Friday, July 04, 2008

That's a new one...

So my group of friends and I like to frequent an establishment late on weekends. It having been July 3rd and all of us being off of work on the 4th, we decided to take a rare Thursday night foray. This establishment is in Lakeview, my former neighborhood. We like to do our part, you know?

Anyway, tonight, my cousin Alicia and I were sitting further down the counter on our own. We were talking for a while, and since there was karaoke going on, our musical friends were actually participating and were far from us. We'd been the only two near each other for quite some time, and we were discussing a great many things, including our summer employment (as we're both teachers, I'm her boss at camp this summer, haha...), our families, our friends, and the idiots attempting to scream into the microphone in the stupid karaoke (that was not our least...not at that point....). Whatever she was talking about had her pretty animated. In her story, she was irritated, and she was kind of reenacting that. I felt someone elbow me on the spine. Thinking it was one of our husbands, or another friend, I turned a little. Instead, it was some guy. He said, "Tell her she's pretty." I thought maybe he was trying to hit on her through me. I kind of rolled my eyes, didn't answer, and turned back to Alicia. She continued her story and now looked very irritated, because some guy was randomly interrupting our conversation. He leaned over, tapped me again, and said, "You need to make her feel good about herself. Tell her she's pretty."

Again, I ignored him and returned to our conversation. How odd. Why would I need to make her feel goo --- OH MY GOD. HE THOUGHT WE WERE LESBIANS! I guess he just saw what looked like a lovers' quarrel, and he was trying to give me advice on how to smooth things over.

I'm pretty sure that's one of the greatest things that's ever happened to me.

But here's the thing...why do men in establishments such as these feel that they can touch girls all they want? I don't appreciate being elbowed in the spine, first of all. I don't appreciate the old crusty guy (where did he come from, anyway?) who rubbed Alicia's arms to get her attention in order to get her to let him up to the counter. I didn't appreciate the guy who rubbed my back. In fact, I almost slugged a creepy lascivious guy one night for repeatedly touching my back. I told him I was not pleased, I told him I was married, I told him to leave me alone, and when I asked him to quit touching me, he cursed at me, then kept it up. The bartender tried to get him to stop, the random guy on the other side of him tried. I moved my chair. I finally screamed at him and threatened to cause bodily harm. A male bartender came over and got him to leave. I don't understand why if I'm in a place like this men feel that I, and other females around them, are like part of the decor. That we want to be touched.

And people wonder why I am not a fan of going out...

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