It’s Hash Monday, and I’m just back from marking the trail with my fellow Hares, Pubic Head, and 18-Kilo Ass. We did a last-minute change-up, deciding the long highway walk was unwarranted given the sunny weather. We kept it mostly in the dirt and added a second climb, but it is still only around 5K. It may not be the best trail ever, but it is for sure the best one this week!
I decided it had been too long since I had a tasty steak, so I headed out to John’s place to start my Sunday night out. In an odd coincidence, as I am walking along the highway, a car pulls over; the back seat passenger rolls down her window and asks me if I know how to get to John’s Sushi and Steak. From where I stood, it was just a couple of blocks away, so I provided directions and continued to my destination. They arrived shortly after I did, and we had a pleasant meet-and-greet conversation in the restaurant. An American, his Filipina wife, and what I presume was their teenage daughter. Good times!
I also ordered take-out bulgogi and Korean-style chicken wings for Joy and her co-workers at Hideaway bar. Stayed there for a couple of drinks, then moved on to Cheap Charlies.
Rose, the birthday girl, wasn’t working, and Marilou was. By working, I mean being wrapped up in the arms of another customer. You know, I’ve been around the bar scene a long time, and I understand perfectly well how the game is played. It is only when fools like me think they are something special to a bargirl that disappointment sets in. Don’t get me wrong, Marilou was just doing her job, and she is damn good at it. She almost had me believing she was “different.” Silly me. Anyway, her public display of affection with that guy was a stark reminder that a woman like her is not girlfriend material. As the saying goes: “you can take the girl out of the bar, but you can’t take the bar out of the girl.”
As I sat there contemplating that kick in the nuts, I got a message from my “friends” at Snackbar/Kamto (the girls work at both venues, depending on where they are needed) asking me to join them. Well, an invite is always nicer than just dropping in and seeing what I saw with Marilou, so I figured, why not? And it was pleasant enough hanging with the gals and being flirty. Of course, knowing it was the drink commissions they love and not me was fresh in mind.
Oh well, it’s all part of the game, and I’ve chosen to play along. No point in complaining about it; I just need to maintain my awareness level and not start believing the fantasies are real.
[Reposting comment without stupid typo.]
In the science of attraction, people talk about oxytocin (ox-ee-TOH-sin), also called “the love hormone,” which your body puts out in moments of physical closeness or intimacy. Why do so many Hollywood stars play romantic roles and end up hooking up in real life? Oxytocin. The chemical is probably responsible for loving (or at least lustful) pair-bonding as well as for the devotion that links parents and children.
A lot of what we feel is chemical. Merely looking at an alluring photo can be enough to summon the oxytocin and make you think the woman on the screen or page could be your girlfriend.
As for the “walking ATM” photo… that about sums up the depth of these relationships. You’re good only as long as you’ve got the money. But if shallow, money-driven relationships make you happy, then go be happy!
Interesting stuff. As I was reading your comment about the effects of oxytocin, an old song by Huey Lewis, “I want a new drug,” was playing in my head. Then I went and did a quick Wiki read to learn more. I discovered there is a song called “Oxytocin” by Billie Eilish–I’ve never heard of either, but apparently, she’s a famous recording star. A hottie, for sure; watching the video may have triggered a burst of oxytocin in my system.
Anyway, like everywhere, the range of relationships here runs the spectrum of oxytocin-fueled “love.” The shallow bargirl type might be the most prevalent in my little town, but the real thing–or at least ones not about the money–are out there.
Having said that, there may be some benefits to staying in the shallow end of the oxytocin pool. A popular saying amongst the whoremongers is: “I don’t pay the girls for sex; I pay them to leave in the morning.” That’s not where I’m at, but I can appreciate the sentiment.