Saturday, June 23, 2007
The bar games people play
Been a long time since I went to a bar right after work on a Friday -- I mean one less than perfectly civilized. The martini bar here in town I hit sometimes is actually the lounge of one of the finest and most expensive steak houses in the metro area. Very calm and refined.
But yesterday, I left work at about 6:15 p.m. and went to a Cajun seafood restaurant that has just moved into a new building since its original place got gobbled up by one of Oklahoma City's big-ass natural gas companies. The company has so much money it just literally is buying anything it wants that gets in its way -- including longstanding and cozy Cajun joints.
The new place is OK. But it's like any other new place. No character. No coziness. Blah. The food seemed just OK, too, not its usual very good to great, maybe just because the atmosphere is different.
Since it was just me, I sat at the bar, next to a big ol' honkin' black gal who'd just moved to the city from southwest Oklahoma and who I'll best just got a divorce. She and a girlfriend of color who looked to have some Indian in her were holdin' forth and hollerin' and whoopin' and havin' a good old time, flirting shamelessly with two much younger black guys down the bar. I'd say the women were in their mid-50s.
To my right was a tall white guy who was gulping beer. Seemed like just a regular white guy to me. Blonde. Short hair. Glasses. He was with two other seemingly regular guys. He said me, "Hey, can you believe there is not a huge flat-screen TV right there?" pointing to a space in the middle of the wall behind the bar, where some kind of big abstract art piece was hanging.
There already were two big TV's back there, on each end of the bar, just not right smack in front of where he and I were sitting. I stunned him when I said, "Dude, I could not care less whether there was not a TV in the world, let alone right there, right now. The biggest fights my wife and I have ever had had to do with a TV." He looked at me like I was a space alien. All he could sputter was "S-s-sports!" He resumed his beer gulping.
I'm not sure whether I actually saw what happened next, but I'm pretty sure I did -- but I wasn't really paying that much attention at first. One of the guys with the TV guy, a kind of dark-skinned (Chickasaw-type) late-50-something metrosexual, small of build, open of collar, previously seemed to have a geographically and ethnically obscure, plain old American accent (I know, it's dialect).
But suddenly I realized he was to my left, two women down, chatting one up -- and I swear he suddenly had this North African-Moroccan accent thing going on, or maybe a French-Belgian thing, but it was so over-the-top I thought of Pepe le Pew. But the gal was buyin' it. I chuckled and sipped my Beefeater martini.
Food came. Catfish. Hushpuppies. Fries. Cole slaw. Red Stripe. I ate fast cause I was starved, vaguely aware that around me people were getting louder and the bar and restaurant were getting crowded. I glanced at the entry and saw people waiting for seats for the restaurant as well as the bar, so I decided to pay and leave.
Before I could, though, the TV guy to my right proved that he had drunk past his inhibitions. His everyday-guy voice had turned as lispy as any gay caricature. He was gushing and touching everyone around him -- you know, the hand on shoulder, or arm, light touch kind of thing.
He jumped up and flew around me to the gal to my left, and hugged her. Full-body hug. Think Pepe le Pew again. He was babbling. Just a happy-go-lucky-sloppy gay drunk. He went to the next woman, and full-body hugged her.
One of his two friends to my right said something that indicated they knew he was gone and it was time take him home. They walked behind me and pried him loose from somebody else he was hugging.
They started hustling him out, and as they glided behind me, I felt a slight tweak on each hip, just above my belt line.
I'd been lightly frotteurized!
I blew Red Stripe through my nose, laughing. The gal to me left said to me, “I think he’s gay.” I said, “YA THINK?” I guess she’d seen what he did as he passed.
She asked me if I was mad. And I laughed again and said, “Look, this is a conservative city in a red state. He probably keeps himself under wraps most of the time in self-defense. He got loaded and out he came.”
Earlier, she’d said, laughing, that she hated men. Then, misty-eyed, she said something about me being a rare reasonable man. Oh Lord, I thought, everybody in here is getting drunk but me.
