Switch-Hitter

Usually I am not a huge fan of crowds. Even more so when it involves crowds in small spaces. Add in alcohol and I would rather shove matches under my fingernails and pretend I am a human sparkler. Despite this fact, I purchased two tickets to see Shinedown & Saliva at a local bar/restaurant. After a long day of rubbing naked people (as Max likes to call it) the last thing I wanted to do was stand in a crowd and try not to get barfed on or squished. A text from Will changed my mind and I hopped into the shower.

I did my hair but with no more effort that I would for a day of work. The only thing I did differently was put on some eyeliner. Say it with me now folks... oooh! Yeah, that is about as girly as it gets for me. I grabbed my comfortable jeans and threw on a fitted tee that happened to be on top of the pile. With comfort in mind, I reached for the black steel toe boots. Hell if I was going to get my feet stomped and dangit they are comfy.

I grabbed a hoodie and hopped in the truck. Off we went. The evening started off relatively mundane. The opening band was pretty darn good and the place was actually pretty spacious. Way better than I had anticipated. And then the little weasels wanted to get closer to the front. Read: squish your way through a drunk crowd. Uh... yeah. Not my cup o' tea here boys. My "date" (I'm giving you the look JB) was kind enough to hang with me as he is not one for crowds either. And he is a big guy. You generally get left alone when there is a big guy not but a few inches from your side. If he looks disgruntled, that's even better.

And now I must add, the previously mentioned rule only applies to men. When in large crowds, women don't like rubbing against men. Sends the wrong message. So what do they do, they rub against other women. It is FAR easier to move someone of a similar size than it is to move someone twice your size. Read: Bernice gets moved a lot by women who "just want to squeeze through." And trust me, half of the women would have difficulty squeezing into anything smaller than a door frame and yet wrap themselves in the stretchiest, most revealing clothing on the market. (More on that topic in another rant.) The other half look like they have spent this side of 40 getting rode hard and put away wet all while bleaching away any brain cells they may or may not have left. But I digress. The smooshing was too much and I had to draw the line when half a beer found it's way into my back pocket. We retreated to the balcony where there was a bar (for the boys - I had decided not to drink thankyouverymuch) and room to breathe, even if we could only watch the show on the tvs above the bar.

And that's when Max introduced me to her. A little skanky, sweet as can be and smoking three cigarettes to every drink she was consuming. Apparently she and Max go WAY back and dangit if she didn't take an instant liking to me. Yay. She respected my need for the personal bubble for oh, about five seconds. At second six, the grab-ass started. Quite literally. While I am quite fond of my own derriere, I would much prefer it be admired by anyone who feels the need from a distance. Distance is decidedly not part of her vocabulary.

The first time I laughed it off. She was drunk and let's face it, I'm a catch. (Don't worry, I rolled my eyes typing that one.) The second time, I told her I was flattered but I would really appreciate it if she would try to observe some self control. She seemed to get the point. The evening carried on grope free but laden with many a "you are very pretty" and "I really love your eyes". To which I responded with a polite thank you and went about enjoying the show. That is, until she decided I looked a lot like a pole and commenced her attempt at a booty shake. In my direction. My face may or may not have ever achieved such a shade of red. Thankfully the show was over and I was out of there like a bat out of hell. There aren't enough awkward turtles in this world or the next to compensate for that moment. I tried to laugh it off considering her BAL but it was still pretty high on the Ick Scale.

Seriously though, since when is it acceptable for women to blatantly be piggish to women? Would I have been as tolerant if it were a man? I'm guessing not so much. And this bothers me. Was it because I knew I could knock her on her ass if I so chose? Or because I knew absolutely nothing would come of it besides everyone else having a good chuckle at my (and her) expense. Who knows. Either way, I'm not sure if I should be flattered at being seen as a catch through her version of beer goggles or grossed out at the same fact.

What do you think?