Not really a deep thought, but I may have possibly witnessed the biggest case of Little Man Syndrome / Douchebaggery ever. Subject: male, probably 5’6” – 5’8,” shaved head, attractive face (to be honest, he was pretty hot for a little guy), dressed in trendy flannel shirt, fitted guy jeans, boat shoes, and leather necklace w/a metal pendant (think Hollister).
He shows up in the BBR all by himself, no friends in sight. To begin, he’s all over the dance floor, trying to show off his moves, smiling and winking at anyone who looks his way. Then he’s flirting w/some girl in a skanky purple tank top. Buys her a buttery nipple shot (hint: guys, if for whatever reason you ever care what a bartender thinks about you, don’t get a buttery/slippery nipple shot. You look a pansy with bad taste. We will make fun of you.). Also knocks over girl’s beer in the process, has to buy her a new one.She goes to the bathroom, he repeats ridiculous behavior on the dance floor. Finds two girls and molests them. He starts on Blonde Friend and proceeds to dry hump her from behind, leaving Brunette Friend to dance by herself, looking and surely feeling very awkward as she watches her friend get violated. But don’t worry, soon he has roped her into the action, latching one arm around Brunette Friend so that she must dance on his ass while he continues to grind on Blonde Friend, effectively making a Douchebag Sandwich. Cute girls, very nice, I had talked to them earlier… was very disappointed in them for letting this happen. Buys them all shots and a beer for himself, proceeds to knock over his earlier beer (which was still ¾ full), looks at it, looks at me, winks, and walks away.
Somehow this threesome breaks up, and at next sighting he has reunited with Purple tank top girl. He resumes dancing with her, from behind of course so he can still eye f*ck every other girl in sight. Back to the bar, buys them both bottled beers. Lifts his to his lips, misses his mouth by a good three inches, pours beer all over his exposed chest and down his flannel shirt. Embarrassed? Nope. Grabs girl behind the head and rams it towards him, so that she can lick spilled beer off his chest. I try not to puke in my mouth. He looks at me… winks.I get busy, lose visual contact. When I get a break, I find him again on the dance floor wrangling in new girl. Big girl (refer to last post). I realize he has a signature move: I call it Quicksand. He corrals any girl not currently dancing with another guy when she comes within his wingspan. He reaches out an arm, wraps it around the waist, and curls her in like an octopus (or what I think octopuses (octopi?) do). He is the center, his reach is the radius… get within that circumference and you’re a goner. Just like quicksand.
Anyway, he has roped in Big Girl and she seems to be enjoying getting it from behind, so much so that she gives some back. Big butt bumping into him proves too much for little guy, and he literally goes bouncing off. Bounced in the direction of the bar, naturally he comes for a drink. At this point, Chad (other bartender) have literally been laughing at and providing our own commentary on this guy for nearly two hours. I lose Rock, Paper, Scissors, and have to go see what he wants. Orders bottled beer. I can not make this up – as soon as I place the fresh beer on the bar, he once again knocks over his earlier beer.
Why keep serving him, you might ask? 1: He tips (Chad and I have already decided that based on his clothing, his attitude, and the fact that he has money, he’s probably from Shawnee Mission East). 2: He cannot be that drunk, seeing as how the beer in his hand is always at least ½ full and he continuously spills that. 3: It is a horrendously slow night (Plaza Art Fair night), we can’t really afford to turn away business when his only sign of drunkenness is foolishness, and as described above, I am quite certain that is his overriding character trait.
He orders a beer and a shot of Rumplemintz. For those of you who may not know, Rumple is 100 proof peppermint schnapps, so it's super strong. It's also delicious and tastes just like Christmas. (And in one of those cases where dumb/drunk people say something so stupid it kinda makes sense, I was once told: "It's the perfect thing to take at last call because it's so minty fresh. If you're going home with somebody, you don't have to brush your teeth. And if you get pulled over, the cops won't smell the alcohol and won't think you've been drinking." But I digress...) The important point here is that it's also clear. So I grab a shot glass, turn my back to him and fill it with water. It's close to last call, and I've decided I am done dealing with this guy (Thursday night a guy threw up on the bar in front of me... not in the mood for a repeat). As described in the rest of this post, this guy is clearly a winner. He takes the shot, slams the shotglass down on the bar, and shakes his head like he's motorboating someone, like he just took straight well tequila. And winks, like now I'll really think he's a badass for taking the whole shot. Clearly he's convinced that I am under this impression, because instead of walking away, he leans on the bar and leans toward me. Trying not to laugh right at him, I raise my eyebrows as if to say "Yes???" He proceeds to tell me how beautiful I am and how beautiful my eyes are. Now, if I didn't already know he was drunk, this would be a clear giveaway, as I have horrible allergies this time of year and my eyes are completely bloodshot and I look like a total crackhead. Again, I try not to laugh in his face (though I do laugh, but hopefully he doesn't realize it's 100% at him and not at all with him), and mumble thank you or something along those lines. Bad move. Now he asks what my plans are after work. I tell him going home with my boyfriend and point to Chad, who is standing behind me eavesdropping, laughing so hard his face is about to turn purple. (Chad is fantastic, but all you have to do is look at us to see that we have COMPLETELY different styles, and that Chad is about 10 years older than me.) I fear this didn't work, because he grabs my hand from across the bar. He kissed my hand... winks... and walks away.
Somehow Purple Tank Top Girl is still around and has not been swept up, and they reunite on the dance floor. A little more skanky dry humping before last call and the lights finally come on. Much to my breathless delight, I get one final wink as he and girl head up the stairs. While I would have preferred to be too busy to witness any of this, if I couldn't make any money, at least I had some good laughs.
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