Drink Like a Man

Six of us went to eat dinner this past weekend. Because of the long wait, the male portion of our party proceeded to the bar while we waited. You know, like real men. While about a dozen single guys swigged their beer, all three of us ordered mixed drinks and sipped slowly. When asked by our female bartender if we wanted another round, we passed. Then a male bartender came to us. Now by no means is he a burly, masculine guy, but he still worked his perky charm. Three men with mostly empty glasses? Of course we'd want another round! Feeling slightly pressured (who am I kidding?), we obliged. Shea ordered a fruity drink he saw someone else order that might stereotypically be considered "girly." The bartender shook his head and said, "No you don't want that." Alas, Shea did want that, so he tried asking again. Still shaking his head, the bartender said, "At least make it a double, that drink is weak. I'll hook you up," he promised. When I requested a refill of my rum and coke, he said, "Just a Bacardi?" in a condescending way. "How about a 151?" "A 151," I repeated not wanting to disappoint. I can't stand 151, it's pointlessly strong. I shotted it once and vowed to never again. There's no reason to drink something so strong -- unless your masculinity is being challenged, a concept that doesn't generally bother me until I've been drinking apparently. I strive to use gender neutral pronouns for crying out loud. When the bill came, Shea found he had been billed for a double, making his promised "hook up" nonexistent. I also found that my decision for a 151 upgrade was a pricey one, too. I thought bros looked out for each other. Nevertheless, that same upgrade got pretty drunk and facilitated some pretty wild dinner conversation. At one point, I slapped Jessica. Ah, there's nothing like hitting a woman in order to feel like a big man.

Fuck gender roles, by the way. I don't want to play anymore.