Filed under: Ruthless
Considering that in my last adventure alone at a bar, I found myself sitting next to a really drunk woman singing at the top of her lungs who insisted on “cheers!”-ing my water glass several times with hers as I waited nervously for a blind date (who unfortunately did not turn out to be the hot guy who approached me as I waited, asking if I was “Nora”, his date. Sigh.), I was a little reluctant to take the first step into Girl Meets Bar. But, alas, one of my New Year’s resolutions was to try to be more open, and what’s more open than going to a bar alone just for the hell of it? So in I went.
I found myself at the People’s Republik in Cambridge. Nestled between uppity Harvard Square and gritty Central Square, it’s a safe and comfortable neighborhood choice that I knew would be a good place to start this adventure—a chill crowd, cheap beer, and an easy set-up of a square bar in the middle of a room with some dart boards—perfect to scope out the scene.
Although not too much actually happened on my first time out, I did learn some great beginner’s lessons from this first adventure that I’d like to share:
Lesson #1: Allow yourself some time to warm up.
As soon as I found my seat, I did what I always do when I’m sitting awkwardly alone—I rustled through my purse. My purse is Mary-Poppins-Bag huge, so this was a lot of rustling. When I realized that no one was staring at me with the I-Spot-A-Woman-Alone judgment stare, I took a deep breath, relaxed a bit, and ordered a Red Stripe. I needed a little of that Jamaican ale to help me relax, and I pulled out my prop. Which leads me to my next lesson…
Lesson #2: Bring an interesting prop.
While eavesdropping on my neighbors, I will admit to spending most of my time pretending to read my homework–a dense article on language and gender that screamed “Don’t talk to me–I’m doing homework! In a bar!” If someone had started speaking to me, I could have told them all about the gendered norms of speech, the gender display in pitch, timber, and YAAAAWN…. next time I think I’ll bring a prop that’s a little more approachable.
Lesson #3: Choose your seat wisely.
I was lucky enough to find myself sitting next to a sea captain hanging out at the bar. Now, walking into a bar in Boston and finding a sea captain sipping a beer is like walking into a bar in Kentucky and finding a horse racing jockey sipping a Bourbon on the rocks—it’s just too perfect. Sporting a red and black flannel shirt and a long shaggy grey beard, he was straight out of Moby Dick. As I listened in on his chatter with his friends, I learned that he did indeed own a boat and was anxious for the warm weather to return so he could take it out. I also learned that he could perform wedding ceremonies on his boat if he took it at least 3 miles out to sea. Who knew sea captains could multi-task so creatively—navigator of the high seas and wedding officiant? I thought about trying to finagle a boat trip on the Charles out of this captain and his friends (now that would be a blog entry) but figured that would be too bold, so sitting silently and listening would have to do. Next time. It also turned out that it was one of his friend’s birthday, and at 56 years old, she was adamant that it would be unsafe for her to dance on the bar at her age. I listened as she carefully tried to convince the captain to partake in very a complicated-sounding upcoming gift swap, to which he replied, “I’ll be on my boat.”
And finally, Lesson #4: Wear your glasses.
Even if you don’t like them. I heard a lot on this adventure, but I didn’t see too much.
As I walked out of the bar 46 minutes later, I was proud of myself—I enjoyed a good beer, learned some important Girl Meets Bar do’s and don’ts, and (happily) didn’t learn a thing about language and gender.
Bring on the next adventure.
