My efforts to meet men seem to be not as successful as one would have hoped. It could be the bars, the people I go with, the atmosphere, or it could be me. Let’s just pretend for a second, and be in complete denial, that it is not me. That it’s the bars, that it’s them, that maybe I’m sitting too close to my friends and seeming attached, that you can’t make a strong connection next to a pool table. I think that sounds plausible. The fact is, even if I do seem reserved, even if I am talking intensely with my friends, even if I’m not as plowed as the girl sitting next to me spread eagle with a dress on and no underwear, these factors should not affect someone’s cunning prowess of yours truly. I have decided I must decipher these bars with more thought than I have even debated giving them. I need to get to the root of the problem. I need to blame it on the bars, and just go out thinking, it’s not me, it’s definitely you.
I’ll start with Fast Eddies. I do go there regularly. Probably at least once a week, to do research, not just on what type of guy I want, but to witness people’s attempts at getting laid, even if it’s not sadly with me. But the fact remains; do I even want that from any of the people that frequent that joint? I would have to say most likely, not. I realize this is counter-productive for my general cause, but it is a very convenient bar for me to go to. This could be misconstrued as I do not want to find anyone, and that I am not exactly putting myself out there. But my case is this; at least once every few weeks there is one hot guy there. And every time no one is ever hitting on him. Why? He is the untouchable. He reigns so supreme that he becomes almost a figment of my imagination, an image I must have conjured up because I have had one too many beers. He is the enigma, and he’s frightening. Women see him and assume two things, he has a significant other already, or that every bitch is about to pull hair to get to him. Thus, he goes home unsatisfied as well, and we all kick ourselves, and tell our friends, “Oh he’ll be back, next time I’ll go up to him.” But thinking about it now, he’ll never be back. Why would he go back to a place where everyone is looking at him with shocked awe?
Eddies also has a common clientele. The same people, sitting in the same places, talking about the same things, and nothing changes for anyone, thus why people go. It’s my cushion bar. I can look like shit, smell bad, and drink cheap beer, and not have anyone bat an eye. This, of course, is a huge pro for me, but clearly, not great in the scheme of the blog. The blog wants me to be different; it wants me to spread my wings, let loose, and go home with someone that might be unclean. The blog dares me to change, and I stay in my stagnant old pool hall. Eddies must have hot, normal, men lurking in some dark corner. It is flooded with men, because it is suppose to be a cheap, sports, billiard bar, but they are all busy doing other things, whether it be playing pool, playing the fake video bowling game, playing poker in the front room, singing karaoke, or eating pizza, they are all not zoning in on getting tail.
PJ Skidoos is a tiny bit more upscale, and has a variety of different people. Old, young, college, not college, salary earners, and hourly earners, basically there is something for everyone. There is not much more to do then gaze at people, and try to find your prey. You can either talk with friends or hit the dance floor, both of which have greater possibilities. The less activities you can do at a bar, the greater chance for a social connection, basically because you are bored and have no other choice. For women and men, this bar seems to be an easier setup than others for it’s lack of novelties, and it’s smaller bar area.
For the men out there, I know everyone likes going to Hooters but it is mostly pointless for meeting women. I do not mind going to Hooters with people, but the fact remains that very few women do go to Hooters to hang out. And I would say 9 times out of 10, the waitress is not really interested in you. She is working you, she is making her money, and she will give you that fake number that has the recording saying, “This is a fake number because you are a loser and ugly, and she didn’t like you, so fuck off.” Yes, there really is a number that does that. I wish I had it. Hooters is a place to gawk, not to attract and build relationships. If you have found love at Hooters, cheers to you, but don’t tell your friends because you are the exception, and it will never happen for them. You have already become that 1 in 100 people.
Hard Times is a conundrum to me all in itself. Sure, there are a lot of men there. And it is big, and a lot of Mason students do frequent it, and it does have good chili. And there lies the problem. Chili. Who wants to go home with someone who just ate a bowl of chili with cheese, peppers, beans, ground beef, and to top it off, onions? If you have had six beers, a bowl of chili, and a guy wants to take you home? Just go home. What is going to happen in his bathroom after the coitus is just simply not worth it. He will remember you, and not in a good way. I just can’t believe anyone has made a true love connection at Hard Times, but if you have, you know that it’s real. That must be real love to hear someone farting all night, and most likely, all morning, and still wanting to call them again.
Although, I enjoy these bars, and I do go to them regularly, the search for a new, fun, low-key, Fairfax bar is in order. Bars should be like speed dating, and instead they are filled with other attractions such as playing pool and sampling five different types of chili. I’m not saying don’t go to these bars to find your mate, but do be mindful that your odds just skyrocketed. Like I said, it’s got to be the bars, it’s got to be.
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