So: if they were in college it might have been considered rape. Which is another reason why the bar is better than college.

Rumors went round the bar a few months ago about two of the regulars having hooked up for sex one night.

They are both in their fifties, and probably figured that their Perfect Other wasn't coming into the bar anytime soon. And they were probably drunk. So: if they were in college it might have been considered rape. Which is another reason why the bar is better than college.

Afterward, the guy told others that the woman's genital hygiene was atrocious. Yes: the rotting fish analogy was made.

I thought this was poor etiquette on the man's part. And his own hygiene is not stellar, at least from a sweaty, disheveled same-clothes-day-after-day manner. From this: I would not bet on him changing his underwear daily. And I certainly don't wish to view those underwear to confirm my suspicion. But I think they would. Confirm my suspicion, that is. So I don't believe that particular stone should have been cast.

When the rotting fish analogy was made the flamboyant young gay man at the bar said he could have told you that.

Asked how he would know, he said all women's vaginas smelled like that.

He does not like the vagina.

Not even for childbirth.

-jj

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

For some reason I also picked up several two-packs of hard-boiled eggs from the refrigerated section.

I am hazy about how it started; alcohol was probably involved. I would walk past a group of heroin kids outside what was, at the time, the Big 5 Sporting Goods store. They typically had a cardboard sign on the sidewalk, asking for money. Sometimes the writing on the cardboard attempted to be clever, or funny, or appeal to emotion, with the occasional decorative squiggly lines or smiley face; sometimes it just simply asked. I was at the Bartell's Drugs on the corner, picking up a few items, of which I cannot remember. For some reason I also picked up several two-packs of hard-boiled eggs from the refrigerated section. Outside the store, as I approached the heroin kids, I took the eggs out of the bag, and then gave the packages to them. They were a bit baffled, but appreciative. Maybe a bit disappointed it wasn't just cash. I wasn't going to give them money which then would inevitably be used for drugs; I figured the eggs weren't worth selling for them, and h
Read more

They often tell the women and the college girls they have coke: they don't need to find someone that has it: they already do. And it is back at their place.

David Foster Wallace had a collection of short stories entitled "Brief Interviews with Hideous Men"; at times, this seems like a perfectly reasonable title for conversations that happen with some people at the bar. Maybe not truly hideous; I could check a thesaurus for a synonym that seems somewhat lighter, but it is just easier to say I could check a thesaurus for a synonym that seems somewhat lighter, and you'll know what I mean. I have mentioned the broken men before, and those that instill distaste.They are usually obvious as losers: poor posture, poor bodies, questionable hygiene, enervated, isolated. The broken men who inspire fear -- sometimes it is just a vibe that says prison, or possible serial killer. The kind of guy most women instinctively know to never get in a car with. But there are also the broken losers who look like winners. They show up in a fashionable suit and tie; they wear an expensive watch, expensive shoes. Maybe mid-twenties; maybe earl
Read more

The guys who were trying to f**k her didn't even buy her a drink: there really are useless people in this world.

I ran off to do some errands -- sometimes there is life that needs to be conducted outside of the bar -- and when I returned the girl with the tattoos and the streaked hair from a bottle who just quit her job was still there. She can hold her alcohol, but she now has had more alcohol than she could reasonably hold. The unseemly part of bar life is now happening: most of the regulars have left, and a few young men are around her, commiserating. That is, they are commiserating with her in the hopes that being the commiserating guy will get her to drunkenly go home with them and fuck. Hyenas. I usually keep a distance to people's dramas: you can't make everyone make a good decision. But I cannot let this happen. I slide between her and one of the guys and disrupt the path of the conversation. I ask her gently if it is time to go home. The guys are now upset with me. Upset, and drunk. They make comments, I make comments back. Eventually one guy infers that we should ta
Read more