(or "A Trip to the Bar with a Paranoid Recluse")
You're at home all cozy on your couch, just wearing shorts, eating your favorite comfort food, watching TV, surfing the net, reading a book, listening to your favorite music, or maybe just doing nothing at all... but then you decide to drag yourself up on your feet, apply some petroleum-based gel to your face so you can shave hair off with a steel blade, strip naked and douse yourself with water before applying a bar of chemical cleanser all over your body, wriggle and squeeze your way into restrictive clothing, suffocate your genitalia in a pair of underwear, bury your feet into two layers of stuffy damp foot containers, and then gratuitously waste exorbitant amounts of hard-earned money so you can be pressed into a tiny sweaty space with obnoxious music as you sip poisonous ethanol concoctions, suck on cancer sticks, and lose the entire following day to vomiting, sickness and remorse. Why?
Sex, of course. We know that people will pay any price, forsake any comfort, bear any annoyance just to have even a zero-point-two-percent shot at finding a partner to have sex with. We have to do it; our genes tell us to, our bodies are programmed to. We are walking digestive tracts and reproductive organs. Everything else is secondary. Our sensory organs are there to find food and sex, our feet are there to take us to food and sex, our hands are there to possess food and sex, our brains are there to figure out and coordinate how we will find, reach and possess food and sex.
Food is easy, because it involves one passive inanimate mass of nutritious organic energy, and one complex active conscious animate organism (people) to consume it. Sure, sometimes getting food is difficult--especially if you're very poor or just live in a bad place for it, like Africa or the Arctic--but it's mostly widely available and easily acquired. Even if you aren't fortunate enough to have access to an efficient system of food production and distribution that involves the acquisition of slaughtered beings in nice neat packages in return for money, food is still a straightforward deal. Even if you have to hunt for it, the roles are set in stone: food will try and run, you will try and catch it, then when you catch it you will gleefully tear its guts out and eat it without any moral compunction as your prey dies a horrible death that you could give two shits about because, well, you're hungry.
This is not the case with sex, because sex involves two complex active animate conscious organisms that are both full of equally complex feelings, emotions, insecurities and neuroses - not to mention strange bodily ailments ranging from bad breath to possibly anything from a limp to a lazy eye. These two problematic organisms then have to negotiate past all of these complications through clumsy and ridiculous rituals just on the off chance that it will all somehow lead to a shot at copulation. Sometimes these rituals take weeks, involving the provision of numerous expensive gifts, spending obscene amounts of money on elaborate eating ceremonies, wasting further time and money on awkward and insincere conversations over phone, food or long aimless walks, asking and answering an endless series of humiliating questions that are thinly veiled attempts to establish some kind of awkward compatibility or connection founded on trivial things like whether one prefers cats or dogs or whether one likes mustard or ketchup. And at the end of it all there is still no guarantee that you will have sex.
Sure, we might also go out to mingle or hone our social skills or have a laugh or do a little networking or just to blow off steam, but we will rarely sacrifice our comfort for any of those reasons unless there is also the chance--even the infinitesimal chance--of something sexual going on in some way. After all, you don't go to mingle/laugh/talk/network/relax just anywhere, you go to a place where there is music, alcohol and people of the opposite sex. This all goes to show just how strong our drive to have sex is, because nothing else could possibly stir us to such illogical and Herculean deeds as having to leave soft, warm, homey comfortland for horrible, competitive, bitchy outsideworld. Most of us would barely stir if somebody's life was in danger. In fact, most of us don't even stir when our own lives are in danger. Every day we subject ourselves to the deadly dangers of overeating, cigarettes, alcohol, drugs and lack of exercise without doing a thing about it. But when sex is involved, we are capable of spending $49.99 on a bottle of stinky water with some pretentious French name to splash across our face and $34.95 on an overrated skin cream that we think will reduce wrinkles. And then we go out and spend the rest of our money and health standing around being bored most of the time just because there's the slightest possibility of maybe perhaps getting it on with someone other than ourselves for a change.
