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The Anti-Valentine Recap

Last week, when I announced that February 24 would be my last day working here, one of my buddies from work said he wanted to hang out and buy me a drink. I’ve not hung out with him before, and never introduced him in the blog, but I was up for a drink so I invited him to meet up at the Red Tub last night for The Anti-Valentine. Not wanting to get there right as it started, we decided to meet there around 7:30. This worked out well for me, because otherwise I would’ve been going alone, and I’ve recently been advised that I simply don’t want to be That Guy. (The one who goes to bars alone.)
By the time work was over, I was flat-out exhausted. I’d had a crazy weekend and it finally caught up with me. So I decided a nap was in order. I fell into the couch at 4:30 and blacked out until 7:00. I woke up and checked my messages, finding one inviting me out for Chinese with Fisherman and Mouth at 6:30. Oh well, guess I missed dinner. I took a quick shower and shaved, and headed out to the Red Tub, arriving at 7:30 on the nose.
The place was still warming up, apparently, because there were only five people there so far. This doesn’t bother me at all, because I hate crowds. I ordered a Newcastle from the bar, because it’s the only beer they have on tap, and sat at a side table to await my co-worker.
People started arriving in packs, and most of these packs merged into one large pack with two scattered groupings. Quite of few of the people there were there as couples. Now I expected a handful of couples to show up, but most of the girls there were on the arm of a guy when they came in. I think I missed the memo that said “Anti-Valentine” was couple-friendly. It didn’t really bother me, though, as I was just there for beer and to donate some extra cash to the American Heart Association.
I was ordering my second beer when I realized I’d still not heard from my buddy. I sat back at the table and checked my nonexistant messages, and then called and left one for him. It went straight to voicemail, which usually means the phone is turned off. Not a good sign. With a shrug, I went back to my beer and people-watching.
The place was getting pretty crowded, and the packs of people were now officially too large to break into. I’m of the belief that it’s socially unacceptable to butt into the conversation of a group if the group is larger than three people. This means that there is a very small window of opportunity to jump into a pack of people you don’t know, and that window is usually the first hour of the night. At this point of the night, that window of opportunity had closed. What does this mean?
I was That Guy. My buddy was an hour late at this point, and I’d written him off. I was at a bar by myself. To make matters worse, I was at a bar on Valentine’s Day, at an event supposedly designed for singles, surrounded by unavailable women. I admit, I was not able to surpress the bitterness at this point. I finished my second beer, dropped my remaining cash in the donation box, and headed home at 8:45.
Once home, I grabbed my bottle of Absolut from the freezer, a shot glass from the counter, and sat on the couch to watch The Rundown. I vaguely remember that The Rock went to the Amazon for something… and then I woke up on the couch at 7:00 this morning. Somewhere deep inside of me, I feel like that was a very bad thing to do.

Addendum

After drinking oneself into a blackout with straight vodka, it is unadvisable to eat Chinese Buffet for lunch the next day. My stomach has filed a formal grievance against my mouth and my decision-making process.
In Other News…
I’ve been thinking about changing my blog a bit, or perhaps even starting a second one which is less focused on me and more focused on the world, and my reaction to world events. It would be sort of a sarcastic, witty political column that spouts off ill-informed opinions at random, but in a much funnier manner than Fox News. Thoughts?

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