Yeah, so, I never get hit on in bars.
When I was single, guys never tried to pick me up in bars. I usually spent my time talking to some other guy’s married wingman while a single guy picked up on one of my friends. True story.
So, imagine my confusion when some random guy in a bar hit on me, not once, but twice this week. I guess 40 looks good on me?
The first occurrence was on my birthday last week. David, Katie, Nathan and I had an amazing dinner at Nora’s in Washington, DC. It’s the country’s first organic restaurant. Oh la la. After dinner, we grabbed a drink at a nearby bar that is in the back of a bookstore. Katie browsed the bookstore, David and Nathan talked about sports; and I sat at the bar and sipped my wine. Eventually, I looked over for Katie and mistakenly made eye contact with the guy sitting next to me.
He immediately took this as an invitation to chat me up. Ivan is from Denmark, but he’s in DC for business, blah blah blah. “What are you doing in DC?” he asked.
“It’s my 40th birthday, and I’m visiting friends,” I told him.
He wished me happy birthday and gave me the ol’ “you don’t look 40” speech. “How long are you staying in DC?” he asked.
“We are here tomorrow and then we are leaving for Baltimore on Monday,” I told him.
Ivan: “Sonia, who is ‘we’?”
Me [I point to David]: “Me and my husband.”
Ivan: “This is very disappointing, Sonia.”
Me: “I’m sorry you are disappointed, Ivan.”
Ivan: “I’m really disappointed. I really wanted to have sex with you, Sonia.”
Me: “I see. Well, there’s some very cute girls over there. Maybe you should try your luck with them.”
Ivan: “I will.” [He leaves.]
The minute Ivan left Katie walked up and takes his seat. “Who was that?” she asked.
Me: “Some dude that is really disappointed that he doesn’t get to have sex with me.”
One second later, Ivan stepped back over: “Sonia, who is your lady friend?”
Katie: “I’m Katie, and I’m married, too”
Me: “Disappointing, right, Ivan?”
Katie: “Ivan, you should go to San Francisco.”
Ivan: “But I like girls.”
Me: “She’s right, Ivan. You need to go to San Francisco. You need to go to a neighborhood called the Mission. There are so many single ladies there. The Mission is packed with organic, free range single ladies.”
Ivan: “Thanks for the advice.”
Katie [pointing to two girls who just walked in and sat down]: “There’s some girls over there. You should talk to them.”
Ivan: “Did you really think I didn’t see them?” And he left to try his “I really want to have sex with you” line on some other unsuspecting ladies.
On Saturday night, good buddy Kirk and I celebrated our October birthdays together at Buckshot. Why Buckshot? Because the dead animals all over the walls reminds me of my parents’ house. Sure, the bar gets incredibly douchey by 10:30 or 11, but we started the party early at 6 p.m. This gave us plenty of time to drink cheap beer and play some skee-ball before the creepshows rolled in.
I was on the dance floor, acting a fool with good buddies Tiff and the DH when some guy comes up next to me and puts his arm around my waist. I quickly moved away, and he leaned in to say something to me, but I cut him off. I pointed to my ring. “I”m married and not interested. Sorry.”
“That’s OK,” he said, pointing at his wedding ring. “Sometimes it’s OK,” and he tried to touch me again. I moved away: “It’s not OK with me, but good luck with that whole thing.”
What a creep.
On another note, this is my favorite photo of the night. The DH, myself and Tiff are acting like we are having too much fun. Why is it my favorite? Because that girl on the far right … we don’t know her. Photo crasher!