And so before you know it, there you are, up off your couch and drowsily getting ready to go to a bar or attend a social gathering for some strange reason conscious You doesn't comprehend, but unconscious genetic molecular You could write a 5000-page treatise on in double helix format.
Conscious You is perplexed. After all, there are a lot of things to consider and negotiate before you can even get anywhere near the point where you might meet a possible sexual partner. The effort starts before you leave the house, at the point where you've taken the decision to exit your wombnest. Who'll be there? Friends, frenemies, ex-girlfriends? You start picturing in your mind a roomful of imaginary people you would both ideally want to be there and also those you would dread to see there. Depending on which set of imaginary people have the numerical advantage in the imaginary room, you will decide to continue and carry out your plan to leave safeland or cease this silly and illogical plan once and for all and return to chez-You to continue playing Solitaire while eating Cheetos and watching South Park reruns.
Let's say the imaginary ideal friends and couple of hotties you had in your mind's eye were populous enough to spur you on, and you make it outside and find yourself at the bar. You are now confronted by the reality: not all the friends, hotties and frenemies you imagined would be there are there, but instead there's just a whole lot of people who didn't figure in your mind at all before you got there, and who are just generally oblivious to you. You imagined that everyone would be conscious of your presence, for better or for worse. But the reality is that the people there could generally give a pig's ass whether you're there or not. Strange, none of them ignored you in your head. In fact, you were the center of attention, if you remember correctly.
Still, you do find that there are some people there that you know. But do you know them well enough to go and say hi first without reintroducing yourself? You know you met that person once, maybe twice, but will they remember you? Is it conceited of you not to reintroduce yourself and assume they already know you? What if they don't remember you at all and it's just all awkward and they're wondering who the hell you are? Also, when and how do you go up and say hi? Should you wait for them to come to you, or should you do it? Should you do it as soon as you see them? But what if they're in a conversation? Do you interrupt the conversation to say hi? Do you also have to say hi to the other people in that group, even though you don't know them? Or do you ignore them and act like they're not there? Or do you just scrap that whole idea and wait for some other more convenient time to say hi, like when you pass in the hallway or at the bar or outside the toilet? But then will they think you snubbed them by not going up to them and saying hi right away before? If you put off the immediate greeting then will you be spending the rest of the night trying to say hi the moment you make first eye contact? What if they always avoid the eye contact thinking you snubbed them? If you greet them later, should you explain that you saw them before and noticed they were there and wanted to say hi but didn't because you didn't want to interrupt them? If you want to play it cool and safe and not go up and say hi to everyone, does that seem snobby and stuck up? Then again, if you go up right away as soon as you see someone and say hi, is that pushy and desperate? Also, do you actually say hi or just nod your head when you make eye contact? What if they're in a conversation and you make eye contact, then do you go up and interrupt to say hi anyway? If you miss the chance to say hello at the first instance, do you then ignore and avoid that person all night - if not for the rest of your life because it'll always be awkward after that since neither of you will be sure if the other person likes you or not? Which group of people do you go up to mingle with first? Once there, when do you break off and mingle with others? How soon should you get to everyone else? Is your fly undone? Are your clothes weird? Is your hair ok? Can they notice your zit? Maybe you should go straight to the toilet and lock yourself in a cubicle until you figure it all out.
But then you hit the perfect idea that will keep you looking normal: just go straight to the bar and buy a drink. That wins you time, and also gets you a nervous plaything to grab and suck on like a big baby's pacifier. Now you can walk around the room without feeling totally useless, naked and insecure, sucking away at your comforting beer teet as you plan your next move.
Let's say you do somehow manage to interact with someone else, how does the whole question-and-answer ritual get played out? What do you ask and how do you answer? How do you say the things you'd like people to know you do without coming off as seeming conceited and vain? Or how do you avoid talking about what you do altogether? If you do have to say what it is you're doing, how do you describe it? How do you find the right balance between self-deprecation and self-promotion? How often should you come up with witty quips? Do you do small talk, or do you try and strike a risky off-beat quirky conversation to establish how cool and different you are and how you don't talk about the usual mundane stuff? If you do do that, can you follow through with it, or will it start seeming unnatural and make you look like a complete jackass within 3 minutes?
