A Night at the Wine Bar

On a recent Girls Night Out with some friends, we found ourselves at a ‘wine bar’, which I think is code for a bar with comfortable seating frequented by the 35-50 demographic. As soon as we walked in and claimed our real estate, a boisterous gentleman let’s call Bob greeted us. Bob was attentive and seemed intent on making sure the six of us had a good time. At first we assumed Bob was the proprietor, or maybe an especially fulfilled employee.

However, when Bob failed to take our drink order, suggested we call him Big Bob, and embarked on a long reminiscence of his high school basketball career, it became evident we were on our own in the drink department. Amid Bob’s gregarious tale telling we collected drink orders and sent a scout to the bar. When she tried to hand the bartender a credit card, Bob intervened. The Big Man wanted to cover our round. Back in the circle of revelry much fuss was made over Bob’s generous contribution and soon we were sipping and chatting about other things.

At the same time, two more women showed up and joined our group. On one of his showy trips to the bar to fetch our drinks, Bob’s seat was taken. Instead of gallantly standing by, continuing to enjoy our company (including those of us who were also standing or less-than-comfortably perched on hard furniture), Bob asked one of us to get up so he could have her seat. Also, he wanted her to sit on his lap.

Um… no.

You don’t have to be young and sexy to get our attention. We appreciate conversation and appreciation. Even boring stories and the ill-advised hand on the leg we can accept, so long as you are entertaining us. But don’t push it.

“I just bought you drinks and you won’t even sit on my lap? That’s not very professional.”

Dear, sweet, pathetic Bob. Perhaps if you’re looking for a professional, you hit the wrong bar

The Trouble With Women

I complained about men earlier in the week, so now I’ll pick on women.

One of the most interesting things about Facebook is keeping up with your friends’ and acquaintances’ social lives – lives that you may or may not be a part of. This afternoon I logged onto my Facebook account and was greeted by news of an event several people I know attended.

Thought #1: Well that looks like something I would definitely NOT enjoy.

Immediately followed by:

Thought #2: Why wasn’t I invited to that?

So what is wrong with me? And when I say me, I’m thinking us, as women. What is wrong with us?

Exploiting the Male Brain For Fun and Profit

Man: Blah, blah, blah.
Woman: The way I see it [insert original thought here].
Man: [without acknowledging woman] Yada, yada, yada.

*1 hour later*

Woman: Blah, blah, blah.
Man: The way I see it [insert woman's original thought here].
Woman: [speechless]

It is not their fault. This is the way the male brain works. In that one hour (or five minutes or three days or whatever) their little synapses are working out a way to convince the male that he actually came up with the thought on his own. I repeat: he cannot help it. So instead of letting it bother us, let’s learn to work with the male brain. Surely there has to be a way to use this knowledge to make them clean up their own crumbs and decide we are far too busy to cook for them.

I have no idea how to actually make this happen. Suggestions?