Didn’t think I’d be awkwardly avoiding people already.
Last night my friends and I went back to Bar XII for free open bar on Wednesdays. After getting harassed on the way in to buy a charity wristband (A-not sure I believe that you represent an actual charity B-don’t heckle me, that is the quickest way to make me hate you), we snagged a spot at the bar just in time. Unfortunately, one of the guys that we talked to last week was there also. You might be thinking to yourselves “But last week you were glad that those guys saved you from the even worse guys!” Last week we were. Apparently some things went on behind the scenes, and my friend was not happy to see this dude again. He couldn’t take a hint, and kept hovering around us like his proximity would make us change our minds. False.
Then some Ben Stiller look-alike approached us and struck up a conversation with my friend, who swore she’d met him before in Philly. This guy turned out to be a douchebag, and even our full bag of tricks couldn’t get him to leave (fake names, phony phonecalls, “I thought you were going to that other bar?”, even pretending to be lesbians). He pulled out the “I can make my pecs move”, and that was game over. We finally just stopped talking to him, and he got really offended and said “If you guys just want to hang out by yourselves, fine, whatever”. Yes, that’s what we’ve been trying to do the past half hour.
About that time, the other boys texted us “You girls can come join us at our booth when you’re ready to be friendly again”. No thanks.
It sounds like my night sucked, but it actually didn’t. One of the best parts about that bar is the bartenders. We talked to them most of the night, which doesn’t hurt in the free drink department. And in the dramatic storyline that I pretend is my life, it looks like us and those 3 boys are about to get in a turf war over this bar. Let the battle begin.