This is a familiar situation. Paper wristband sponsored by some poor tasting light beer. A doorman with a cigarette telling you to have a nice time "Hun" and a courtyard surrounded by three different, but equally smothered and horny bars filled -- with legs in glittery shorts and boots, and clean shaven baby faces buying bottles of Budlight. To the left, the Irish-themed bar. Instead of your seasoned bartender flooding shot glasses full of whiskey, properly pouring a Guinness Stout, or shouting at some googly kid for ordering an Irish Car Bomb, we have three young female kittens. No more than 21 wearing what they think would be considered sexy. Hot-pink low cut tank top. The other in a see-through white tank top, showing off her hot-pink bra. Deep pinks are in now. The color of lust, attraction, and street walkers. There was an older woman in an old worn t-shirt: the goose mother. Have I just stepped into a brothel? Made me wonder if she had been under pressure to hire other sultry barmaids for an attempt to attract costumers clients. Do 20-something's need any other excuse to drink besides just wanting to drink? I guess we need something interesting to look at while we get ignored for 7 minutes waiting to order a poorly made rum and coke. Thanks "Stephanie", this is definitely worth 7 dollars.
The new wave of bartenders seem to all agree that the longer the we wait, the better the tip. More time to look at their perfectly round tits and flat ass. Yes, "Stephanie", so worth it. Nothing but a lost kitten waiting on the decent man to look up from her chest, scratch her head and ask her "why are you here?" A man to wrap her cleavage up in a dirty bar towel and take her away for a rehabilitating love affair for her to rediscover self-worth and love. I'll be on the lookout "Steph". As soon as I spot a concerned old soul, I'll point him to you. It's the fake flashy smile that will give you away. His name will be "Steve" and he'll be longing for you, just as much as you long for him.
We recognize this longing for love at a young age. Perhaps we present it through 2 naked Barbie's tangled atop of a hard-plastic bed. Perhaps it's spurned on by the loss of a first baby blanket or plush toy, or more than likely, a distant or disturbed parent who didn't offer enough hugs. For me, it was the Barbie's. I can't say how I knew about sexual intercourse at 8 years-old, but to watch 2 perfectly proportioned human representations was something that made a kid feel safe. Yes, this is what any person strives for throughout their entire life -- minus the hard plastic bed and lack of genitals. Every seed of the heart waiting to sprout, to grow and transcend into the pure metaphysical level of love. But as a young child outgrows his clothes and toys onto adulthood, this idealism quickly becomes muddled through the smoke and red fluorescent lighting at a popular bar. And this desire for love becomes twisted between 4 legs and a couple shots of vodka, a broken heart, a recent death, boredom, or all of the above. It becomes to be too much effort, too much time wasted, and too much lost out on that thin line of a real connection. So instead, the poor kitten continues to spiral downward, feeling inadequate when the man ignores her bright glowing chest. When really it could be a respect thing. Or most likely, he just prefers big sloppy tits and doesn't feel the need to waste his visual energy on b-cups.
The next bar's name is unimportant. It's another bar. Boys in buttons downs and brown loafers. Poorly dressed girls competing for the best boot and shorts combo. Miami flavor boots and junior sized jean shorts. The top half is irrelevant. Some sort of crop top or transparent blouse. Squeezing in and out of dude bros. Each catching your eye contact. Deciding in the .3 second gaze whether or not they would fuck you. Lingering an extra 2 seconds deciding whether or not you are down to fuck them ("hey do you want me? I want you. Oh, you don't? I don't want to either." Keep walking ).At least it will save one of us from a shameful rejection that we both don't want to endure. Especially after prepping ourselves physically for such a night to display our prideful bodies. Flaunt our feathers -- partaking in it all for a seemingly good time.
