Sunday, December 9, 2018

The Worst Kind of Dude to Run Into at a Bar


I am alone at the bar, enjoying myself and watching my husband play guitar for the crowd, when a guy stumbles forward and requests a Pearl Jam song. I merrily compliment the guy's choice.

But within moments, it's all too clear.

I am now tangled in a conversation with The Worst Kind Of Dude in the World.

Let me count the ways.

1. He is explaining to me how good Pearl Jam is.
(Ok, so this dude doesn't know he's talking to the foremost Pearl Jam scholar in America, so I decide to let the mansplaining slide for a minute.)

2. Hold on. He then tells me that when he grows a beard, he looks JUST like Eddie Vedder.
(Game over. I'm sorry, scrawny dude with weak cheekbones and no chin, but this is impossible.)

are you for real with this?
3. He keeps screaming Pearl Jam lyrics and then forcing me to high five him.
(I don't want to keep doing this.) 


4. He keeps lamenting that even though he’s been to TWO THOUSAND concerts (as demonstrated by holding two fingers in front of my face repeatedly), he hasn't been able to see Pearl Jam yet.
(It's almost as though they haven't been touring the Northeast extensively for nearly 30 years. I refrain from mentioning that I've seen them 53 times because I'm afraid it will prompt him to tell me something that he thinks is more impressive than that.)

5. Now he's sitting at the bar, just bellowing "PEEEEEARRL JAAAAAAAAM" over the songs my husband is playing.

6. He just came back to my table and made me fist bump him.


7. He tells me "I'm feeling generous. Very generous," with a cocky smile before tipping my husband a single dollar. 

8. He wants his buddy to join us so now he's just sitting at my table and yelling "MY BRUTHA," over and over to the bar.

9. He's trying to describe the song "Wonderwall," but doesn't believe me when I tell him he's thinking of Oasis.


10. And finally, when my husband tells him he won't play any more Pearl Jam songs for him, the dude fishes his dollar bill back out of the pile of tips and mopes away.

congratulations!


Short of date rapists and serial killers, every woman knows that this is, truly, The Worst Kind of Man to Run Into at a Bar. (And even though he's probably not one of them, I'd still carry my drink to the bathroom with me before I ever left it alone near him.) He will continue to splash around the shallow end of the dating pool until he decides to settle down with a lady who deserves far better.

Be careful out there, ladies.