Being Hit On

Posted on January 23, 2013

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Bad things are happening...

Bad things are happening…

This story is the definition of why meeting guys at bars is awful. Basically, drunk boys are the absolute worst.

The other night, I was out at a friend’s birthday party at 3 Sheets Saloon in the West Village.  A guy approached. I couldn’t tell if he was with the party or a random bystander. What I could tell was that he was really, really wasted. Men shouldn’t have that much trouble walking in a straight line.

“Heyyy,” he looked me up and down. “I haven’t met you yet. I’m Devin.”

“I’m Raz,” I shook his hand.

“So what do you do?” he asked.

“I’m an editor and writer,” I said. “What about you?”

“I work in PR.”

“Very cool.”

“So what do you write about?”

“Oh, all kinds of things,” I said.

“Really? That’s all you’re gonna say?” he asked, visibly upset. “Why won’t you tell me?” Suddenly his sloppy drunkenness turned into angry drunkenness.

“It’s not important,” I tried to change the subject. “So it was nice to meet you…” I started turning away.

“Walking away would be such a huge mistake on your part,” he said, grabbing my arm. “You heard me say I work in PR, right? I can help with your career!”

“You can help with my career?!” Now I was mad. “I prefer to stop talking to you.”

He grabbed my arm again. “You’re the one who came up to me!”

“That’s just not true.” I managed to successfully grab my girl friend who was walking by and leave the annoying angry Devin behind.

Five minutes later, I had almost forgotten about our uncomfortable encounter, happily chatting with my friends. The next thing I know, something slammed into the small of my back, knocking the wind out of me and sending my drink flying and shattering on the ground. I was bowled over into my friends.

I turned around, and shocker of shockers, Devin was in a huge fight in the middle of the bar, destroying everything in his path. Yup, he’d hit on me and then hit me, or rather punched me. And it really hurt! It didn’t take long before he was being dragged out by a bouncer.

As I said, it’s always the real winners who try to pick me up in bars.

At the end of the day, he was right, though. He did help out my writing career a little bit. Thanks for the story, Devin.

—Raz, 26, NYC 

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Posted in: My Stories