"Hottest Girls at the Bar"

Girls, I get it now.  I admit, I used to not have much sympathy for your plight.  Girls complaining of constantly being hit on, constantly having to turn down male advancements, the occasional awkward or unwanted conversation because some randodude bought you a round.  I used to roll my eyes a bit.

"Oh, being hit on and getting free drinks is so difficult."  (Eye rolls).

Here I thought you women were just being, well, bitchy.

I mean, I know some of us guys can be douchey.  I know some of us can be awkward.  I know some of us can be boring.  Stupid.  Immature.  Arrogant.  Assholes.  And on and on and on.

But still, to complain about being talked to, being hit on?  There are worse things in the world.

But I had an experience while I was visiting the fine country of Costa Rica that made me understand your situation.  That put me fully in your corner.  In fact, next time I hear a lady complaining about being hit on or approached, I will stand and applaud.

So what happened?  How was I enlightened?

Well, to put it quite bluntly, a buddy of mine and I walked into a brothel.

I mean, for all intents and purposes it was a brothel.  The front for this brothel was a fancy hotel bar.  My buddy and I had just arrived in Costa Rica and we wanted to explore the sights and sounds of San Jose.  We grabbed a decent dinner across from our own hotel and then wandered about.  Believe it or not, the tourist book we were reading from actually guided us to this place.  We walked in and immediately noticed that, unlike the majority of American bars, this bar was teeming with ladies.  Mostly attractive ladies in short skirts with cleavage pouring out all over the place.  We looked around and noticed that ladies OWNED this place.  There was a smattering of men around as well.  Grey haired American men.  Not a lot of young guys.  Actually, NO young guys.  Just old dudes, hot chicks, and my buddy and I (two early 30 American bros).  So naturally, instead of turning around and walking out the door and finding another establishment, we sat down at the bar and ordered two Imperials.

We were not naive.  We knew what was going on here.  We were surrounded by ladies of the night.  The bartenders looked to be off-duty pros, strutting their stuff in heels and accompanied with the fakest of endowments in the whole place.  I can't help but admit I felt a little uncomfortable.  I had never seen anything like this, so blatant, in the states before.  We tried not to make eye contact, as eye contact could be seen as an invitation.  So my buddy and I turned our beers toward each other and we shot the shit amongst ourselves.

Except, as I mentioned, we were two young thirty-something Americans.  And the rest of the place was filled with card carrying AARP members.  In other words, we felt like we were, in essence, the hottest girls at the bar.  And like the hottest girls at the bar, one by one, we got approached.  They came in duo's.  Always two.  Always about 5-10 minutes apart.  They'd brush a finger across our backs.  Or they'd ruffle our hair.  They'd spend anywhere between 30 seconds to 2 minutes making small talk before they made their pitch.  They are working girls after all.  They don't have time to waste.

Sample conversation:

"Hey baby, what's your name."
"Macster."
"Where you from?"
"America."
"Oh, America.  I've always wanted to go to America."
"Yeah, it's great."
"What part?"
"Um, San Francisco?"
"Oh, that's a great city."
"Yes it is."
"So do you want to have sex tonight?"

The first couple times, we were awkward and shy.  But, like how girls get used to being hit on once they hit puberty, we became quick experts on showing disinterest or politely declining their offers.

Sample conversation 2:

"You're cute."
"Thank you."
"Do you speak any Spanish?"
"No."
"Oh, I don't speak English."
"You're speaking it pretty well right now."
"Thank you.  My name is Amelia."
"We're just having a drink and catching up.  We don't want to waste your time.  We're not interested."
"You don't want to fuck me?"
"Not for money."
"That's too bad."
"We'll get over it.  Good luck!"

After several approaches (and several Imperials) we started having fun with it, much like I imagine girls start entertaining themselves as male suitors continually interrupt them.

"You boys look lonely."
"We're not."
"My name is Destiny and this is Faith.  You guys looking for fun tonight?"
"We're having fun."
"You're so funny!  What are your names."
"My name is Jaimie, this is my brother Tyrion."
Buddy interjects - "Why do I have to be Tyrion?"
"You guys don't look like brothers."
"OK, you're right.  We're lovers.  We're gay."
"You're gay?"
"Yes, we like to fuck each other."
"So you don't like girls?"
"Nope."
"Well have fun."  (They chatter in Spanish about how we're gay and leave us alone)

You'd think that the other girls would notice that the girls that were approaching us were routinely getting shot down.  Denied.  Or that they'd share information that we weren't truly johns and were just a waste of time.  But much like the male ego, my guess is that each girl thought she'd have a better pitch, be more attractive, or know exactly what to say to hook us.  So the parade of approaches continued.

After a couple hours of this, we had received enough ego boosting.  We were clearly the main target in the entire place and almost every girl had their shot at us.  We even made a couple of friends, girls that would come back over and check on us.  Make jokes with us.  Remind us what we were missing out on.  Some came to thank us for letting them down gently by saying we were gay even though they knew we weren't.  It was sweet, if prostitutes could be sweet.

When we left we got waves goodbye and blown kisses our way.  We broke hearts that night.  I'm sure of it.  And by breaking hearts, I mean some poor girls had to go have sex for money with really really old guys.  Instead of having sex for money with not so old guys.

However, the experience left us changed men.  We both commented that now we knew what it must be like to be a female at a crowded bar.  The cheesy lines, the feigned interest in what we had to say, and ultimately the straight forward proposal after all else failed.

Whereas before I used roll my eyes as girls griped about the attention they received, I now understand it.  And I now salute you for dealing with it on a constant basis.  I can only imagine how annoying that shit would be if I had to deal with it all the time.

Allow me to say thank you girls.  Thank you for putting up with all our guy shit.  I now realize how annoying we all can be.

My name is Macster and I approve this message.