Oh shit, eye contact! Across the room, eye contact with pretty girl... and lingering too, lingering for ages, at least 1.7 seconds. That's like an eye contact eon. Play it cool, but not too cool. It's all a fine balance. Stay cool and removed too long and she loses interest... I should go talk to her. Then all I have to do is become instantaneously fun, sharp and witty on some random topic of choice and make her laugh a lot. Jesus, that sounds so difficult. I'll walk slowly toward that general direction... or fast? Show some moxie, be assertive? Yes, here I go, look at her and go up and... oh shit, she's started talking to some guy. Quick, change course, but don't lose pace, that will show indecision and insecurity, not to mention dejection... got to keep walking, and there I go past her... damn it, there's no one here to talk to, the bar is behind me... yes, the bathrooms are just over there in the corner, act like you're going to the bathroom and go to the bathroom. Wait, don't ACT like you need to go to the bathroom, that's just weird. Just walk to the bathroom. Should I leave the drink on a table before I go in? Weird having your drink in a bathroom, little shit and piss particles floating around the air' dropping into your drink... yes, leave the glass on a table and go in. I bet nobody's gone to the toilet with such a determined stride. I'm a very confident incontinent.
Ok, hang out in the stall for a bit and then head back out. Check self in mirror. Check hair... don't touch the hair don't touch the hair don't touch the... damn it I touched the hair. Rearrange it a bit, no, more... there's no end to this. I know every little twirl and bump in my hair, and I'm trying to sculpt the perfect scalp. Am I scalpting? STOP, focus, leave... did I just talk to myself? Did I say that out loud? Why did that guy just look at me? Maybe he knows me? Should I say hi, am I being rude by ignoring him? Of course not, who says hi in the toilet? Strange and gross. "Hi, I couldn't help but notice that you had your dick in your hand! Let me introduce myself!"
Ok, outside again and... sure enough my drink's gone. It takes six hours to get their attention at the fucking bar just to get an eight-dollar drink, but when it comes to taking your drink they're suddenly efficient. They probably follow your every move and as soon as they see you away from your drink, they jump in and take it. The waiters and the bartenders are probably all in it together, resentful at having to serve people having fun, so they're secretly trying to sabotage everything... oh wait, there's my drink. Wrong table. Or maybe they just play mind games with you and shift your drink around when you're not looking? Assholes!
There she is, walking toward the bar, she's alone, now's your chance... go go go... damn, here's what's-her-face... she just said hi... she's so pretentious... typical "hey, so what are you up to?" bleh, so bleh bleh bleh bleh bleh... shit, I'm cornered. Insert stupid pointless chit chat here.
"I'm ok, doing nothing, not much I mean..."
She's still looking at me... say something... I have to continue... fuck
"...you know, this and that..."
This is excruciating. She's still staring at me. Just take that answer and move on for fuck's sake!
"...Just wrote something for somewhere, so... you know, the usual... aaanyway"
There, that should do.
"What did you write? For where?"
ARGHHHHH! How do people not get it when you don't want to talk about something? We should walk around with green and red lights on our collars; when green, you may proceed to draw out conversation, when red, just exchange pleasantries and fuck off.
"Oh, just this article on, you know, politics, the ruling party, blah blah blah, so what about you? What have..."
"Really? What do you say in the article?"
Nothing. I say NOTHING.
"Well, you know, it's a critique of the recent decision to... gerrymander the... will you wait a second? I'll be right back..."
RUN RUN RUN... There she is, go up and say hi NOW, don't think, don't think, you're thinking... fuck it, you're almost there... is this strange? This seems unnatural and forced, maybe you should... DAMN IT, YOU'RE THINKING! ABORT! just... abort... Plan B, go to bar! Yes! Slam the beer down fast... ugh, that was unnecessary, whatever... and hit the bar. Thank god, huge line at the bar, all packed, this will take at least 10 minutes, plenty of time to pick a perfect moment to approach her... Where is she? Can't see her. Make subtle and seemingly indifferent visual sweep of room and... nope, she's nowhere...