I looked to my right and the three were leaving, the gay guy with his arms in the air, blowing goodbye kisses to everyone he could see, dancing along as his friends hustled him along out the door.
Not kidding. I wasn’t offended, although it was an unusual set of circumstances, all around. If he’d walked up and kissed me on the mouth, I might’ve kicked his ass right there on the spot. But if he’d hugged me like he did everyone else, I’d probably have scrunched up and pushed him off the way my cat, Ice-T, does me when I scoop him up unexpectedly to mess with his mind -- and the way the girl kitty does when Pepe le Pew puts his moves on her. And if he’d have touched my privates, one of us might be hospitalized right now.
Or maybe not. Back in the day, when I worked at a small-town radio station, friends of mine would come and hang out with me when I worked alone in the middle of the night. One night, one of ‘em reached out, as I was talking on air, and put his hand on my thigh, right up against my crotch. We’d always suspected he was gay, but it had never been a problem.
I podded down the mic, turned and said to him, “I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch.” I meant it, or thought I did. We never spoke again. I could have handled it better, and I wish I had. I think I probably would now. In fact, maybe I did, last night.
On the other hand, technically, I guess I was assaulted. Barely. But, no harm, no foul. What do y'all think?
--ER
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I am a terrible flirt, and probably would have been in a whole lot of trouble in a scene like that. I just can't resist it. I would have chatted up the women needlessly, ring or no ring.
As to the whole gay-guy-pinching-your-butt, consider it a compliment. In seminary, a student who was an acquaintance of mine was convinced I was gay, and put serious moves on me one night. I let him down firmly but gently - and got smeared as a closet queen for a while. Ah, well. I was flattered that he was attracted to me, although we rarely did more than hay hello to one another in passing, or chuckle at the inanities of our more conservative classmates.
I forgot to mention, a long time ago, when I told you about Vine DeLoria and his book . . . And Custer Died for Your Sins. Along with being an ordained ELCA pastor, DeLoria was an Okia, taught at either the University or Oklahoma State. He passed away a few years back. He got his big break, intellectually, when he wrote a book in the early seventies called God is Red. He was also an expert witness at Leonard Peltier's trial, and an adviser to the American Indian Movement, whose goals he thought worthy, but whose methods, including storming the BIA offices in Washington, he disapproved of. I thought you might like it that he, like you, was a Sooner, although he was sooner than you, if you get my meaning.
As to the whole gay-guy-pinching-your-butt, consider it a compliment. In seminary, a student who was an acquaintance of mine was convinced I was gay, and put serious moves on me one night. I let him down firmly but gently - and got smeared as a closet queen for a while. Ah, well. I was flattered that he was attracted to me, although we rarely did more than hay hello to one another in passing, or chuckle at the inanities of our more conservative classmates.
I forgot to mention, a long time ago, when I told you about Vine DeLoria and his book . . . And Custer Died for Your Sins. Along with being an ordained ELCA pastor, DeLoria was an Okia, taught at either the University or Oklahoma State. He passed away a few years back. He got his big break, intellectually, when he wrote a book in the early seventies called God is Red. He was also an expert witness at Leonard Peltier's trial, and an adviser to the American Indian Movement, whose goals he thought worthy, but whose methods, including storming the BIA offices in Washington, he disapproved of. I thought you might like it that he, like you, was a Sooner, although he was sooner than you, if you get my meaning.
This is a much more interesting happenstance than one I recall down-bar from a certain methed up, wronged by his government at every turn, small-town fella' drinkin' beer at an otherwise finer OKC establishment one recent, lonely Thursday night.
'Probably a good thing you weren't there sucking on a giant 7x52 moduro with your Red Stripe . You'd have definitely ended up with at least a kiss...
'Probably a good thing you weren't there sucking on a giant 7x52 moduro with your Red Stripe . You'd have definitely ended up with at least a kiss...
# posted by 
: 2:43 PM
: 2:43 PM
Let's alter the scenario a bit!
The setup: I'm a gay man; I've never in my life looked with lust upon a female. I'm in a bar, populated by a normal cross-section of bar folk... a girl, trashed, is heading out the door in the care of her friends. Our story, modified as to the assailant's gender, continues:
"They started hustling her out, and as they glided behind me, I felt a slight tweak on each hip, just above my belt line.
"I'd been lightly frotteurized!
[...]
"If she’d walked up and kissed me on the mouth, I might’ve kicked her ass right there on the spot. But if she’d hugged me like she did everyone else, I’d probably have scrunched up and pushed her off the way my cat, Ice-T, does me [...] And if she’d have touched my privates, one of us might be hospitalized right now.
[...]
"One night, one of ‘em reached out, as I was talking on air, and put her hand on my thigh, right up against my crotch. [...]
"I podded down the mic, turned and said to her, 'I’ll kill you, you bitch.' I meant it, or thought I did.
"[...] technically, I guess I was assaulted. Barely. But, no harm, no foul."
Would I, gay man that I am, be out of line to speak and feel so toward these women?
I say, Yes! Discomfiture I call a normal response to such intimate contact from someone not my intimate partner; a killing rage, though? Out of proportion and out of line.
ER, I'm glad you did better this time 'round....
The setup: I'm a gay man; I've never in my life looked with lust upon a female. I'm in a bar, populated by a normal cross-section of bar folk... a girl, trashed, is heading out the door in the care of her friends. Our story, modified as to the assailant's gender, continues:
"They started hustling her out, and as they glided behind me, I felt a slight tweak on each hip, just above my belt line.
"I'd been lightly frotteurized!
[...]
"If she’d walked up and kissed me on the mouth, I might’ve kicked her ass right there on the spot. But if she’d hugged me like she did everyone else, I’d probably have scrunched up and pushed her off the way my cat, Ice-T, does me [...] And if she’d have touched my privates, one of us might be hospitalized right now.
[...]
"One night, one of ‘em reached out, as I was talking on air, and put her hand on my thigh, right up against my crotch. [...]
"I podded down the mic, turned and said to her, 'I’ll kill you, you bitch.' I meant it, or thought I did.
"[...] technically, I guess I was assaulted. Barely. But, no harm, no foul."
Would I, gay man that I am, be out of line to speak and feel so toward these women?
I say, Yes! Discomfiture I call a normal response to such intimate contact from someone not my intimate partner; a killing rage, though? Out of proportion and out of line.
ER, I'm glad you did better this time 'round....
# posted by : 5:40 PM
: 5:40 PM
THat's kind of what I thought, Scott. He crossed a line, although just barely. Byut he was drunk, and I, back in my youth, did far worse line crossing with girls, when I was loaded.
Sharp: LOL! That guy was just ... I don't know what! Potentially dangerous, I thought!
Sharp: LOL! That guy was just ... I don't know what! Potentially dangerous, I thought!
Oh, Geoffrey: I observed a personal moment of silence when Vine Deloria passed.
And one of these days, I will splain to you why callin' me a sooner is like callin' me a yankee, although I know the dictionary declares that all residents of Oklahoma are "sooners," just like some people in the world consider all Americans yanks. Gah. And gah, again.
But I'll let it slide for now. :-)
And one of these days, I will splain to you why callin' me a sooner is like callin' me a yankee, although I know the dictionary declares that all residents of Oklahoma are "sooners," just like some people in the world consider all Americans yanks. Gah. And gah, again.
But I'll let it slide for now. :-)
So, Okies aren't Sooners? Are Sooners Okies?
All kidding aside, sorry if that was a slight, or even a great. Me, I'm happy to be a Yankee, but should one consider such epithets as insults, I will retract my comment. I shall rephrase:
DeLoria was a resident of the State of Oklahoma.
All kidding aside, sorry if that was a slight, or even a great. Me, I'm happy to be a Yankee, but should one consider such epithets as insults, I will retract my comment. I shall rephrase:
DeLoria was a resident of the State of Oklahoma.
I have found that regardless of the sex of the one making the advance that removing their hand and softly saying "I am spoken for." Causes the activity to cease amicably without hurting anyone. Now admittedly, it has been decades since anyone has made a pass at me, but it has happened from both sides of the spectrum. It is flattering, if somewhat disconcerting.
Now getting my butt pinched,early in my life, would have gotten anyone of either sex a elbow in the teeth. Not that I might not of liked it in the abstract, but it would have been reacted to as an attack. These days if it happened, I probably would have the same reaction but more probably would simply pull my back out because I jerked around too fast. Not to mention that my reaction time would probably allow the offender to already be out the door and in the parking lot. Alas, life takes its toll.
"Sooner" to an "Okie" means two things.
1: Those guys who crossed the line secretly and hid out in the bushes waiting for the land runs to start so that they could jump out and get the best parcels of land before the one's making the run legitimately got there. It is akin to "claim jumper" in the gold fields.
I have always contended that the Okies that sponsored the "Sooner" nickname were the illegitimate bastards of the c... s.....s that were sooners, and did so to legitimize their theiving fathers and grandfathers.
2. It is the nickname of the OU football team. Most of whom are from Texas anyway. We have 29 higher education institutions in Oklahoma, but OU would have you believe they are the only one. With each passing year my disgust with OU grows and grows and I was once a student there. But mark that I do not claim to be an alumn.
Now ole ER has a extra beef in that he leans towards the OSU teams and identification and thus OU is an annathema to his sensibilities such as they may be.
Now getting my butt pinched,early in my life, would have gotten anyone of either sex a elbow in the teeth. Not that I might not of liked it in the abstract, but it would have been reacted to as an attack. These days if it happened, I probably would have the same reaction but more probably would simply pull my back out because I jerked around too fast. Not to mention that my reaction time would probably allow the offender to already be out the door and in the parking lot. Alas, life takes its toll.
"Sooner" to an "Okie" means two things.
1: Those guys who crossed the line secretly and hid out in the bushes waiting for the land runs to start so that they could jump out and get the best parcels of land before the one's making the run legitimately got there. It is akin to "claim jumper" in the gold fields.
I have always contended that the Okies that sponsored the "Sooner" nickname were the illegitimate bastards of the c... s.....s that were sooners, and did so to legitimize their theiving fathers and grandfathers.
2. It is the nickname of the OU football team. Most of whom are from Texas anyway. We have 29 higher education institutions in Oklahoma, but OU would have you believe they are the only one. With each passing year my disgust with OU grows and grows and I was once a student there. But mark that I do not claim to be an alumn.
Now ole ER has a extra beef in that he leans towards the OSU teams and identification and thus OU is an annathema to his sensibilities such as they may be.
By the way, sorry to hear that that cajun place was defiled. I was there a few months ago and I'm sorry it has been moved and is so different now. Sometimes you just can't get the "giest" to move with the business.
But there is still the one down on Reno and the one South of the river on Meridian. I prefer the one South of the river, nothing over $7 and it has real Iver's Clam Chowder (Ivers as in Seattle).
The only place outside of an Ivers that is allowed to serve it except the old cajun place you mentioned. Damn good stuff, and the burbon laced bread pudding and fried peaches are worth killing for.
But there is still the one down on Reno and the one South of the river on Meridian. I prefer the one South of the river, nothing over $7 and it has real Iver's Clam Chowder (Ivers as in Seattle).
The only place outside of an Ivers that is allowed to serve it except the old cajun place you mentioned. Damn good stuff, and the burbon laced bread pudding and fried peaches are worth killing for.
Drlobojo, I am again in your debt. I did not know where the whole "Sooner" nickname came from, and it is a bit of a smear against those living in Oklahoma.
