I did it again. I picked up a dude at a bar. It happened just the other night, and it was completely unexpected, but most welcome. I relay this experience so that you too may learn from my endeavors to be a better human being. Yes, picking up dudes in bars makes you a better human. Everybody knows that.
It was a typical Thursday night. I went to my favorite watering hole in town to grab a beer in order to unwind from a very long and emotional day on the job. There was only one seat at the very end of the bar, so I sat in it. As I sat down, I asked the jolly looking gentleman sitting in the next seat if it was available. Obviously, he responded in the affirmative.
He was there with his friend, who I will refer to as Father Patrick, (FP) but please be aware that this individual was in no way a man of the cloth. For the sake of this story, I will refer to the jolly gentleman as Tad, though this was not his real name. It is my attempt to protect the somewhat innocent. Of course, how protected can he be, as his picture is part of this post? Ah well, you do what you can.
Anyway, as soon as I sat down they started talking to me, which was most welcome. I sized up the situation. They were incredibly animated, intelligent men who had been friends since boyhood. They told me that they get together at least once a year to enjoy crazy shenanigans. These were definitely safe guys. This particular evening's shenanigans consisted of a pub crawl through Bellingham. Unfortunately, they had visited the most lame and far away places to drink beer/cocktails in town. The next place they were hitting? Bob's Burgers. Ugh. I took it upon myself to stage a one-woman intervention.
I told them about a magical place called Elizabeth Station, where the beer is plentiful and the workers are knowledgeable. A place where you can strike up a conversation with almost anyone. A place for community to taste the finest beers from around the world. A place where anything can happen.
They were so impressed by my enthusiasm and insight that they invited me to tag along with them and be their guide, on them. This was when I first had an inkling that I just might get lucky. They were hoping to employ the ages old "get the woman drunk" strategy in order to lubricate me into bed with them later that night. "Well played," I thought to myself after I accepted their offer. I wasn't convinced I would end up knocking boots with either one of them, but I appreciated this antiquated "tip of the hat" to my womanhood they had so astutely laid at my doorstep.
As I travel by bike, I told them I would meet them there. I knew this night was just about to become EPIC, so on my way to E Station, I tried to calm myself with breathing exercises I learned from a visiting monk back in Portland. By the time I reached my destination, I was as cool as a cucumber, which is how I prefer to be when I pick up dudes in bars.
I walk in, and there they are, standing at a community table waiting for me to pick out some sour beers for them. I looked at the menu board and found nothing suitable, so I went to the coolers. Over the next few hours, I selected an assortment of sour beers that I knew to be exceptional. FP said he liked them. Tad seemed not to, but kept drinking anyway. A group of kids from the local University joined us and Tad and FP began buying beers for them as well. It was exactly what I was hoping would happen; a community erupted around the rich dudes buying beer. Eventually, the topic of sex came up, and they inquired as to whether I would be game with either of them. I replied quite emphatically, absolutely not.
The reason I called FP by that name is because he had a priest's ring on his finger. I told him that I couldn't see myself getting jiggy with a man who is....well...religious in that way. And Tad was just a little too nice, if you know what I mean. That is when FP told me that he had recently dressed up as a priest for a gag and his ring was part of the costume. He showed me pictures. It was a riot. He even went through airport security dressed that way. Unfortunately for him, they found a flask in his hollowed-out bible and took it from him.
I don't know about you, but this is the type of thing that gets me GOING. A guy who will go through the trouble of dressing up as a priest for a laugh? Just to see how people will react? Yeah. Sign me up for that. That is what I call HOT. Most likely it is because I do the same types of things for the same reasons. So, from that point in the evening, it was pretty much on. We exchanged numbers, began sending each other dirty texts, and I promised to meet him at my house later that night.
You might be wondering how any of this makes me a better person, or how it could possibly make you a better person.
As always, it comes down to simple math: Meeting strangers and discovering the world through their eyes simultaneously expands and shrinks the world. You are able to discover and appreciate things that you didn't even know existed. You are able to consider view points you might never have. You are able to view people you might have seen as very different from you, as quite similar.
What's more, you come to know yourself better, you might even come to realize that you were wrong about a certain "type" of person. It reminds you that your fears of others are based on virtually nothing. It is good to remember that from time to time.
Lastly, doing this kind of thing reminds you that anything is possible. I would never have guessed at the beginning of the night that the evening would go the way it did, and what an astounding surprise it was! The world can surprise you in very wonderful ways if you give it the opportunity. All you have to do is give it that. You will be amazed at what falls into your lap.
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