First stop: The Cock and Bull. This place is your typical English pub, complete with an old British owner who seems so charming with that little accent but is actually just kind of creepy. Ashley won him over a while back and now he gives her doubles for the price of a regular drink. Maybe a double Long Island was a bit excessive but who am I to judge? Turns out Ashley's eyes were bigger than her liver and ended up giving most of it to me. I know there's some rhyme about liquor and beer that's supposed to help you not feel like death the next day but when you drink the cheapest beer you can find and Long Island Ice Teas, you're going to feel like death no matter what you do. Oh well.
In an effort to sober up a bit, it was off to Bodegon for dancing. I had been to this place before on my first night out with Ashley and it was a bit dicey, what with the random girls taking their shirts off and dancing on the bar while it was on fire, but I'll try anything twice. The music that night was really good (read: American) and the crowd was a bunch of friendly-looking students. Drunk Ashley is a friendly Ashley so we were very quickly integrating into other groups at the bar. Fun times had by all!
And then creepers came out and now, instead of having a nice time, I spent the rest of the evening trying to fight away the sleaziest characters in the place. I don't care if you have a nice place not far from here. I don't want to see it. I don't care that you make a lot of money. I don't need it. I don't care that you have a fancy leather jacket. It looks tacky. You smell like cigarettes and BO and I'm not interested. And P.S. I'm engaged so try your creepy tactics on some other poor girl. Gross.
After about half an hour, just as it was starting to become unbearable, I realized it was getting late anyway and we decided to leave. We went to gather our things but Ashley's phone and tram card were missing. Super not good. After 20 minutes of looking under tables and interrogating all the sketchy guys that had been lurking around us, we had to give up the search. You had already caught the last bus to her place and the trams back in our direction only run until 1:30. There's nothing like losing all your stuff to really ruin a mostly enjoyable evening and I felt bad about the whole situation. She later recovered her tram card from the Cock and Bull but the phone was still MIA after calling it all night and the next day.
I really want to believe that her phone just fell out somewhere, you know, because these things happen when you're drinking, but it is also entirely possible that one of those sketchy guys that was leaning all over her may have lifted it right out of her pocket. Everyone is quick to say, "Well, if you don't want your stuff stolen, don't go out drinking" but why aren't we saying "Don't steal people's stuff"? This victim-perpetrator-blame thing has been getting a lot of press lately and while I wouldn't consider myself a feminist, I really don't think it's too much to ask that if you're a guy and you see a girl in a bar who might be a bit intoxicated, maybe it shouldn't be a green light to go take advantage of her. No, I am not trying to let anyone off the hook here. If you're responsible enough to go out and have a couple of drinks, you should be responsible enough to keep track of your things. But I also don't think it's fair to blame the victim of a theft. They're not the ones breaking laws and violating people...
And even if these guys didn't take her phone, they were still hella sketchy and I just don't understand how they could possibly believe that they're smooth. If I told you I wasn't interested, walked away and told you to leave me alone, why are you still trying to talk to me? I know my French isn't perfect, but typically when someone pushes your face away from theirs, it's a sign that they don't want you to try to kiss them. Just saying! If you are a creeper, please stay home and leave me alone. Thanks!
On a lighter note but definitely in the same vein of this story, this video made me laugh pretty hard.
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