CHIVALRY ISN'T DEAD; IT'S JUST PASSED OUT AT THE BAR

Well, I had quite an interesting weekend. The most fun I had was when I stayed home on Saturday night to watch the SyFy Channel werewolf movie marathon and two old episodes of Lost. I wound up going to bed around midnight because my allergies were rampant- news reports say that this is going to be the worst season for pollen on record. Awesome. Can't wait!

On Friday night I went to see my friend's band play at this bar downtown that I used to go to all the time like, five years ago, but now I avoid it because it's a total sorority show. I was especially weirded out because all my friends hate that place, too, so I was there alone. I stood there uncomfortably while I watched all the underage alcoholics grind against each other and promised I would give my friend at least twenty minutes before I booked it.

I'm over it.

Ten minutes after I got there some howler monkey asked me why I wasn't dancing. I wanted to tell him that it was because I was a paraplegic and I forgot my wheelchair, but I figured it was too early for blatant bitchery. I said I wasn't in the mood yet, so he grabbed my hand and tried to twirl me. I can't stand when people I don't know randomly try to touch me, so this didn't go over well. Then he commanded me to smile, which I hate even more, and then he topped it off with a finger on my cheek like he was trying to make a dimple on my face. Excuse me, NO. I glared at him and he got scared and backed off.

It couldn't have been fifteen minutes before some other assclown frat boy came over and asked if I was really watching the Mets game. No, I was just trying to find a way to spark up a conversation with someone like you. Mission accomplished! I actually did say yes, though, and when he told me he was also a Mets fan, I figured he might not be so bad. I talked to him for about ten minutes before he told me he was 23 and lived with his parents. OK, so maybe I didn't have to marry him. Whatever.

Then I told him my age, and he goes, "Wow, I can't believe you're still going out to bars and stuff. That's pretty awesome. I can't even imagine being older than 25. You must be freaking out and thinking about babies." Then he asked for my number. I almost laughed in his face. FAIL!

I managed to stay until my friend finished the set, hung out with him during his break, and was home in time for Craig Ferguson.

On Thursday I went to karaoke with my friends like I usually do. I never sing, because no one wants to be subjected to that, but I always cheer on the people in my group (i.e. "bring the camera"). For some reason I actually decided to put some thought into my personal appearance that night and straightened my hair, put the girls on display and wore a skirt. I was walking into the bar with a guy friend and, because of all this, I walked past the Subscription. And, he totally didn't see me. Of course. On the bright side though, he looked like total shit. I have no idea why I used to be so into him.

Anyway, my friend and I got to the bar and met up with our other friends, this couple that's there every week. I do like this girl, but she's 20 years old and has this habit of giving me advice on how to pick up guys, despite the fact that everyone, including her, knows that her boyfriend cheats on her all the time. She claims it's her mission to "get me laid," even though I'm there to have fun with my friends and don't really give a crap. This is getting real old real fast, as it happens every week. For your consideration:

WEEK 1: Bathroom March 1, where she informed me that a whole table of guys checked me out. I said that I didn't care, because there were no hot guys there. She told me it didn't matter- the point was to flirt with guys I wasn't attracted to and then refuse to give them my number. I told her I don't play games. She said that was stupid.

WEEK 2: Bathroom March 2, where this time I got flirting lessons. Apparently the way to get guys is to wear low-cut shirts and then "smirk" at them.

WEEK 3: This Thursday, I actually met some guys that started talking to me about the game that I was watching on the bar TV. I wound up talking to one of them for awhile and found that he was actually pretty cool. My friend called me over and informed me that if I liked any of these guys, I should write my number on a napkin and give it to him. "He already asked for my number," I assured her, "I got this." "You have to make sure he'll call you." She told me. I finally reminded her that I've been doing this a hell of a lot longer than her, that I didn't really give a shit whether he calls me or not, and that again, I GOT THIS. That shut her up.

I know my friend means well, but I'm tired of this whole "single = alone" mentality. I happen to really enjoy being single. I can take off for the weekend without answering to anyone, or stay home on a Saturday night because I feel like it. I can talk about sports without some guy feeling threatened, and I can hang out with my friends as often as I want. I'm not saying I would turn down the right guy if I met him, but let's put it this way: Would I like to find someone? Yeah, eventually. Am I desperately on the hunt? Hell, no- and I don't need someone barely out of high school demanding that I change my lifestyle, or worse, teaching me how.

MY PERFECT SATURDAY NIGHT: