On Thursday, I had the pleasure of going to my favorite local watering hole to partake in some musical entertainment and participate in ballroom dancing…just kidding. Dude, I went to the bar. It was ladies night, come on. Every time I go there, I feel like the boys just get more and more ridiculous. Plus, it’s hit or miss on a Thursday. Let’s be real, girls get in for free, which means there will be a lot of women dressed in very little clothing. However, guys know this and will pay money to show up and troll while we drink our $2.50 long islands. The bar I go to is huge. We’re talking multiple rooms, several bands, beer garden, etc. Mostly, you can find the dumb guys hanging out and smoking while one or two of their friends toss some beanbags into a wooden box with a hole in it. This Thursday, though, a huge section of the place was closed off for remodeling, which meant that the main band only played one set (the main reason why we came) and then the biggest room morphed into a dance club so the DJ could close out the night.
There are a lot of idiots on the dance floor, friends.
So now I present to you “Dumb Things Boys Do at the Bar” part one in a series. Trust me, every time I go, I will add to this list.
Dumb Thing #1 – Staring at Women in a Creepy Fashion
It’s one thing to be a creeper and you know it (insert some LMFAO lyric here). Sadly, in today’s society, I am used to being grabbed from behind by some dude I’ve never met before. But this time, there was a creeper that came up behind me, stayed a respectable distance away, and stared at my chest every time I turned around, along with my friend’s boobs while my back was turned. Didn’t try to dance with us. Didn’t try to talk to either one of us. He just stood close enough to almost breathe down my neck and had a massive case of wide eyes. I didn’t even know I was there until my friend yelled in my ear, “CHECK OUT THAT CREEPER BEHIND YOU!” Turned around. Didn’t make eye contact. Just stared.
Seriously? Please tell me what good that does anyone. If you want to dance, let’s dance. If you want to talk, say something. Anything. “How’s the weather?” would have even been okay if your brain couldn’t function enough to come up with a shitty pick up line. Let’s be real, if we are drunk enough, those are funny enough. Eventually, he moved away when we left the area to go back to the bar, but the stare, dear god, the stare. I guess I’m not one for the not-as-stalkerish silent type.
Dumb Thing #2 – Random Dance-Offs
Let me preface this dumb thing by saying that if a guy is with a group of his male friends and wants to see who can do the best robot between all of them, go for it. That shit can be hysterical. However, when one random dude grabs me or one of my friends to show us his “moves,” (which can only really be described as a chicken running in circles with its head cut off while hopping on one leg) and then another random dude he doesn’t even know decides, “hey, it’s time for a showdown!” and then attempts to pop lock after throwing even more girls into the mix, it’s time to take a breather. Watching guys have a contest to see who can shake their butt the fastest does not make girls want to sleep with them. On the contrary, it makes us want to watch in horror for fifteen seconds, scream obscenities at the DJ for playing a horrid Gotye remix and then take some shots to get the image out of our minds. The worst/best part happens when so many people join in that there’s a goddamned circle like you see at weddings, but only two drunken idiots are the ones in the center, seeing who can perform the world’s worst moonwalk. The guys will even forget the girls they started out to impress and go all out to best one another.
Sorry, I didn’t know my trip to the dance floor would include a walk-on role in Step Up 17: Barmageddon. Someone’s gonna get kicked in the face with your Zumba moves that you try to make look tougher by throwing in some MMA-style punches every once in awhile. Are you fighting? Are you dancing? Did I accidentally wander into a rap version of West Side Story? Usher would be rolling his eyes at you dudes. And you don’t even notice when we leave to go to the bathroom. By the time all the girls get back, all we hear is a chorus of “I love you man!” “No, bro, I love YOU!” as some Rihanna song deafens us for life. Please stop this. I don’t want to get a robot elbow to the jaw while listening to some auto-tuned mess.
Next night out, I’m sticking to the bar. The boys there at least know how to buy girls shots. Guess what, guys? You’re doing it right.