To say this was an accident would be an understatement. Seriously, I thought my first date would be of the online variety but it just goes to show that San Francisco loves to toss curveballs..or oddballs...or any balls of that matter.
It all started with me supposedly meeting one of my favorite humans for a drink at our bar, the Pilsner Inn in the Castro. I was about halfway there when I got a text saying my friend couldn't make it. Ok, that's cool but how in the hell was I getting home? I was stuck on Market Street nowhere close to an N-Judah until like a smelly, change-bumming savior coming to the rescue, the 71-haight bus came creeping up the hill packed to overflowing. Once the old lady with 80 shopping bags gets off (seriously, you dick!), I was able to cram my way in the back door (ooohhhhh yeah-ah - sorry, couldn't resist). I was sandwiched between an older Hispanic guy blatantly leering down my shirt and and a younger Chinese girl using her Gucci purse like a shield from the homeless guy trying to talk to her...ah, the 71 bus.
I was about to zone out when I notice a pack of suburban hippies across from me (not to be confused with trustafarians). I accidentally lock eyes with the one that doesn't look like he raided grandpa's 60's era closet - longer brown hair, douchy soul patch, Zepplin shirt (nicely filled out by the way. Seriously, you don't see muscle definition in people who willingly eat from dumpsters). I hear his annoyingly self-righteous voice right below me say "you're the only person on this bus who doesn't look like a walking ad for the Gap". (Ha, joke's on you dumbass - everything I'm wearing is from the Gap!) But I play along, hang my head and say "consumerist fucks. No way man!" Suddenly this wannabe hippie thinks I'm worth talking to and decides he wants to go have a drink with me...right now. A rum punch sounded good and the stench of urine was becoming overpowering, so we headed over to one of my favorite bars, Hobsons Choice.
The "faux-hippie" as I began calling him in my head had an animal name (I made him show me his licence because I thought it was some hippie douchebag shit he made up. Seriously parents, don't name your kids stupid shit - it could cost them a roll in the hay someday). He talked....a lot. About the occupy movement, the re-emergence of hippies, how hard it was to meet "believers" in the city. He wasn't a dumb guy, just terribly misguided...and 22. It was so hard to hold my laughter in - this kid absolutely believed he was changing the world...and going home with me tonight.
We were one drink down when in the middle of his anti-consumerist rant, he suddenly stops to point out, "man, this place is fucking expensive!" I stared at him blankly for a second, then looked at the big sign behind the bar practically smacking us in the face saying "$3 Happy Hour Drink Specials" then looked back to him to point out the sign. He didn't skip a beat, "I know, that sucks!" I suddenly began tilting my head in that way you do when someone says something so stupid you feel like the weight of it will crush your skull. He continued rambling on "..I mean we could have grabbed a 6-pack of Pabst, went to park and talked about how we can fix this fucked up world..."
Suddenly, the dark scruff on his face and sexy slightly defined skinny-guy biceps weren't' sexy anymore and the laughter I tried to hold in exploded. Even the smokin hot female bartender started cracking up. I needed to figure out how to get out of this and snuck off to the bathroom with a wink from the bartender. Deciding to fake explosive diarrhea, I went back to the bar only to be pulled aside by some random drunk guy who told me in his very serious voice, "I hate to tell you this but your date was hitting on the bartender. I thought you should know". He was acting like he just said my mother had cancer. Being the smartass I am, I couldn't let this slide. I put on my serious face, looked him square in the eye and said, "I'm hitting on her too." Then I turned to wave at the bartender as she smiled back at me. The look of shock and a mumbled "damn san Francisco. Try to help a girl out..." sent nosy nellie away. I rejoined my date who looked like I just slapped him as he grabbed my jacket. "Your jacket is from Old Navy! How could you?" The look of indignation on his face was too much and I saw my opening. "Ya caught me, I'm a consumerist pig who wanted a date with you. Bummer, guess I'll go." He jumped up from the bar, "no, I'll go. Have fun destroying the world!" And he stormed out as far as skinny legs would take him.
I looked at the bartender and we were laughing so hard tears were coming out. I go to pay my tab but the bartender stopped me. "No way are you paying for drinks with captain asshat. The laughs alone were priceless! I've got it tonight." So I tipped her well and headed out to catch my bus.
I should have chalked up my first date as a Fail! Maybe it was the rum punch and residual pot smoke on the bus but I saw it as a win: I was open enough to encourage conversation; I went on a date with someone I normally wouldn't have and I got free drinks. And I learned that the 71-haight is good for more than a bathroom for the homeless.
