Whiskey was my drink of choice. In fact, Whiskey has started to become a very close friend to my liver this Summer, so we're just going to keep going with that trend. I was at this gay bar called "Purr," which I thought was interesting because when I think of "purr," I think of pussy, which I thought was a lesbian bar. But it's actually a gay bar. I slide up to the bar with my friends and we begin ordering drinks. This mind you, was after we car barred (sp?) Just for a heads up, car barring is the act of drinking a lot of booze before entering a bar or party, etc etc. Basically like a pre-funk. Anyway, I drink way too much Montego Bay, which is possibly one of the worst rums ever...but I bought a half gallon of it. Waste not, want not! So back to the bar, we start ordering Whiskey drinks and we run into some people from school randomly, this was a Wednesday night I believe, and strike up some conversation. One of the fellows that they were with knew who I was from back when I was a stupid and drunk nugget (what has changed? Beats me.)
Man: "I remember you, Gabby. We met two years ago."
Gabby: "Funny, because I don't remember you. What's your name?"
Man: "You seriously don't remember me, Gabby?"
Gabby: "Nope! Did we hang out?"
Man: "Yeah...I kept tryin' to flirt with you. You don't remember?"
Gabby: "That was a long time ago...sorry?"
Man: "It's okay, we made out. Do you remember that?"
Well shit, now I just feel awkward. The guy is staring at me like I'm supposed to say something or finally remember that one drunk night but nothing is coming to mind. I sort of do a stupid dumb bitch giggle and walk away, dumbfounded and not really knowing what to do or say. So the obvious comes to mind.
Just keep drinking, just keep drinking, just keep drinking, what do we do we drink, drink, drink.
The guy walks over to his friends but he still is looking at me so I try and direct my attention towards my friends and now to this extremely drunk man that comes up and starts talking to us. He is slurring his words like none other and I drunkenly decide to strike up conversation because he is alone and wasted. He starts talking about how he's gay and straight and completely in the middle of both, and I go along with it, knowing that he was definitely more gay than straight, mainly because he kept talking about my friend's ass and how he likes guys with baby faces. And then he tried to go on about the straight part saying how much he liked my hair and chest, and then he kissed me. I didn't really know how to respond to that. So I bid him farewell, and we went to the next bar, a gay friendly place named R-Place. Also, that man tagged along with us, now that I was drunk and ready to listen to his story of how we met.
He told me the story, which I obviously forgot immediately, and we stroll up to R-Place. The name of this bar is very deceiving. I have been with friends and we meet new people at bars and ask if they want to go to R-Place and then people think that we are assuming to come back to OUR place. No you dirty bastard, the bar. You think we're that easy? Pish posh you wild fuck. That's like these guys that my friend and I met at a bar called Linda's who were from South Carolina or some shit. One of them was real nice and liquored up and kind of had a Southern twang, he also kept saying how much he liked the rodeo. SO much in fact, that he pulled his shirt off and showed us his tattoo. Across this guy's fucking back is the illustration of a cowboy lassoing a cow or a bull or something ridiculous. Who gets a cowboy lassoing a cow across their shoulders? Christ.
Back to the night at R-Place, we end up grooving at the bar and it's actually a really fun spot. A bunch of gay men dancing the night away to really great music. I had a blast. And so did the man. I probably shouldn't have made out with him, stupid Whiskey, why do you always do this to me? Well, at least I remember one of the times we twisted tongues, 1/2. CHOO CHOO.
Another occasion when I went to the Hill was maybe a Tuesday night with a group of good pals. We go to this bar called Cha Cha. It's actually not called Cha Cha, something else, but everyone calls it Cha Cha, and I like it. The ambiance contrast from first walking in, then going to the downstairs area is super different. The upstairs is really chill, like a calm dive bar, where there are normal people eating and casually having a few beers. You then proceed to walk downstairs into this very dim lighted area with lights strewn everywhere and kind of a Mexican bar sort of feel. The special tonight was Modelos, and of course Tequila shots. I grab a Modelo and sit down with my friends. They have a huge projector screen downstairs and they were showing David Bowe's "Labyrinth." What a fucking random movie to watch while drinking, right? More of our friends join up and I had now consumed a double Whiskey Sour with a shot of Whiskey on the side. One of my friends points to this guy in a gray suit and tells my other friend and I to go see if we can get him to buy us a drink. She's up for it, I'm a little hesitant, until I finally say what the fuck, and test da waterrss.
Gabby: "So, why are you wearing a suit?"
Suit Man: "Because I just got off work and I'm meeting friends."
My Friend: "You think you can try and pick up girls with a suit, eh?"
Suit Man: "No..that wasn't my intention at all."
My Friend: "I'm going to go get a drink..."
Gabby (who decides to stick around): "So what line of work are you in?"
Suit Man: "I'm in financing (our accounting, who knows at this point)"
Suit Man: "Do you know what Hedge Funds are?"
Gabby: "Yes!" (only hearing about them when Alien Orb Seeker would discuss them, when in reality having absolutely no idea what the fuck they are.)
Suit Man then proceeds to go on and on about Hedge Funds and yadididiyada and I stop paying attention, giving him the polite nod and smile that people do when they act like they are completely engaged and interested in a perfectly pointless conversation. I excuse myself and return to my friends and dish to them what just happened with Suit Man. We then move on to a different bar, more like a night club, and continue to drink more and more. We keep on hoppin' to other bars until we run into Suit Man and his posse, and we stroll on over to Havana night club. Unfortunately, they had a cover, and I had run out of dollaz. One of the posse members decided to buy everyone's cover. Nice move bucko. We all saunter in start dancing. It was 90's night, so the music was great. Suit Man and I hit the dance floor and start groovin'...except it was a different kind of groove. We were listening to some hip hop song, and he starts slow dancing with me, and he also says that we should both close our eyes because it makes it more sensual. I was so intoxicated that the room and lights were coming together in a whirl so closing my eyes was the last thing that I wanted to do. But I humored him, for a bit at least. We must have looked either incredibly wasted or in love. I'm not sure which one was worse at that point.
At the end of the night, he gave me his business card, and everyone went home, and we got a ride home with our friend's mom. Bless her little heart. Another win for a Capitol Hill Tuesday.
Side Note: French Men are not too shabby at "French Kissing."