Oh shit, she's RIGHT behind me! What now? I don't really want a drink. But you can't just go up and talk to someone without a drink in your hand. With drink, saying hi, you look casual. Without drink, saying hi, you look like a potential serial killer. Wait, do I even have money? Damn it. Credit card, put it on the credit card. Also, I'm right in front of her, she is studying every single tiny little thing I'm doing. She's sees everything. I feel naked. Damn, I should have shaved the back of my neck. I had a pimple on my neck... Is that gone? Was it? Feel back of neck... still a bump... is it white and gross? Ok, fuck it. She's probably judging my character by how I stand in line and make it to the bar... I have to be assertive, I have to be pushy and aggressive like everyone else... I don't want to be, I'm happy to wait my turn and even let others pass... but she'll think I'm a walk-over. Am I a walk-over? Maybe I am? Who am I kidding, she wouldn't like a walk-over. Is that right, "walk-over"? Maybe it's pushover? Ok, you pushover, at least stand cool. Put both hands casually into back pocket of jeans and place one leg around the other and tilt head to the side... No, I feel too relaxed, also I could lose my balance with all this pushing and shoving for elbow room at the bar. Keep legs apart... yes, better balance, and... ok, keep arms in back pocket... no, move to the front pockets... Do I have my hands down my pants too much? Does that give the subliminal message that I'm fond of masturbation? I am fond of masturbation, who isn't? But too much? Ok, put hands on hips... no no, now I look indignant. Damn, I just want to be natural, but nothing feels natural anymore, it's all so contrived. Damn it, this is too much pressure... There's a gap! a gap! the chick on the side just got to arguing with her friend, and on the other side that drunk guy just keeled over and had to be caught by those waiting beside him who are now giving him a talking to... Perfect, I'm storming the breach! Or am I breaching the storm? GO GO!
How's that for assertiveness! Mister Man takes the bar, how you like me now? FUCK YEAH! Now, gotta get bartender's attention very quickly, otherwise I'll still seem like a pushover. After all, it looks like I just lucked out on the gap... In fact I probably seem like an opportunistic little prick... got to redeem myself with quick attention-getting of said bartender...
"ONE BEER! HEY, ONE B..." ok, he's serving guy next to me, now that guy seems more important and manly than me. Must tilt in and wave hand in bartender's face...
"ONE BEER, HEY BUDDY, ONE BEER!"
"Buddweiser?"
"NO, I SAID BUDDY, NOT BUDDWEISER, I WANT A..."
Damn it, all he heard was "Buddweiser"...
"NO NO, I WANT A DIFFERENT..."
Aaaand he opened and served the Buddweiser... Just take it, fuck it. Oh great, it's warm too. God, she probably thinks I'm a complete walk-over now... pushover... take out money... fuck, no money, hand him the card...
Come on, come on, please work... please let card work... MIRACLE!
Yes, got my drink, paid for it... well, overpaid for it, fucking eight dollars for a beer... Turn around now and introduce the man of her dreams to her who dreams of a man like me in her dreams... Hey where did she go?
Well, maybe it's better, fuck it... that means I'm still not looking bad... not looking good either, but at least not looking like a pushwalkover...
Ok, there she is with a girlfriend of hers, now it's time to saunter on over. She looked my way again! That's it, this is meant to be, fuck yeah, here I go, so close now...
Oh shit, my friends! Damn it, I don't want her to hear our inside lingo, it's embarrassing. She'll wonder why we punch our fists in the air and lisp and crack our voices when we say "HEY DICKFACE, KOOKACHOO!" Even we don't know what that means anymore or where it came from... I think it was what's-his-name... that time in... whatever...
