Some of you may recall the post from December that self-destructed after 48 hours. If you missed it, it involved, in part, an encounter with a girl at a bar . . . Tonight, I have plans to see her again. And I could not be less motivated . . .
Some of you know me. You know that I am old and lazy. Or, if as some suggest, 40 is the new 30, then I at least feel old. I don't go out much and, when I do, I don't put much effort into it. Give me a bar, a game on TV, and some libations -- preferably some Miller Lites . . . perhaps a Patron or a single malt. That's all I really want. I can no longer drink "good" beer. When I go to a bar with 50 beers on tap, all it does is make me feel like a dick for ordering a lite.... I don't need the bartender looking at me with disdain or some sense of false superiority. I can either drink a beer with 3.5 grams of carbs and maintain each of my limbs; or I can go craft beer and maybe be blind by the time I'm 50. I'll make the sacrifice....
I also don't need to socialize with the hipster crowd. I want to punch hipsters in the face. A year or so ago, I spent a month in Denver for trial. A great city tainted by legions of jackasses riding funny bikes with bad hats and smoking pipes. A city like DC is big and diverse. You sort of have to seek out hipsters. I've been able to live my life here for well over a decade without crossing paths with this crowd. And it hasn't been difficult. I don't look for the trendiest bar or the newest joint in the "up and coming" neighborhood. In fact, aside from going to Nationals games, I rarely ever hang out in D.C. anymore. It's too much of a pain in the ass . . . I prefer staying "local." There are a handful of restaurants with bars that I can walk to from my condo. And, if I want to get crazy, I can jump the metro for a 5 minute ride to Bethesda which has more bars and restaurants than I could drink at in a year.
So, back to the girl . . . I realize that I cannot invite her out for drinks at the TGI Friday's in Rockville, Maryland... not yet at least . . . . I need to put some level of effort into it. At the same time, I have no idea where the "cool" spots are in the city. So, I basically put it in her hands to name the place. She comes back with three suggestions:
- option 1 is some strip of bars in North East D.C. which cannot be reached by metro. I research the area, and its currently experiencing "gentrification" . . . And, according to the interweb, who's gentrifying it? Why, hipsters of course. I ask some follow up questions, and girl responds that the bars in this neighborhood probably don't even serve miller lites. It's mainly craft beers. It's also, apparently, difficult to get home from late at night because there are not a lot of cabs. Great suggestion . . .
- options 2 and 3 are random, isolated bars, in areas of the city where you may very well get hit over the head just walking down the street. But, she's "heard good things . . ." Neither area is accessible by public transportation (unless you consider a bus an option . . . but P3 has not ridden a bus since moving to D.C., and has no plans to ever ride a bus while living in D.C.).
I mean, is this a test? If it is, I will flunk it and not feel bad whatsoever. My attitude going into this evening could hardly be more negative. Ultimately, I agreed to option 1 (I assume even hipsters drink whiskey or tequila). But, don't be fooled. While I may be willing to put an increased (and, in my opinion, unwarranted) level of effort into an isolated date, this sure as fuck is not going to be a regular occurrence. If this is what is expected (or desired) we might as well call it quits before it goes any further.
In fact, I'm close to intentionally tanking the evening. I've done it before. Many years ago I went out on a date with some woman I "met" on one of those interweb dating sites. She seemed nice. And her picture did not burn my eyes. So we made plans to meet up for drinks. When she showed up, I hardly recognized her. She had at least 50 pounds on her profile picture. In fact, it was only when she turned her head at a certain angle that she bore any resemblance whatsoever to the girl on the internet. I felt burned. And there was no way this was leading to anything at all. So, I spent the entire evening discussing my favorite episodes of Saved by the Bell, debating whether Zack or Slater was "cooler," and explaining why, if I were gay, and if Beverly Hills 90210 were real, I'd date Brandon over Dylan... (oddly, despite my efforts, she couldn't get enough and spent two weeks emailing me afterwards until she got the message....).
In short, this sort of sucks. I'd rather be going home after work to watch the latest episode of Gold Rush on Discovery . . . or perhaps airstream porn on my new 55-inch Samsung with Apple TV . . .
I don't necessarily want to be single my whole life. But I will if it comes down to it. I'd prefer to skip the dating stage and fast forward to the point in the relationship where a complete lack of effort is acceptable. Also, I'd like to be able to do whatever I want every weekend (or, at least 3 out of 4 weekends a month). I don't want a relationship to interfere with poker, or monkey mashing VP, or going to 50 or 60 baseball games a year, or driving up to Jersey for the Jets games every weekend. But, beyond that, I think I'm pretty easy . . .