Okay…for all my healthy serenity-in-the-nude-solitude of the past day or so, I gotta say, it has run its course. The excitement of flashing Jasper my shameless nudity no longer holds much entertainment value for me at the moment… This is a source of deep embarrassment for me; I’m a firm believer that only intellectually and/or creatively challenged people “get bored”.
Thus, although I’m still home alone, I’ve donned a few articles of clothing (…ummm…yes…I can hear the collective GASP shivering through the universe at that shocking little tidbit of unorthodox deviance), poured a lovely, scrumptious and delightfully hefty glass of Seven Deadly Zins and I ponder the thoughts which have been running rampant through my mind today…
- The gentleman in his 60’s (or early 70’s maybe???) whom I safely sat next to upon my first little visit to the neighborhood watering hole. ( I didn’t want to sit all alone and I really didn’t want to get hit on either…so ) Immediately after our polite introduction to one another, begins discussing with me how there are, in fact, people “our age” who come to this bar, explains in graphic and unwanted detail the vast popularity of Jared the hot, young bartender, his “cougar following”, and all the many, many women who come here merely to see and flirt with said ”hot bartender”, Jared.
Ummm….W.T.F?? Firstly, I didn’t even know of Jared’s existence prior to this little jaunt. And FYI pal, I resent being classified by you, a man clearly over 60, as in “our age group”…I mean, yeah, I realize my 20’s are getting fuzzy in the rear-view here, but the man’s most likely somewhere in the vicinity of TWICE my freakin age! Thus, you do not get to say to me such things as, “people “our age”! No.
I let this pass… but then when he jumped clear into the cougar talk… I gotta tell you, I could hardly hear the man talking anymore. Seriously… WHISKEY. TANGO. FOXTROT pal?!??? Have we come so far in this cougar-bit that a woman over the age of 30 can’t go into a bar by her house that happens to have a hot 20-something bartender, without being instantly and unjustly classified into the COUGAR category?! And not only that, but implied by a pre-octogenarian at that??!! Are you kiddin’ me?
WHISKEY. TANGO. FOXTROT! I found this not only insulting at a high level, but terribly unjust and unwarranted as well. Who the fuck do you think you ARE old man? You’d better pump those squeaky old brakes of yours pal and simmer down. Yeah, with your smooth verbal skills with the ladies, it’s not exactly clear to me why on earth you’re single?!? Ahhh..the mystery…
Meanwhile, I’ve got late 20-ish, early 30-ish drunken surfer dude who has camped out in the empty chair next to me, sliding his hand UP MY THIGH and leaning over to whisper, spitting with his hot breath in my ear, “It’s so obvious how much you want me… I’m like a tiger ya know; I can sense these attraction things from a mile away.” OH MY GAWD….is this a bad movie? Hidden camera prank? WHAT is going on here?!
So while I was already busy pulling my insulted chin up off the floor from shock at Old Man’s Audacity-n-Confusion on my right, I had to take my soggy bar napkin and wipe the drunken-surfer-dude spittle off my left cheek.
WHISKEY. TANGO. FOXTROT. Now I’m insulted AND disgusted.
To add insult to injury, it seemed Jared (yeah, HOT bartender is a very accurate description) was watching things and maybe feeling a little sorry for my plight… So he asks me if I will do a shot with him. Umm….with the utmost gratitude and pleasure, YES!, I will partake in an inappropriate amount of alcohol in a too short a period of time for my body to process, just to nurse my punctured ego-wounds and hopefully simultaneously cleanse myself of my OMG-so-unsanitary-spittle-on-my-face-disgust! …Ummm…noooo Mr. Old Man, I’m not quite ready to chuck myself across the bar at Jared in true Cougar-like fashion, but hell YEAH, I want a shot! Red headed slut? Lindsey Lohan? Tequila?? I don’t care, I’ve money for a cab…just bring it!!! And hurry!
…As Jared (the life and ego saving bartender/hero), the other 20-something bartender, and I are all raising our glasses to toast, I happened to glance briefly to my right…just in time to see Old Man Octogenarian giving me a knowing little wink, with a smug cat-that-swallowed-the-canary grin… OMFG…
WHISKEY. TANGO. FOXTROT??!!