After a stint of online dating, I’ve decided meeting a guy in a bar may now be one of my better options. There aren’t any single eligible men at church and I work with married or old men, so the bar is where it at for this chick. I have however had my eye on this 94 year old sweetie at work. He calls me little chicken, (I’ve never been called little!) so we’ll see where that goes. Just kidding, I do have some boundaries people.
I was inspired after a dear friend and I went out for a little ladies night action a few weeks ago. The first bar we went to had excellent towny potential…if I was an older woman into smokers or a single dude looking for cougars, it would have been game on. We knew it was time to go when the man who sat down on the bar stool next to me looked like a guy I had embalmed before. I turned and looked at Ashley and indicating the midlife crisis, botched plastic surgery patient behind me, said: “The man behind to me looks dead. We need to relocate.”
This bar had a live band so we sauntered over to the front row to get in some primo people watching. There we found a forty year old birthday girl with a tiara, a super cute old couple, a woman lip-singing some nonsense and gal sporting purple crocs who was rhythm illerate. As far as a dance floor, doesn’t get much better than that.
And then to my surprise, it did! A couple came out on the floor that did something I’ve never seen in public before. They basically fast-danced out a domestic right there in front of us. They were about 45 (I point this out bc they were old enough to know better) and this man grabbed the woman by the back of her head, holding her hair all crazy, balled up in his fist and danced this way for multiple songs. I’m not exaggerating. It was the most obscene thing I’ve seen in 5-10. I couldn’t believe she was okay with him man handling her ‘do like that. It looked disrespectful and down right condescending. I would’ve wiener-slapped that fool. Ashley and I got the giggles so bad we almost fell off our chairs. Hairgrab was the straw that broke the townybar’s back. We couldn’t take it no mo. Thank God for this intervention… because it, and Uber Mohammed, brought us to our second and final location of the evening.
The next bar was amazing. Pull tabs, popcorn, swanky old bar feeling and people who didn’t look embalmed or like they were about to get a beatdown on the dance floor. We settled ourselves at the corner of the bar, next to a man with a Miller bottle and a coffee. I knew he was going to be a good neighbor and Ashley was excited to get a whiff of his caffeine as it was past her bedtime. While she was up early that day being an awesome mom and wife, I slept approximately 10 hours in my quiet peaceful cozy little house. Let’s take a moment and rejoice in the small joys of Singletude.
We didn’t notice when they arrived but a friendly guy with a wedding ring and a handsome guy, sans-ring, had just ordered a plate of wings and they were inches to our left. I told married guy that I almost ate some of his app when he was in the crapper. In spite of him being a native Coloradian, he MN-niced us and offered to share them. Then promptly got up to give us his stool as well, as Ashley and I were sharing the only open single bar stool.
Well that’s not entirely true… There was another open bar stool but it happened to be next to this dude who was severely drunk with a fixed look of surprise on his face. He had his eyebrows up with a furrow like he was waiting for the punchline. Except no one was telling him a joke and he appeared to be eavesdropping on everyone around him. Just lookin’ lit, surprised as all get out.
So Wings introduces us to his good looking friend. They were in town for their kids’ hockey game. Good looking friend had a severe Canadian accent I was diggin’ on. It was so thick it almost sounded English or Irish or like guy was from some other exotic country.
He used to play hockey and now coached high school kids back home. Some hockey friends came to meet us and it turns out Canada and one of the other coaches were wearing Lululemon men’s dress pants. Don’t get this twisted, we’re not talking fruity studded jeans. These are high end, butt-hugging, sharp athletic dress pants. I proceeded to inspect the stretch ability of Canada’s pant thigh by pulling on the seam near his knee. I’m sure I looked like I was hallucinating from an LSD trip but these pants were spectacular. Canada had no room for judgement as he mutually enjoyed my purse and at one point put my chain link purse strap in his mouth. What a weirdo.
Besides offering to feed me, Canada found the way to my heart; compliments. He was very sweet and polite. He told me I was beautiful and fun. Of course, my naive ass was sold.
We were catching the drift from Wings that Canada was a bit of a big deal in the hockey world, but he was humble and didn’t want to talk shop with us Minnesotans. Which was fine with Ashley as she was ready for Tequila shots.
I however, was on strict orders from Ashley’s husband to keep us in line when Tequila got mentioned. This was my cue that our night needed to end soon or I’d be holding Ashley’s hair back. Or barfing into it myself.
As we wrapped up our tab and our bar neighbors finished our left over French fries, my bombass wing woman encouraged Canada to take me outside to chat.
He said “Your friend Ashley… she is very aggressive.” I laughed in his face. Let me tell you, Ashley is the sweetest lil cutie I know and if he thought she was aggressive, he was in a world of hurt with me. So Canada got me outside, gave me a good hug and kiss and got my number.
Canada had a pretty unique real first name. So the next day I was doing some important Google research and with just his first name, I found out he was kind of a big deal. Dude played for the IHL and was pretty good. The best part was when I discovered he had his own friggin’ Wikipedia page.
Now I realize anyone can make one of those but some guy created it to showcase his hockey career and stellar stats. And I thought that was pretty damn excellent. I basically felt like I spent the evening with a celebrity. Plus I came across some of his old hockey pics and he had gorgeous eyes I didn’t even know about. Icy blue and magical.
I was telling my sister about my night and she tried to judge me on letting someone at a bar kiss me. My sister has been married for like 12 years and clearly has no clue about the dating struggle. After the conclusion of the story (you’ll find out next week) she called me a floozie. That’s what my grandma Mimi jokingly used to call loose women. I proceeded to correct my sister and informed her not to get lost in the details. Canada had a fucking Wikipedia page. Hello! Wassup dried-up superstar who thought I was a babe! That’s what I’m talkin ‘bout.
This story has an unexpected ending.. or expected, really. Knowing myself and the freakaleeks I attract, I should have seen it coming. Remember my last post about men being fickle and full of shit? Well Canada turned out to be what we nurses refer to as a full-on Code Brown or colon blow. Basically a shit explosion everywhere.
Stay tuned for the conclusion next week y’all. In the meantime, message me some good MN bars to find my future husband at. While you’re at it, I’m going to Boston in a few weeks, if you know any hot Boston spots, hit a girl up.