I grew up in New York and live in Illinois, two states for which there are no real bad, short-hand epithets (unless one considers damnyankee). I think many such designations are made by people who live outside the state as a way of insulting those who do so live. The only one in the old northeast I can think of is to call some one a resident of New Jersey.
Up here in the old northwest, Wisconsin residents suffer the double dishonor of coming from the Badger State (who would want to have an overgrown rat with a temper problem as the state emblem?) and one of the biggest dairy producers in the country. Thus, they are also, of course, "Cheeseheads". That much of the rural part of the state has "rednecky" tendencies - and not necessarily the good kind - doesn't help.
In the future I shall refrain from using shorthand epithets at all. This is the best way to avoid insult and hurt feelings. Ignorance is not bliss, it is just ignorance. To all and sundry, I apologize.
I grew up in New York and live in Illinois, two states for which there are no real bad, short-hand epithets (unless one considers damnyankee). I think many such designations are made by people who live outside the state as a way of insulting those who do so live. The only one in the old northeast I can think of is to call some one a resident of New Jersey.
Up here in the old northwest, Wisconsin residents suffer the double dishonor of coming from the Badger State (who would want to have an overgrown rat with a temper problem as the state emblem?) and one of the biggest dairy producers in the country. Thus, they are also, of course, "Cheeseheads". That much of the rural part of the state has "rednecky" tendencies - and not necessarily the good kind - doesn't help.
In the future I shall refrain from using shorthand epithets at all. This is the best way to avoid insult and hurt feelings. Ignorance is not bliss, it is just ignorance. To all and sundry, I apologize.
Dude, it's not an epithet. "Sooner" IS the official nickname of the state, and "Sooner" IS the accepted nickname for residents of Oklahoma.
I don't dislike it because of its meaning in history -- those who snuck into the state before the legal openings.
I don't like it because "Sooner" also is the nickname-mascot of the University of Oklahoma sports teams -- and Sooner fans are the most arrogant assholes in sportsdom. Especially to those of us who went to and love the land-grant school here, Oklahoma State University. In my worst moments, I say OU could burn to the ground and I'd drive down to Norman and pour salt on the ground so nothing could grow there again.
Some people scoff at sports rivalries. Well, the OU-OSU thing in Oklahoma, as far as I'm concerned, is more than a sports rivalry: It's the kind of thing wars spring from. I ytuly do cheer for loudest for two teams: OSU and whoever is playing OU. I promise it's not jealousy; it's from a lifetime of OU supporters being such jerks.
I don't dislike it because of its meaning in history -- those who snuck into the state before the legal openings.
I don't like it because "Sooner" also is the nickname-mascot of the University of Oklahoma sports teams -- and Sooner fans are the most arrogant assholes in sportsdom. Especially to those of us who went to and love the land-grant school here, Oklahoma State University. In my worst moments, I say OU could burn to the ground and I'd drive down to Norman and pour salt on the ground so nothing could grow there again.
Some people scoff at sports rivalries. Well, the OU-OSU thing in Oklahoma, as far as I'm concerned, is more than a sports rivalry: It's the kind of thing wars spring from. I ytuly do cheer for loudest for two teams: OSU and whoever is playing OU. I promise it's not jealousy; it's from a lifetime of OU supporters being such jerks.
You know, ER, you need to kind of, I don't know, let it all out a little bit more. Stop holding back. I mean, just vent how you really feel about those people from that other college up there in Norman. . .
Every time I come here now, I blush with embarrassment because I feel like I've hurt feelings, so may we move on, please? What did the women look like at the end of the bar, and was it a brush or more like a punch when the guy grabbed you?
Every time I come here now, I blush with embarrassment because I feel like I've hurt feelings, so may we move on, please? What did the women look like at the end of the bar, and was it a brush or more like a punch when the guy grabbed you?
A squeeze. The guy squeezed my haunches.
Looks: I'm 43. In a bar, women's looks are 1. amazing, computer-generated beauty; and 2. That'll do.
