Looking for love in bars; Lonely under
the influence?
Many people have colorful
tales of how they met either the loves of their lives, or the reasons
why they currently have to take out court orders of protection. Who hasn’t
heard the mundane stories of couples meeting at the local Laundromat (“I
asked her if she had any extra detergent. Who knew she used “Tide”
as well?); the grocery store, (“…when he wasn’t looking
I checked his cart--beer, nacho chips, and beef jerky was all he had.
I knew he couldn’t be married…); and even at the library (“Our
hands landed on the same book: Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus”).
How cute; how vomit inducing. It makes you wonder if their too sappy stories
weren’t embellished a bit from watching too many romance movies
or television sitcoms. I mean, those scenarios are a bit…quaint.
Ok, maybe I have “How We Met Stories” envy because I never
had such neatly wrapped tales of how I met someone. Oh sure, I’ve
eyeballed a cute guy at a bookstore and we’d share a “moment”
before moving on with our lives. No, I never went back to the same store
at the same time the following day or week to see if he’d be there.
There may be such a thing as Fate, but no one said that it was a matchmaker.
Of all places, church is made out to be quite the mixer. (Oh it’s
a house of worship, too, but don’t let that stop you!) Where else
can you meet the perfect person of your dreams? Whether God (or Buddha,
Jehovah, etc..) is cool with your alternate motives is another story.
Just pass the collection plate, along with a note to that cute guy or
girl on the other end of the pew. On the low end of the meeting place
totem pole are bars.
Mention to a friend that you met someone at a bar, do you notice his or
her reactions? You get looks of pity, embarrassment, and/or downright
anger. “How do you expect to meet anyone there?” Usually,
there’s an empty seat next to another person nursing their drink.
Assuming it’s not taken, I park my ass in it and hope for the best.
“A bar? How desperate are you?” In this day and age where
internet porn, phone chat lines, and let’s not forget horrible reality
TV shows run rampant, at least I’m meeting the person face to face
(for you computer and phone lurkers) without a show producer urging me
to flash my tits to make things more interesting. “Do you know what
kind of people are in bars?” Jeez, the future psychos of the world?
Oh, besides that? People who happen to drink.
There lies the supposed problem. It’s not a nightclub (which has
it’s own people meeting prejudice). It’s not a restaurant
(a bowl of peanuts or hot wings don’t count). It’s a place
where people come in to drown their sorrows, maybe catch a game while
knocking back a few, or maybe it’s a last resort for those without
plans. For me, it’s a little bit of each. Also, it’s where
I people watch. No, my little watering hole isn’t glitzy or glamorous.
No celebrity whatsoever has stepped foot inside this establishment that
I know about. It’s also not full of pretentious people—you
get a few every blue moon but why on earth would you feel the need to
be? It’s a bar! Schlep in, take a load off and have a drink, idiot!
Of course, with drinking comes the highly likely chance of someone getting
drunk. Drunk and looking in your direction. Getting up and staggering
towards you while drooling and babbling nonsense. The maniacal grin is
disturbing; you don’t know if you’ll get a hug or a punch.
Never fear, the guard (is he sleeping?) sitting nearby will handle it.
If not, the bartenders will see what’s up. Need more protection
than that? Rely on your common sense.
Ok, so how have I’ve fared with finding my Prince Charming? Remember
the old saying about having to kiss a lot of toads? Well, I’ve had
my share of “ribbits” as the next woman. I’ve also met
some cool people to hang out with. I’ve been on a few nice dates
that haven’t gone anywhere as well as actually having had a relationship
from a bar meeting. These days, I like popping by and while I don’t
quite have that “Norm!” status from the TV show “Cheers,”
I do enjoy seeing the familiar faces. Is there a “Prince Charming”
on the horizon? Well, there is a charming, if not devilish man who has
piqued my interest. So, let’s just say that my Apple Martini days
aren’t over yet!
So, in conclusion, I say this: Let the naysayers judge all they want to.
I come to realize that half of the people in my life that look down their
noses at my bar hopping activities are sitting at home miserable and lonely.
And you know the old saying “misery loves company,” right?
That has never been truer in this instance. Why go out and have a little
fun while you can stay at home pouting about not finding love? As you
reach into that bag of cookies you can surmise how the world is such a
cold and cruel place. Then, you can call on your similar lonely friends
and commiserate. Now, who is the more pathetic person?