Mr. Creepy McCreepster

Leave me alone! Seriously, can you not find other bars to scope out on my Saturday nights? I know there are plenty of innocent young women just waiting to attempt to give you a fake phone number after three rounds of free beverage and in turn be manipulated into giving you their real one. So how about you go find one of them to text and harass or perhaps, take your so called girlfriend out after work on Saturday nights instead of imposing on my enjoyable evenings out. Really, this is getting ridiculous. How many weekends in a row do I have to try and hide out in the corner of the bar when you stroll in? I know you think you're the shit, but news flash, you're not. In fact, you are pretty much a creep. By definition, reason #312 to have a legitimate fake number on hand and reason #2 to talk to the man buying you drinks before accepting three rounds and realizing they're slightly off balanced.

Thanks so much, 

Yours Never,

Classy.

Back story? Sure.  

Probably about a month ago, a girls' night out went wrong. Trying to replicate a girls' night in previous weeks, a city friend and I went to one of our favorite bars where we were sure one of our favorite bartenders would in fact be present supplying us with free beverage as he had in the aforementioned girls' night. Unfortunately, we sit at the bar for an hour with no sign of our bartender. Finishing our non-free beverages, we were almost ready to call it a night and simply put it in the loss bracket, when in strolls Mr. Creepy McCreepster. Acting as if he owns the place, he says, 'Hello' to all bartenders in attendance and several customers at the bar while simultaneously being supplied with his apparent 'usual'. As if we cared, he then strikes up conversation with the two new beautiful ladies to his left: Myself and my city friend. But hey, we came for the free drinks and he was apparently all too aware of that. 

Three rounds later, he's offered to assist my city friend with a job opportunity and asked for both of our phone numbers. As I tried to give him a fake, this was not his first carnival ride. He insisted that I call his phone so that he could save the right number. Unfortunately enough, city friend failed to take the hint that when I'm burning a hole in your forehead with my eyeballs, it means it's time to go! Indeed, he left with Classy's actual phone number. Tragic.

Flash-forward a week, Classy's co-teacher wants to hit up a bar that she's heard is fantastic. We go, mid-week, no big deal. Walk right into Mr. Creepy McCreepster's place of business. That's right, he's the asst. GM of said bar. Seriously? The good news: It was all free. The bad news: more harassment. Spectacular. Isn't this supposed to be a big city? 

It made for a good story, several off-hand sarcastic or crude comments about the man's insanity or all too desperate disposition, and quite a few laughs between Classy and friends... Until last Saturday night. Like sitting ducks, Classy, Roxie, Mr. Perfect, and other friends were enjoying a Saturday night on the town when guess who strolls in. Indeed. Not real. At first the man acts as if he didn't look me dead in my eyes when he walked in the door, but of course he couldn't leave it at that. He's Mr. Important, he had to let my entire party know that. Strolls over to Roxie and my table, puts his arm around me, introduces himself to my friends, calls me a 'heart breaker' (as if we didn't already know that much...) and offers to buy us a round as he's walking out the door. The waiter pretty much scoffs at his arrogance and we laugh as he invites us to meet up with him at his next destination. Yeah. right. And you guessed it, in the week following, more text messages. Desperate for me to return his need for conversation, he has mocked my relationship, mocked my strength and intellect, and absolutely and entirely misjudged this Classy Stiletto. What. a. freak. 

Last night was looking to be a better night. Psycho-free and drama free. In fact, I almost got out scott free entirely. Alas, almost doesn't count. Mr. Important strolls in once more. Stalker much? Luckily, we were just finishing our round and headed home. Zero opportunity for Dear Creepy to strike up a conversation other than awkward attempts of eye contact. Hilarious. Ridiculous. I've learned my lesson. And done. 

In conclusion, not only have a fake phone number on hand, but perhaps a can of pepper spray... and city friends who know when to say, 'Goodbye!' 

Not. real.

Oh, What a Night!

What a night, indeed. Saturday evening's festivities were outrageous. Island Girl and I went out with several other city friends in order to celebrate a 21st birthday. And this Classy girl let herself become more trashed than the newly legal. Not. Real. But you've been there, don't judge. Let's recap.

The night started off at my favorite bar. Sliding up to the bar semi-early, we quickly made friends with the bartender. While being charged fully for three rounds for myself and one round for two other friends... I was feeling generous... We then slid out to the bar next door to throw some darts. It is after all, what IG and I were known for. We're quite the team. After a few games, it was brought to my attention that sweet Island Girl was quite the charmer and if we were to slip back over to our first location, she had a free beverage waiting on her. When we returned, however, her drink buyer was nowhere to be seen. And so, we yelled at our friendly bartender. He, having seen the conversation prior to, offered a round. I asked for a beer, he made me a Rum Runner... but who are we to turn down free beverages? It pretty much went downhill from there. We were on a roll. After drinking twice as much as I had the first time I had parked myself at his bar and not paying for any of it, I was still fine and functioning... until I stood up... and thus, ended up in the bathroom stall with IG and another favorite city girl. Yeah. Bad. 

It's at this point that I must say, I usually am quite able to leave the bar with at least the slightest bit of dignity and well, class... at least make it home before I lose all control. However, with my recent mission still in full effect, I have not had much to drink at all in recent weeks, I had also not had much to eat in the latter part of the day, and therefore... I didn't so much make it home before I felt the full repercussions of my night o' festivity. I won't be headed back to said favorite bar for quite some time. Although, according to all of my newly made friends who were in and out of the restrooms, they'd "all been there, Honey."

I made it home and apparently made several humorous comments that I have no recollection of and let's just say, I don't have to count many of the calories from the evening. However, other than the tragic ending to the evening, time spent with IG, etc. was absolutely wonderful. We had such a blast. Quite the perfect reunion. Another will have to occur soon. It's a must.