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December 16, 1996

Life, Love & The Bar Scene
Copyright 1995 - Greg Bulmash - All Rights Reserved


My head's been a little fuzzy lately, for reasons I'd rather not detail (though they are not illegal), so I thought I'd bring you a really obscure re-run. So here's something from October 9 of last year (GBHP's second official week in existence) that is still timely. Enjoy!

I'll admit right off, I'm not a bar guy. Never have been, probably never will. I just don't have the self-confidence it requires to get shot down that much and yet keep trying.

As a writer, though, I'm supposed to observe humanity, so I recently went to a bar, staked out a table next to some attractive women, and took a good look at the circus parade of human male freakdom that hit on them.

My favorite person of the night was Mr. Freudian-subtext. He stroked his oversized beer bottle like a penis, shaking it to make white foam come out. Cute. And what latencies were we observing when he then put it in his mouth and drank from it? Hmmm? There was also Mr. I'm-too-sexy-for-my-shirt, so named because he had it open so far. Yes, those mediocre pecs and five chest hairs were extremely impressive.

But overall each guy, as he passed, was pretty much like a car salesman, trying the sales pitch and moving on, braving rejection on a scale I could never face.

At the sleazy end of the spectrum there is the used-car dealer. "Hey there little missy, have I got just the ride for you. It's a 1970 model, but it's got extra low mileage and that's important nowadays. Each mile means another woman who could've sat at that baby's wheel, and you don't know if the air-bag was engaged each time. But I'm offering you a clean, quality ride in air conditioned comfort on a model that was previously owned by a little old lady who only rode it on Sundays."

Then we move up in class a bit to your favorite car salesman... Mr. Let's-make-a-deal. "Okay, you've worn me down. I'm gonna sweeten the pot here. Not only am I gonna give ya two free drinks, but... call me crazy, because I've gotta be insane offering a deal like this... I'll throw in a pancake breakfast at Denny's. Go, shop around, see if anyone's offering better. But you'll be wasting your time. I know. I already put on a wig and cruised the bar to save you the time and trouble of having to do it. I've checked out my competition and I know for a fact that no one's going to give you a better deal... Tell you what. I'll throw in no strings or committments for ninety days."

And of course, at the top end of the spectrum... The Luxury Guy. "This is a tight and toned high-performance model with a hard suspension, yet a rich upholstery that screams 'superior level of comfort.' Take it out for a spin. You'll find that it hugs the curves and roars through the straightaways. I can also proudly offer you our two hour extended service plan. If you'll just follow me out to the parking lot, I'll give you a quick demo."

I left the bar before the night was over, so I don't honestly know how many of these guys succeeded. But, as I walked across the parking lot to my car, I did see The Luxury Guy. Some woman had stepped on his clutch and was trying to kick his gear shift into neutral.

Yeah, I'm just not a bar guy. Never have been, probably never will. And you know what? It doesn't bother me that much.

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