Embarrassing embarrassing embarrassing... God, I can't even bear to look at her now... Oh, great, we're getting all physical and getting into the homo jokes. Brilliant. Shoot me. Can't be uncool though, have to answer and hold my own... so tedious.... this ritual always takes at least five minutes... Good, made semi-witty retorts where demanded, called him a "fag" back, drank a swill of beer, punched him on the arm in return for his grabbing my ass, that should maintain my place in the guy group hierarchy... Can I try and get laid now please? Can't mention her though, too close, they'll just stare at her and shout "Nice tits, shame you're an ass man!" Why? Wait, does she have a big ass? I can't tell. I don't want to look. I don't want to spoil it. Don't look at her ass.
Her ass is fine! It's great! Glad I looked.
Good, my friends are off outside to smoke. Perfect chance, she's right there. Do it!
"Hi... uuuhh"
Can't think.... nothing... blank... beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep... shut down
"Hi"
She talked to me, good sign. Now all I have to do is magically create an entertaining and witty conversation out of thin air.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
"I have a drink."
"Can I buy you..."
...everything in the world? Stop asking her what you should buy her! Change tack, you have about 5 seconds before she walks off.
"My name is..."
Stupidass! Hi, I'm Stupidass!
"Hi, I'm..." Didn't get her name, in one ear out the other. I blew it. If I don't ask her name again within the next two seconds I can never ask her name again.
Find something in common and say something funny about it. Just don't ask her if she comes here a lot...
"Do you come... here..."
"What?"
"... a lot?"
"Do I what a lot?"
God kill me now.
"Nothing nothing, nevermind, I just said Do you come here a lot? but it's not..."
"No"
Run away, run away, run away, run away, run away, run away
I have it! I'll do that thing where you ask which of two random choices she prefers concerning a range of hypothetical non sequitur questions!
"So... ketchup or mustard?"
Oh no, this is horrible, can I take that back?
"What?"
"Uh... nevermi... well, which would you pick, metchup or kustard?
"Custard, I don't know what metchup is"
"No no, I mean, ketchup or mustard"
Great she just sighed and looked at other people while I was talking, that's a GREAT sign.
"I don't know."
"But you have to pick one!"
"No I don't."
Good point.
"Yeah, I guess you're right, you don't really do you."
"Nope."
All hope is lost, stop trying. It's over.
"Has this been the worst come-on you've ever had or what?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
Wow, did she just smile?
"Usually what goes on in your head is pretty good compared to what comes out, but what was going on in my head was even worse than what you were hearing, could you imagine that?"
She giggled!
"It must've been very bad."
"In my defense, I actually warned myself against making almost each and every inane utterance before they came out..."
"You should've listened to yourself then, huh?"
Giggles! There are giggles and smiles! And even eye contact!
"Nah, I always think I'm giving myself the wrong advice. I only realize in retrospect that I was actually giving myself the right advice... If I had a time machine, I'd be the perfect picker-upper."
"Well I hope they invent one of those soon, for your sake."
Oh my God, could this be witty repartee-ing? Is this back-and-forth banter? Am I engaged in actual human interaction? It's almost... natural.
"What would you do if you had a time machine?"
I ask.
Wow, I'm not even thinking about what I'm saying anymore, it's all just flowing out by itself, a smooth and natural progression... two minutes ago, that same sentence would've been horrible... but now she smiled and showed her teeth, and... yes, I think she just touched her hair!
"Welllll, maybe I'd go back to the beginning of this conversation and accept that drink you offered me?"
"It's never too late for some things, even without a time machine... I'll go get you that drink."
What did that cheesy shit just mean?! No idea, but who cares? There was a logic to it in the rhythm of the conversation and the words didn't even really matter anymore. The real language is now, finally, physical... it's in the eyes, the hands, the body, the expressions, the mouth... and it just simply, magically meshes in the easy, meaningless back and forth of the banter. It's nice when that happens.
"Here's your beer... drink it before it gets cold."
"Great! Where were we?"
"I was in my time machine, getting you that drink."
"O yeah, so we went back in time to the beginning where you told me your name, right"
"Right."
"Well then I'm pleased to meet you."
The rest of the night happened, mercifully, outside my head.
