“Solitude, the feeling and knowledge that one is alone, alienated from the world and oneself-is not an exclusively Mexican characteristic. All men, at some moment in their lives feel themselves to be alone. And they are. To live is to be seperated from what we were in order to approach what we are going to be in the future. Solitude is the profoundest fact of the human condition.” ~ Octavio Paz
I went out alone tonight.
It was Fat Tuesday and I had committed to going out a long time ago. Even after my first day back at my old job, I was convinced that I was going to go out. I have had this thing lately where I actually keep my commitments rather than being the generally flaky guy I normally am.
Still, it wasn’t easy. It was cold outside, and I missed my original bus which I thought was supposed to come at 10:50. As the clock struck 11:15, I decided to head back inside. It was 20 degrees outside, I would wait until the next one came indoors. The next bus came at 11:47, I hopped on it and took the 20 minute bus ride to the bar.
In the back of my mind on the bus ride was the question, “how am I going to get home?” I’d already answered this question in my head: if BartenderMan or Hero are there, ask them for a ride, if not, leave early and take a taxi.
It was really a simple and pragmatic solution. Sometimes I dwell on stupid shit. I’ve found that consistent daily meditation helps remove a lot of needless thoughts (overthinking).
I hadn’t been to a top 40 bar in awhile. I was calm but uncomfortable, the calmness aided by me taking an adderall. The uncomfortable is how I usually feel when I walk into a bar alone. Having a friend to lean on and talk to can be a real crutch when trying to do this PUA shit.
I mean, it’s a totally different experience because you don’t necessarily have anyone to talk to in the most social setting of them all. Some people who go to the bar alone sit in a stool and stare at a TV for hours on end, I’VE BEEN THERE! Lately however, I have struck up conversation with at least one stranger.
I walked into the bar and immediately got complimented on my hair by some dude, then some girl, totally unrelated. I tried striking up conversation with the girl, but it turned out the dude and the girl went to the same HS. After about five minutes, I was just the guy in the middle being ignored, trying to get a drink. The one dude had the LOUDEST voice, I was envious.
“Speak from your diaphragm!” He said.
I eventually said, fuck this shit and go upstairs. I open this one girl, but she is preoccupied because the guy she is with is talking to another girl. I should have been like, “fuck all that shit, I’m your guy tonight.”
As a side note, this was the wackest party in terms of Mardi Gras. First off, I went to college and went to PLENTY of Mardi Gras parties. In college, there would be PLENTY of indecent exposure at those parties whether you had beads or not, you would at least see a titty or something. Not the case tonight!
That’s not to say that naked women with beads was what I was looking for tonight. I actually think the concept of giving a girl a bead because she has lifted up her t-shirt or because she will make out with you is low grade prostitution, and while I’m not against prostitution by any means, I feel like I could save the $20 I would spend on beads and use it to get head from a street whore 3 blocks from where I live.
Anyways, lots of hot ladies running game on guys getting beads in exchange for good conversation from what I saw. Cool. I was inside my head a lot tonight, but I still managed to talk to a few ladies. Some lady I opened thought it was the green light for her to start talking about my hair like two minutes into the conversation, then her and her friend ran their hair through my shit. “Now where are MY beads?” I thought. Sheit.
The night ended by chatting up the coat check girl who actually works with Hero and Spy on occassion. She called me Kid and Play and I busted on her for it. There was no sexuality at all to the conversation, and she apologized for calling me that-I have an afro, not a high-top!
I left a little after 1:30 to ensure that I could catch a cab home. THREE cab drivers drove past me and opened their doors to people that were further down the street than me. When the fourth pulled up, I told him about this, and I told him I was mad at myself because I am just not aggressive enough while those people were.
“No, it’s because you are Black.” He told me.
He went on a diatribe about how he had been robbed three times, all by Black males. “You have a more educated look to you though, Leigh. But a lot of cab drivers don’t see that.”
That made me kind of sad. I understood where he was coming from, but I was still sad.
I can’t change the color of my skin. If a cab driver doesn’t want my money, I’ll find one who will!!!
So, what did I learn tonight?
The main lesson is that going out alone isn’t that bad. Ultimately, I am going to have to cut down on going out with King Lear, and venture out on my own. This weekend will likely be the first!