How to be a total douch-waffle on Karaoke Night
Last night I'd lost all faith in men. It's our usual Tuesday night and spot a new guy with a hat sitting at the bar sitting with one of the regulars. (The regular is a great guy) I'm introduced to Hatguy and he seems nice. He is friendly enough and has a nice sense of humor. He's a great singer with Joe Cocker movements. If you've ever seen Joe Cocker sing, it's crazy fun to watch. Kind of like if someone were trying to air dry their hands because the bathroom was all out of paper towels and the face is twisted up like you sucked a lemon and it hurts. Later I come to find out he's the ex boyfriend of the new owner whom we all love madly. Exboyfriendhatguy is singing and my lovely friend, L, says, "He's really good."
I tell her, "He's M's ex boyfriend."
What L thinks I've said is, "He has a boyfriend."
Where she makes comments of, "AAAAAAWWWWWWwww. That sucks." I'm wondering why this is the reaction.
She then tells me, "All the good ones are taken," and laughs.
"L," I say, "He's the EX boyfriend of M."
"OOOOOOHHH! I thought you said he HAD a boyfriend."
We share a laugh about how loud it is and that she thought I said he was gay. I go over to talk to the regular that is sitting next to Hatguy. The regular is the boyfriend of our bartender. He sings amazing metal and all the songs I personally love. Hatguy pipes into our conversation and I tell him how L thought I said he was here with his boyfriend and he makes a funny comment about how he would be much more put together if he was gay. (Better dressed, cleaner apartment, better job. I didn't know that only homosexuals have these things, but whatever) It's kinda funny, I guess. I think after he thought for a moment, his brain went into caveman mode (grunt, man like woman. hit her over head and drag her, grunt) and he starts telling me how he's FAR from gay, he's 46 and bangs only 30-somethings because (and sticks out a finger for each point)
1. He treats them very well
2. Because he's so much older, they'll never want to marry him
and...
3. Because he can f*ck really good. (It took everything in me not to say, "Well. It's well. You f*ck them Well." but I refrained.) What I did do was look at my wrist that clearly had no watch and said, "Whooo, looky there, gotta go," and made my exit back to my friends. Not even 5 minutes later Hatguy comes over to me and L clearly with an agenda and pulls out his flip phone (God, how I wish I could italicize here) and starts scrolling through pictures saying to L, "I'm so far from gay. I'm Italian. " L is looking at me and I say to her, "What's he gonna do? Show us a picture?"
YEP! He did just that. On his flip phone was a picture of his ginormous you-know-what next to a Glade airfreshener can for reference. I had to look twice and I put my hand over my mouth. L, clearly as surprised as I, said something to the effect of, "Impressive...I guess, and highly inappropriate." Asshatguy now walks away with a proud -of- himself look and L and I are left with the image of his d!ck emblazoned in our brains forever. 5 minutes of my life I will never get back. Then he goes over to some birthday party that is sitting towards the back and shows them the picture. Seriously? Seriously. I turn to my right and have to literally tell L to close her mouth because we're both still in shock that some guy thinks, A) we have any desire to see his privates (note to all men: I think I speak for most women when I say Men, don't show us your junk unless we ask to see it. Women are not visual like you guys. Unless that c*ck is attached to someone we love or like a lot, we don't want to see it.)
and B) only straight guys can have big shlongs. (Oh, how wrong he is)
Our men who are always with us on Tuesdays are in shock when we tell them what just occurred.
"Oh that sucks," replies R, one of the most secure heterosexual men I know. "He came over and was really nice and now I have to not like him. I am getting so tired of defending my race." R sighs and I laugh because I believe him.
My other man, E, (who happens to like boys and girls) is ready to beat him the crap out of him because we were disrespected and show him he's wrong about size. I think E should've just beat him with his own member. (Not really, but I thought the visual would be awesome.) I walk over to Mr. Regular, a large, bald biker that you would not want to meet in an alley but is nice as can be, and I tell him what happened and that he needs to keep away from us now. Mr. R starts to apologize profusely for him.
I tell him in my 5'2" body and fuzzy uggs, "The only reason I didn't hit him in the head with a f*cking chair is because he's M's ex. (the Joliet girl comes out in me at the most inopportune times) Asshat then yells out to me as I'm walking away, "HEY!"
I don't even turn around. I put up an unladylike hand gesture and went back to my people.
I don't understand men. I realize the same goes for us, too, but I don't get it. He apologizes to the men of our group, but not L and me. Know your audience, is the advice I have, I guess. I certainly don't give the vibe of, "Show me whatcha got, Sailor." It's pretty much the opposite of that. Also, I am physically unavailable to anybody because I position myself that way. R and E are my protectors. I'm still in my dating detox. The only funny thing that came out of this were many jokes about, "Do YOU have any pictures on your phone you'd like to share?" The cook who prepares my food exactly how I want and need was sitting at the bar towards the end of the night heard about what happened. When I asked him if he had any pictures, he replied with a serious face, "I don't have any pictures on Tuesday. It's actually Take-It-Out-Tuesday, so I just do that." My handsome KJ says to me, "Robyn, can we just find you someone normal. Is that too much to ask?" No, it's not too much to ask, but can you find someone like that for me? Because I'm too tired to bother now. *sigh* It is what it is, I guess. Men are not an enigma. They are quite simple, really. But the stupidity sometimes astounds me. I hope this post finds you all well. I hope at some point you find time today to take pictures of your genitals with random objects next to them and share them openly with strangers...and remember my story. Thank you all for taking the time to read yet another one of my ridiculous tales. I wish I could say it's made up but no such luck.
My songs for today are:
My Ding-a-ling by Chuck Berry
Sledgehammer by Peter Gabriel (you're going to go look up the lyrics now)
and for those of you looking for a swamp song...
Stupid Boy by Keith Urban
I brag:
I have a kick-ass circle of friends
I have a karaoke bar where, like Cheers, everybody knows my name
I've lost 15 pounds since the start of this Dante's Inferno diet
I desire:
to lose the rest of my weight effortlessly
a frickin' cheesecake
a house for me and the kids
to have enough money to buy the kids new beds. I hate they're in twin beds
to go to Austin next month for my class
I am grateful:
for finding my way out of a dead-end relationship
for EFT and Tapping
MAC lipstick
my comfy bed
reducing the stress in my life
my cool job
