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Unnecessary hostility in bars
08/07/06
by Shaw

I suppose it's all our fault. We wrote a book, it became too popular, and men across the nation started taking it too seriously. Now it is backfiring on me when I go out to bars.

Maniquette Rule 476: "Treat all overly friendly men with total hostility until it is clear that they are not trying to have sex with you. Sufficient evidence of non-homosexuality includes arm wrestling, crushing beer cans on your head, and accurate use of the words 'poonhound' and 'muffdive.'"

As often seems to be the case, the above is a Maniquette that does not in any way reflect my own thoughts and actions. Aside from the false implication that "homosexuality" and "trying to have sex with you" are the same thing, the most base assumption that I disagree with is the need for "total hostility" when meeting new men. I have now encountered high levels of such hostility several times this weekend, which I did not reciprocate, and all of them have disturbed me on a deep level: am I not truly a man? Does my lack of desire to fight people make me feminine? Far apart from the recommendations of MNQT476, I generally treat all new people with the same friendliness and chiding wit that I use for my friends, and I have discovered that this is not normal behavior for men in bars--I have found that this behavior acts like lightning in primordial soup, occasionally destroying the surroundings, and sometimes creating new life.

In particular, men that are frustrated about not having luck with women are usually very hostile and potentially violent. On Friday I went to a bar in downtown DC to meet some friends. While the other two guys were playing Golden Tee, I stayed at the bar and talked with the three girls. It was pretty empty at the time and I might have been sitting with the only group of multiple women in the entire building. Oddly enough I guess I was not a threatening enough presence by myself to discourage other men from approaching the group. When one did so, his entry line was to ask if anyone "has fire" for his cigarette. While normally a friendly bunch of women, I don't think any of them had any interest in talking to this guy at all, and all responded that they did not have a light. I thought this whole pretense of approaching asking for a light was ridiculous since there were books of matches sitting in front of every stool at the bar, so I made a show of grabbing a book of matches and lighting the guy's cigarette for him. As far as I'm concerned he was asking for it by using a shitty line.

He was clearly perturbed by having a guy light his cigarette for him but that didn't stop him from sidling in between two of the girls and starting up a chat. One of them was more interested in text messages than talking to him and the other had earlier been so bored and distracted that she put on her iPod in the bar (which is not a reflection on me, I swear), so he didn't get much out of them. I kind of felt bad for him so I started talking to him. He was wearing a shirt that said "Arctic Drillers" on it and had a photo of a caribou with a bullseye painted on its chest and we had the following awkward exchange:

Shaw (S): So is that your softball team?

Kevin (K): Well, that's a good guess...

S: Huh. Kickball team? Bowling team?

K: No, softball.

S: Oh.

K: I said 'good guess.'

S: Right but you said it in a way that made me think you meant 'good guess' as in 'close, but no cigar.'

K: No.

S: Okay... so can I ask, is the name of your team ironic?

K: What do you mean?

S: Well, by the name, one would think you were making a statement in favor of drilling for oil in Alaska, which is fine, but the doomed caribou underneath seems to point to the environmental drawbacks of drilling in the wilderness, and someone that was in favor of drilling in Alaska would probably either try to downplay the environmental impact or argue that there won't even be one.

K: Well, have you ever tasted caribou? It's delicious.

S: I have, I agree, but what does that have to do with drilling?

K: You haven't actually had caribou.

S: Um... okay.

K: It's really good though.

S: I know.

K: No you don't.

I said his name was Kevin because after this I asked him his name so I could make a mental note about what not to name my first male child. At some point the girls next to me got a little concerned about his attitude and told him to be nice or leave. He replied that I was the one who was being a "tough guy." And then he left. I still don't understand his shirt. He probably still thinks I was gay and hitting on him.

The next night, my friend Tim was having a going away party for his imminent move to Switzerland. He planned it about two months ago, and had an excellent turnout, basically filling up the back room of Buffalo Billiards in DC with somewhere around 60 people at the high point of the night. Toward the end of the night, the only people really in the bar were Tim's party attendees.

Tim and I went to the bathroom at the same time, he used the stall and I used the urinal. As we were in there we were talking with the wall between us, which probably violated some future maniquette rule but since we know each other I felt like it was okay... unlike the guy that came in afterward, who definitely violated some maniquette: as I was washing my hands, he walked in, started using the urinal, and with his hand on his johnson, began a dialogue with me, who he didn't know. I should mention that he was about 5 feet tall and 100 pounds. Not that I am anything to speak of, but this guy was universally classifiable as "little." Warning: graphic language (necessary for the story):

Little Guy (L): Hey man, what the fuck is up with these bitches?

Shaw (S): [confused at clear maniquette violation and also at context of statement] Uh, not sure I know what you're talking about.

L: Man, none of these bitches will talk to me.

S: That sucks, dude.

L: Yeah man, they're all here for some Switzerland thing. You know what I'm talking about?

S: [Lying] No.

L: Yeah, I walked over to some bitches and they said they were here for some dude moving to Switzerland. Then some other bitches said the same thing.

S: [slightly offended that he is referring to all the girls as bitches, but not surprised that they would not want to talk to someone like this guy] Huh, that's weird.

L: Yeah, this fucking asshole's moving to Switzerland.

At this point, Tim is still in the stall and I decided it would be more fun to goad this kid on.

S: Yeah, what a bullshit country. What kind of asshole would move there? What a bunch of pussies. If you want to move somewhere real you should pick someplace that isn't neutral all the time, and where they do something with their time other than make knives, watches, and luggage.

L: Yeah, right. Switzerland sucks.

S: Fuck Switzerland.

L: Fuck Switzerland.

At this point Tim came out of the stall and we both left. I had heard him laughing in there while I was talking, but he never said anything to the guy. This seemed to be the end of it, but as I said, my open friendliness to unknown men is like lightning in primordial soup, it creates new life. All of the sudden, Tim stopped in his tracks, and said, "You know what? Fuck that guy." I wasn't sure what to make of this comment, but the normally totally peaceful Tim seemed intent on going back into the bathroom to fight this guy who would dare make fun of Switzerland. "He was little, I could beat that dude's ass." I held him back from charging the bathroom for a few seconds and tried to convince him it was because of me that the little guy was even really insulting Switzerland and the guy moving there. This was not successful. After three tries Tim broke free and stormed to the bathroom, kicked the door in, and yelled at the little guy, "You know what, motherfucker? I'm moving to fucking Switzerland. Fuck you." Then Tim walked back toward the bar. Now I thought that the incident was over. It wasn't. The little guy was now leaving the bathroom and coming after Tim, who saw this, and turned around and pushed the guy hard into the wall... I stood between them for a second when the bouncer came over and ejected Tim from the bar.

So what is the moral of all this? I guess I started out writing this column thinking I would be writing in favor of disavowing MNQT476, but hell if those hostile guys didn't make both of those nights a hell of a lot more entertaining.

So keep at it, America. Buy Maniquette and follow her rules to the letter.

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