I used to hate when straight guys complained that they could never get a drink at the bar. Sure, they cannot take advantage of ladies’ nights, and unbuttoning the top buttons of their shirts never seems to make the bartenders jump to attention, but can’t they suck it up? Do they have to shave their legs? Pluck their eyebrows? Carry babies for nine months?
Until last night, I felt that I deserved my free drinks. The complaints I’ve heard from my male friends seemed senseless and unwarranted. Then, I went to a mostly male gay bar in London, and my outlook on life changed.
I walked in with my sparkly top and my cheap perfume, ready for a good drink and a good time. As soon as I entered the candlelit pub with its wooden vaulted ceilings and outdoor terrace, a guy said I smelled good. I looked at the shirtless bartenders, and they resembled Abercrombie & Fitch models. One of them could have been a younger Brad Pitt. Things were looking up.
My friends and I wandered over to the bar to order our drinks, but my girl friends and I were surprised. We tried everything. Pushing our boobs onto the bar counter. Waving our dollar bills. Flashing our white American smiles. None of it worked. For the first time in our lives, we were no longer doted upon by the guys behind the counter. We became the ones who complained about slow service, and we understood what it felt like to not be the center of attention. We were not the Angelina Jolie to the bartender Brad Pitt because he preferred the guy next to us in skinny jeans and a tank top.
And yet, for me, that was OK. I had an amazing time. I danced to techno music. I experienced a club and a culture that I had never experienced before. The bartenders may not have been super attentive, but I had more guys hold the door open for me last night than ever before, and I experienced no surprise attacks from the grinders who circulate at the other bars I've been to, convinced that their decision to dance up on you without asking is the greatest gift a woman could possibly receive.
Next time straight guys complain about being invisible at the bar, I’ll understand. I’ll comfort them and tell them that being unnoticed should not ruin their good time.
In between sips of my free drink, I'll smile and promise them a trip to the gay bar, where they can finally have their time in the spotlight, and where I can have another night of fun.
