Boys and bars

Friday night found me at the local pub with three of my guy friends. When I get together with this group, our topic of conversation usually revolves around dating. We’re all single (for the most part) and I like hearing their insight on dating and relationships.

It usually works something like this. I pose a hypothetical question that parallels my life quite nicely, as they dig into their brains and pull out loads of crap…er…helpful information to share. It usually winds up with me being just as perplexed as I was before our conversation began, but I enjoy deciphering the inner workings of single guy’s minds.

This particular night, we were discussing picking people up at bars. Before we’d gone out, I told the boys that I’d give them each $20 if they could bring a girl home. I knew I wouldn’t have to shell out any money because these guys are actually really decent and don’t sleep around, but I still like to give them a little challenge.

We sat around a table in the back of the bar having drinks that were way too strong and eating burnt nachos. “Boys should go up to girls. That’s the way it’s supposed to work,” I pointed my finger knowingly, pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes into little slits. Apparently somewhere between the third rum and coke and second helping of nachos, I had become a dating know-it-all.

“Why? Why is that the way it is supposed to work?” one of my guy friends, R, asked me.

“Because, that’s just how it’s happened for hundreds of years! Men are the hunters. They’re supposed to seek out their prey. Boys have gotten far too lazy. In the olden days, guys would go up to girls, start a conversation and possibly ask them on a date. Now, guys say that girls should go up to them. Talk to them. Ask them on dates. Just when, I’d like to know, did guys lose their balls?” I stuffed a jalapeno into my mouth and then greatly regretted my decision to do so.

However, I had just made a stink about boys having no balls, so I had to suck it up and take it like a man…although…I am a girl so I’m not really sure why it should have mattered.

“But if I go up to a girl in a bar, chances are I look like a creeper,” he retorted.

I shook my head. “Not at all. You’d look confident and like you know what you want. That’s sexy!”

“So, if I was to go up to you in a bar and say ‘Hello there’ you wouldn’t think I was a weirdo?” R said ‘hello’ in a voice that sounded eerily like Hannibal Lecter and raised his eyebrows as he did so.

“Well, if you said it like that! Don’t be such a creeper!” I exclaimed as I hit him playfully. “Do you see any girls here you like?”

“That one’s pretty,” he responded. “She’s little, and shaking her ass. Actually, I haven’t even seen her face but…that’s good enough for me.”

“OK, so go up to her!”

“It’s not that easy,” he replied as we watched a group of people go up to the girl.

As the night went on I realized that it isn’t that easy to just go up to someone in a bar. People go out with friends, making it pretty awkward for a someone to just start talking to them out of the blue. And, in my experience, the guys that do usually either have terrible social skills or body odor that would put Pepe Le Pew to shame.

I accepted defeat three-quarters of the way into the night, as our people-watching had us witnessing everything from complete brush-offs to random, slobbery make out sessions. Maybe bars aren’t necessarily the way to go when you want to meet someone to have a real relationship with. But, then again, I know several people who have met their significant others, and even spouses, during a night at their favorite watering hole.

All I know is that I’ve got to keep trucking. Going out. Meeting people.

Because maybe, someday, I’ll get some balls.