A recent conversation brought up some of the reasons I don’t go to nightclubs. I guess the best reason is the fact that at 44 I look like a child molester on a playground, but there is also the fact that I’ve always hated explaining why I don’t drink. I detest the taste of alcohol. I’ve never acquired the taste. It’s the same with caviar and coffee. I can’t stand those either. Therefore, it’s not because I’m a “religious freak, or recovering alcoholic.”
The fact is that I’ve seen more alcoholics and self-described Bible thumpers hanging out at bars than not. My favorite was a Christian/Tax Rights lobbyist I know. I ran into him at the Iowa State House. He was embarrassed when I mentioned that it was nice seeing him at my uncle’s bar the weekend before. When he began lecturing me on how “I don’t drink. I just go to see people. So if you would please not mention it to anyone…” I replied, “Well…if you’re embarrassed about doing something, then perhaps you shouldn’t do it.” A Senator who overheard the conversation nearly spit her coffee on the floor at my response. Being blunt is not a virtue in politics.
Hypocrisy notwithstanding, some of the other reasons I don’t go are the fact that guys always seem to want to pick a fight with me. I’m 5’7” and 175 lbs. Exactly what badge of honor do you get when you’re 6’6” and 280 when you pummel me into the ground? If there’s money involved though, let me know. I’m more than happy to take a fall if the pay’s good.
A friend once told me that “it’s no fun going to a bar if you’re sober. You just can’t get into it.” I told him that if beer goggles, hindered judgement, and slurred speech are a requirement for a good time, then I’d just as soon, not go. So…for the last 20 years I haven’t gone.
There have been some instances though which have required me to be present at the local hunt-fest for local companionship. Come on…who goes to a bar to just meet with friends? If you really think that is what you’re doing, then you shouldn’t be at the meat market. There are other places to go. But let’s not quibble.
There was a rare occasion a few years ago where my ex got me to go to a bar. She wanted to go dancing with friends after work, and asked me if I would go along. I was standing at the bar watching her dance (quite the site actually) when a woman started talking to me as I leaned against the bar. It surprised me when this kid, all of 22, started talking to me. In the course of the conversation she started hitting on me pretty hard. You have to hit on me pretty hard for me to notice. I’m dense that way (Note to women…ALL men are dense that way…we don’t do subtle). After a few minutes she asked me what kind of car I drove. I told her a Saturn (ironic because now I drive one). It took about three seconds for her to say “well…gotta go, and walked away. At the end of the evening she happened to be in front of the bar when the valet pulled up with Deb’s (not my) Jaguar XJ12 ($99,000 car). She looked so dejected and actually said “I thought you drove a Saturn.” I replied…”sorry…I swim at the deep end of the pool. Deb and I laughed hysterically all the way to her house since we were sure she didn’t get the reference. Was I disappointed? No. You don’t have to explain anything to a 45 year old women. I’ve done the younger thing. They need a road map.
Another time I was talking to a very attractive woman who during the conversation asked me what I did for a living. I told her, and her next response was “So, how much money do you make?” I replied, “Oh…it doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t get to see any of it anyway.” She tried to pedal back from her statement, but it didn’t work. I’ve seen more subtlety from car salesman.
My favorite situation was even more classic. This woman comes up to me, all of 6’ tall and says, “I love bald men, but you’re too short.” I replied “What? Is your name Disney? You have a tattoo of a line on your chest with the note “Must be this tall to board this attraction?” She called me an asshole and walked away. Hey…this woman just tells me I’m short, and I’m the asshole? The bartender overheard the conversation and about died laughing. I got free coke and chicken wings the rest of the night.
I never really liked going to nightclubs when I was younger, and the times I’m dragged to them as an adult are painful to me. Crowds give me anxiety attacks, and I find large groups of people tend to do things that defy logic. If I have to go out, I much prefer a more intimate setting, like say a pool hall. You can have a conversation, and I usually pick up a couple of bucks. It’s a win-win situation.