Despite what mens magazines like Stuff and Maxim may say, being a single guy these days is not all sunshine and hookers. Bachelors in their mid- to late-twenties will tell you that theyre watching a large portion of their buddies have their penises legally and willingly removed in a CHURCH no less!
According to womenand guys that watch 16 Candlesmarriage is a ceremony that quantifies the sum total of emotion and love each partner has for the other. But according to DIVORCED women, the very same ceremony is a great way to double your net worth without picking up a second job. If you believe the statistics, most of these marriages will end in a period of time shorter than Clay Aikens career. Though this may be true, it is no consolation to the bachelor who is left sans-wingman on Friday nights.
Many evenings, after calling all the usual associates and finding out its date night, the single twenty-something is forced to set out alone in a search for entertainment. And by set out alone and entertainment, I mean pay and porn not already on his filled-to-capacity 200GB hard drive. On the nights when he can no longer stand to stay in and decides to venture out on his own to a local pub or tavern, our man is faced with a situation that cannot be solved as simply as transferring myer, ahhh, I mean, hisfavorite adult cinema to DVD.
When a guy rolls solo to a bar, there are all sorts of questions that his presence stirs up in the minds of female observerswho never go out alone. Their inquisitive nature leads them to postulate all sorts of scenarios for who he is and why hes alone. This is where our mans wardrobe can play a key role in dissuading Girl A from believing Girl Bs theory that hes an alcoholic necrophiliac who is looking to drug and kidnap Girl A and keep her chained to his bunk-bed in the basement of his mothers house.
If hes clean-shaven and dressed nicely, but not overly so (read: no striped shirt), it is not a stretch for Girl B to theorize that he may be waiting for some friends or is a just single guy who just felt like having an adult beverage or two and is confident enough to do so without calling his boys. The latter of which would certainly help a brother out if he wasnt staring at both girls like a lecherous uncle, trying to picture them pillow-fighting naked.
You Have Become: THAT Guy
After an hour or two, our boy may casually change his seat to be closer to the aforementioned dames, feigning interest in, and choking back, apathetic commentary on the NCAA Division III womens basketball game theyre watching. This is where one fatal mistake can sentence the single guy to yet another night of masturbating to the 3 a.m. "Girls Gone Wild" infomercial.
A single twenty-something guywho is not just out to play a game of Grab-Asswill move close to the girls, but leave an open seat between himself and Girl B (the one who doesnt suspect he has a bottle of GHB in his pocket). He wants to appear interested, but is hedging his bets in case it turns out shes dating one of the seventeen guys with striped shirts and Growing-up-Gotti haircuts that just walked in.
To the girls, however, this move is not aggressive enough to warrant more than an occasional glance in his direction (to make sure hes not spiking their drinks). Sure, they say they want a nice guy, but that just means someone who doesnt see their face as a bulls-eye during sex. Inevitably, Team Hair-Gel will spread out, canvassing the bar and staking claim to every single girl under 150 pounds, their tanning cream and Cool Water carving a path similar to Shermans March to the Sea.
Team Hair Gel All-Stars
Whereas our man sees that single seat between himself and the girls as a polite buffer, the first baseman on the Jersey Chinstraps sees that seat as a sure sign that A) bitches be mad single, yo and B) dude next to them aint with them, dawg and yo, hes probably mad gay, yo, if he aint already hit that shit. Before you know it, the douchebag with the spiky hair who pretends he enjoys shots of Hennessey because its gangsta is rape-dancing both girls.
As the night progresses and the male patrons start cementing their sexual prospects, our bachelor faces one of two options. Leave with the forty-something divorcee who is on her fifth martini and believes the fountain of youth resides in his pants, or go home and sift through the porn his roommate left before moving in with his fianc.
It sure is a sad state of affairs for the single population these days. And while blacking out alone with your pants down is certainly MY idea of a great Saturday night, I know its not for everyone. Most guys say theyd rather just take a different girl to Pumptown every night. But when they stop looking good in their shirt-less MySpace pictures and their parents finally kick them out of the guest house, you can bet theyll be looking to settle down. Hopefully, by that point, all of their friends ex-wives will still have their looks and half of the money.
a Posted: 10/6/2006by: President of the Universe You got my vote asshole. Victor Posted: 4/1/2006by: Chief You have my vote for prez of the universe. Good shit. lol Posted: 4/1/2006by: hell yea victor french is the fricken man. I Must tell you. Posted: 4/1/2006by: Victor French I swear to God I just got finished taking a shit that smells like the Grim Reaper went into my toilet and had babies. I left my shitty fuckin' Oakland A's cap on the window sill last night. You know, to air it out. Bad move. I woke up to a bedroom full of dead birds, and a pillowcase so greasy, you could lubricate a fuckin' diesel engine with it. I'm Victor fuckin' French. I enjoy cold cuts, short walks on the beach, and I would REALLY enjoy your vote for President of the Universe. Vote French in 2012.
And FUCK Merlin Olsen. Spot on Posted: 3/29/2006by: JP Nail on the head here, Musach. Being single is great when you have 4-5 good friends along for the ride. Once you're the last man standing, it becomes a little tougher. Except my married friends are all broke from buying washers and dryers and paint and furniture, etc., while I shit disposable income. Spot on Posted: 3/29/2006by: JP Nail on the head here, Musach. Being single is great when you have 4-5 good friends along for the ride. Once you're the last man standing, it becomes a little tougher. Except my married friends are all broke from buying washers and dryers and paint and furniture, etc., while I shit disposable income. Ha Posted: 3/29/2006by: Christine I'll keep an eye out. I am always on the 2nd floor. You can smoke up there. I usually sit at the bar, but I occasionally will sit in the lounge with the dinosaur chairs or whatever they are.
But perhaps one day I'll go a sniffing on the roof. If I smell weed, i'll come say hi. no way Posted: 3/29/2006by: s i dig the midtown. the upstairs is very very low-key. there are a lot of jackasses there, but ironically an equal number of completely normal people as well.
think it's the deck. brings out the cool.
well, if you were to see me at midtown, i'd be the one outside with the king-size cosmo, a goose-n-bull back, and a huge phatty phatty boombalatty tucked happily between the index and middle fingers of my right hand.
other than that, i'm stealth. ssshhhh. S Posted: 3/29/2006by: Christine I live at the Continental on 18th street. its my favorite place in the whole city, but that's a girly night place. we don't talk to anyone when we go there. I love the grape crushes. best drink on the menu.
S wouldn't it be funny if I saw you somewhere every weekend? again, with the bars. Posted: 3/29/2006by: s yep. skinner's is anthony's, with the same excellent red carpet from back in the day.
it's a good time. all the angry paper guys, local musicians and whatever. we're the team to beat this year for sandlot.
dark horse is quality. they show the flyers. can't ask for much more than that. get in with the staff, and they'll pack you to-gos at last call.
new deck is a'ight, if you're up for the trek.
as for liberties, our ball team got some post-game beeahs there last summer, but it's kinda more fun to venture into the crazy n.e. bars, when you're wearing spikes and carrying bats.
if you require a bit of froof, the continentals are probably some of the least annoying of the annoying variety. and midtown's got a deck, so you can totally blow a j out there unmolested by security.
amada is fun. loud, but cool when they have spanish guitarists and flamenco dancers. and lemon-rosemary martinis. not a bad touch, at all.
eulogy, as well. belgian bar, irish staff. HELA-beer menu, and kickass food. fries with shiteloads of hot sauce and mayo.
the iladel's got it, but a lot of it is covered up with fat asses, bad jeans and more diesel than any straight man should own.