It all started with me supposedly meeting one of my favorite humans for a drink at our bar, the Pilsner Inn in the Castro. I was about halfway there when I got a text saying my friend couldn't make it. Ok, that's cool but how in the hell was I getting home? I was stuck on Market Street nowhere close to an N-Judah until like a smelly, change-bumming savior coming to the rescue, the 71-haight bus came creeping up the hill packed to overflowing. Once the old lady with 80 shopping bags gets off (seriously, you dick!), I was able to cram my way in the back door (ooohhhhh yeah-ah - sorry, couldn't resist). I was sandwiched between an older Hispanic guy blatantly leering down my shirt and and a younger Chinese girl using her Gucci purse like a shield from the homeless guy trying to talk to her...ah, the 71 bus.
I was about to zone out when I notice a pack of suburban hippies across from me (not to be confused with trustafarians). I accidentally lock eyes with the one that doesn't look like he raided grandpa's 60's era closet - longer brown hair, douchy soul patch, Zepplin shirt (nicely filled out by the way. Seriously, you don't see muscle definition in people who willingly eat from dumpsters). I hear his annoyingly self-righteous voice right below me say "you're the only person on this bus who doesn't look like a walking ad for the Gap". (Ha, joke's on you dumbass - everything I'm wearing is from the Gap!) But I play along, hang my head and say "consumerist fucks. No way man!" Suddenly this wannabe hippie thinks I'm worth talking to and decides he wants to go have a drink with me...right now. A rum punch sounded good and the stench of urine was becoming overpowering, so we headed over to one of my favorite bars, Hobsons Choice.
The "faux-hippie" as I began calling him in my head had an animal name (I made him show me his licence because I thought it was some hippie douchebag shit he made up. Seriously parents, don't name your kids stupid shit - it could cost them a roll in the hay someday). He talked....a lot. About the occupy movement, the re-emergence of hippies, how hard it was to meet "believers" in the city. He wasn't a dumb guy, just terribly misguided...and 22. It was so hard to hold my laughter in - this kid absolutely believed he was changing the world...and going home with me tonight.
We were one drink down when in the middle of his anti-consumerist rant, he suddenly stops to point out, "man, this place is fucking expensive!" I stared at him blankly for a second, then looked at the big sign behind the bar practically smacking us in the face saying "$3 Happy Hour Drink Specials" then looked back to him to point out the sign. He didn't skip a beat, "I know, that sucks!" I suddenly began tilting my head in that way you do when someone says something so stupid you feel like the weight of it will crush your skull. He continued rambling on "..I mean we could have grabbed a 6-pack of Pabst, went to park and talked about how we can fix this fucked up world..."
Suddenly, the dark scruff on his face and sexy slightly defined skinny-guy biceps weren't' sexy anymore and the laughter I tried to hold in exploded. Even the smokin hot female bartender started cracking up. I needed to figure out how to get out of this and snuck off to the bathroom with a wink from the bartender. Deciding to fake explosive diarrhea, I went back to the bar only to be pulled aside by some random drunk guy who told me in his very serious voice, "I hate to tell you this but your date was hitting on the bartender. I thought you should know". He was acting like he just said my mother had cancer. Being the smartass I am, I couldn't let this slide. I put on my serious face, looked him square in the eye and said, "I'm hitting on her too." Then I turned to wave at the bartender as she smiled back at me. The look of shock and a mumbled "damn san Francisco. Try to help a girl out..." sent nosy nellie away. I rejoined my date who looked like I just slapped him as he grabbed my jacket. "Your jacket is from Old Navy! How could you?" The look of indignation on his face was too much and I saw my opening. "Ya caught me, I'm a consumerist pig who wanted a date with you. Bummer, guess I'll go." He jumped up from the bar, "no, I'll go. Have fun destroying the world!" And he stormed out as far as skinny legs would take him.
I looked at the bartender and we were laughing so hard tears were coming out. I go to pay my tab but the bartender stopped me. "No way are you paying for drinks with captain asshat. The laughs alone were priceless! I've got it tonight." So I tipped her well and headed out to catch my bus.
I should have chalked up my first date as a Fail! Maybe it was the rum punch and residual pot smoke on the bus but I saw it as a win: I was open enough to encourage conversation; I went on a date with someone I normally wouldn't have and I got free drinks. And I learned that the 71-haight is good for more than a bathroom for the homeless.
*applause*
ReplyDeleteThank you gorgeous. I need all the encouragement I can get!
ReplyDeleteI second that *applause*. These blogs are just too hilarious. I love it. =)
ReplyDelete