Duck and Cover

I wonder what it is that makes drunken men think that if a woman sits down next to him at a bar, she MUST want to have sex with him.  I mean, seriously.  There wasn’t another seat at the bar, buddy.  And they always wait at least 5 minutes to suddenly interrupt conversation to introduce themselves.  And it’s always really abrupt.  And awkward.  

After the introduction goes badly, does the drunk lonely guy in the corner of the bar give up?  Does it matter that said woman is with friends?  Does it matter that he can barely speak English, or any other language for that matter?  Of course not.   I don’t think it’s liquid courage, either.  It’s inexplicable. 

Again, he waits…lurking and watching the unaware, uninterested female.  Again, he suddenly interjects himself into her life, this time to grab her hand (don’t you EVER grab my hand without knowing me, unless you are shaking it in introduction. Danger Will Robinson, danger indeed).  An aside, I often wear 24 cent rings from the local bodega – they are plastic and painted and full of fabulousness.  At least myself  and my friends think so.  PLASTIC.  PAINTED.  Don’t tell me you can’t tell the difference between plastic and rare metals, drunk man.  I won’t believe you for a second. “What’s that ring for?”  “Decoration” “I know better than that, what does it mean?” “It means I like buying my jewelry at the convenience store, it’s just a plastic ring” “Oh come on I know better than that.”  Did I mention that he grabbed my hand.  My left hand??  I was sitting to his left so he had to reach over while I was oblivious to his snakelike charge.   All of a sudden my hand is being fondled, unwelcome advances on my ring finger.

This is not an isolated incident, oh no, not by a long shot.   There was that time I had to continually remove  a female friend of mine’s hand from a drunk man’s clutches.  Granted she was flirting a little bit, but she wasn’t flirting enough to warrant a hand attack.   Hand attacks should never happen.  Hand holding is not a given any more than a guy expecting me to take him home with me after we spoke for a half an hour. What is that?  That’s beyond casual sex, that’s just ridiculous.

I love holding hands with guys.  I really do.   But not without an invitation.  I love talking to guys, I really do.  Again, not without an invitation.  I love taking guys home with me, if I know them marginally well.  Do I even have to say it?  Sure I do, NOT WITHOUT AN INVITATION.  Perhaps I shouldn’t ever sit down next to a guy alone in the corner of the bar ever again.  Ever. Again. At all.  And people wonder why I’m single…