The only thing worse than trying to find a guy at a bar is dealing with other women doing the same thing.
It was a typical Saturday night in New York City – my friend and I had decided to trek down to Russia (AKA the Lower East Side) and steer clear of the Danger Zone (AKA the blocks where we’re likely to see old, burnt out flames). Although we had been insulted by our cab driver when he asked if we were from Long Island, the night seemed promising as we rolled up to a country bar in our yellow Medallion cab. After confronting a man trying to cut the line and get inside – he allegedly thought the people in a single file, twenty-person line leading from the door were smokers – she and I walked into what would soon seem like a reality death match.
I’ll admit she and I go to this bar for two reasons: the country music and the favorable male to female ratio. It’s a sausage fest, and any woman who has ever been there knows it. Men congregate in groups of five, and we all know how impossible it is to overlook good looking men when they come in multiples. Sigh. Anyways, on this particular night, she and I didn’t go to the bar with the intention of meeting anyone. Despite some specimens that made initiating conversation tempting, we refrained but not by choice – by force.
The smell of beer and “Lose Your Love” playing in the background must have made other women forget that they were adults and not college sophomores because they acted all of nineteen. Since when are death stares to total strangers appropriate? And when did purposely elbowing people as you walk become acceptable? My friend and I were being attacked – attacked by other women who were desperate for some loving. It was an unfair battle – she was in stilettos and I just wanted the DJ to play Pat Green.
As I downed one seltzer and lime after another, and she her cranberry vodkas with a splash of pineapple, women ambushed us, “casually” pushing, clearly staring at, and blatantly talking to their friends about us. Women scrutinized us from across the room. It was unbelievable! I’m sorry, woman in the black halter top showing way too much boob, if you felt like the guy wearing the orange hat and blue button down was the man of your dreams, why didn’t you get off your chair, cross the room, and say something eloquent – like “hi?” Seeing as how you decided to wait for him to notice you in the hundred-twenty seven person crowd, I’m allowed to ask him for a napkin without you shooting laser beams at my head.
Ugh, women.
At one point, I feared three women were going to intentionally spill drinks on my fabulous camel-colored, Coach boots to mark their territory. They were capable. Seeing as how I avoid situations where women act as catty as humanly possible, I decided it was time to leave the bar and keep my outfit in check – none of the guys were worth taking one to the boot for anyways.
The night got me thinking though, why are women so awful to each other? Are women naturally that evil? Um…I should say no, but yes, some of them are. For the most part, dating induced competition is behind the cloud in judgment that turns daddy’s girls into Satan’s girls. Apparently, one Matthew McConaughey look-a-like is enough to make a woman come out swinging. I know we’re all fighting over a limited population of men, but really? Put down your boxing gloves, buy your drink, and have a good night. I repeat, put down the gloves. If you’re meant to meet your future husband after he gets off the mechanical bull, there’s nothing I, nor any woman, can do to stand in your way of eternal happiness with Cowboy Roy.
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