Very Serious Barista

Their Magic is Strong

When you are a single guy out for a night on the town you must be a warrior. You must be prepared for battle in any form it manifests. I have conquered the unexpected stomach grumblers of the south and retreated to a nearby Chinese restaurant to re strategize. I have danced the forbidden “dance of the largess” and escaped with only mild B.O. and a phone number. I’ve engaged in the perpetual banter of the witty and come out exhausted but unscathed. My banner men (bros?) who fight bravely with me in the field would lavish me with praise and speak to my fealty and pretty sweet dance moves. There is one enemy, however, one battle I have yet to figure out or emerge victorious from. I speak of the haggards at the gate.

The haggards are a proud group. Undeservedly so, but proud nonetheless. They guard their attractive friends with a passion and bloodlust that renders most warriors useless. Depending on the rabid nature of a particular haggard, one may spend as few as twenty seconds or as long as an entire evening trying to marginalize their presence. On certain nights the numbers are in your favor. With a stirring enough whiskey induced battle cry, you might convince a fellow warrior to “jump on the grenade,” “fall on the battle axe,” or as it should be known “just generally have a bad night with an ugly girl.” Other nights you are outnumbered. Your banner men may be tired and resort to comment making in the corner or talk about how good In and Out sounds. You are forced to go rogue and face the haggard’s’ treachery head on.

Treachery behind those smiles

During my last encounter I was ten minutes into a delightful yell-off at a club with a Hawaiian treat when it happened.

“Where are you from?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Why do you dance like that?”
“Do you come here often?”
“Isn’t this place so random?”

Fuck off! Back you haggards! Back I say. But there magic was strong. Dances were interrupted, bathroom breaks were taken, whispering sessions were had and one was bold enough to back up her formidable and unshapely rump on my increasingly flaccid long sword. The night ended with quesadillas and light creeping on the book, not quite how I drew up the battle plan.

Their attractive friend is in the middle somewhere. So tough.

So congratulations haggards on another battle well fought. You saved your friend for another night, from what I’m not sure. Nobody wins in this situation, unless you count grinding your sweaty back against me for the entirety to “Make it Nasty.” Are you really hoping I will make an egregious error in judgment and choose/jump/fall on you over a Hawaiian treat? This is not college, my nocturnal tastes are too discerning. I know we will continue to meet in battle, but it is my wish and great hope that one day I will approach the gates and not have to draw my sword in such haste. That I will be shown respect for my courage and wished well on my arduous journey that lies ahead. Until we meet again…

– Another Fallen Hero

Tags: battle, clubs, dancing, dating, friends, gaming, nightlife, relationships