;-) Beauty has to do with what's inside, and you can't find that out in a bar.
On the Sooner thing: Don't sweat it. You think the Rebel battle flag should be forever put away, too, but our friendship transcends that -- so anything is possible. :-)
Looks: I'm 43. In a bar, women's looks are 1. amazing, computer-generated beauty; and 2. That'll do.
;-) Beauty has to do with what's inside, and you can't find that out in a bar.
On the Sooner thing: Don't sweat it. You think the Rebel battle flag should be forever put away, too, but our friendship transcends that -- so anything is possible. :-)
I think the rebel flag should forever be put away, too, but that's after bein' around you for a few years. :-)
I'm thinking you should get the name of a good attorney who's won some sexual harassment suits lately.
GKS, I wouldn't worry too much about hurting the feeling on this site. I also think the Confederate flag belongs in museums or in flag collections only. Ran across a propane company in far North-West Texas that was flying the Confederate battle flag out front and nothing else. Wonder why? what do you think they were saying to the public?
I think the battle flag is like the swastika, in that it has now been hyjacked. The swastika was design that transcended time and space and always ment something good. It was the thunderbird to some American tribes, it was the symbol for the continuity of life to the Hebrews and Hindus. Now look at it.
I think the battle flag is like the swastika, in that it has now been hyjacked. The swastika was design that transcended time and space and always ment something good. It was the thunderbird to some American tribes, it was the symbol for the continuity of life to the Hebrews and Hindus. Now look at it.
Thanks, doc. Seriously. I accept that there are those who would like to reappropriate the Stars & Bars, but I think that only works if the Klan ceases to exist. Plus the fact that I'm a Damnyankee doesn't help my point of view.
I doubt I would have responded any differently. But imagine the lasting impact once his friends explain to him the next day how his lip got split. How many asses would he pinch from that point on? A hate crime, or a lesson taught and, hopefully, learned?
ER said: "Well, the OU-OSU thing in Oklahoma, as far as I'm concerned, is more than a sports rivalry: It's the kind of thing wars spring from." The OU-OSU thing is bad, but the general Oklahoma-Texas (other than sports)thing is worse. Hell, we even came to a gun totten show down in 1931 with Texas.
http://www.lakecountrysun.com/news/get-news.asp?id=5120&catid=5&cpg=get-news.asp
In the end Oklahoma won big time in that the SCOTUS eventually awarded the Red River and the fartherest South it (ever) runs to Oklahoma. Too bad those high cut banks on the South side of our river keep it from going too deep into Texas.
http://www.lakecountrysun.com/news/get-news.asp?id=5120&catid=5&cpg=get-news.asp
In the end Oklahoma won big time in that the SCOTUS eventually awarded the Red River and the fartherest South it (ever) runs to Oklahoma. Too bad those high cut banks on the South side of our river keep it from going too deep into Texas.
Not to be this way, but...
Wasn't 'frottage' the word you wanted there?
And it's Ivar's with an 'a'.
Okay, now would we call that one 'assault' except in the most broad of legal definitions? Hell no. You were in no danger of any sort, and like you say, don't we all get a little sloppy and touchy when we drink?
(Well, the ones who don't get shouty and fighty, I guess.)
On the other hand, M. Law sort of had a point...Kinda, about people getting an object lesson as regards their actions having consequences.
Wasn't 'frottage' the word you wanted there?
And it's Ivar's with an 'a'.
Okay, now would we call that one 'assault' except in the most broad of legal definitions? Hell no. You were in no danger of any sort, and like you say, don't we all get a little sloppy and touchy when we drink?
(Well, the ones who don't get shouty and fighty, I guess.)
On the other hand, M. Law sort of had a point...Kinda, about people getting an object lesson as regards their actions having consequences.
Hey, Rich.
"In psychiatry, the clinical term frotteurism (no longer called frottage) refers to a specific paraphilia which involves the non-consensual rubbing against or touching another person in order to achieve sexual arousal or even orgasm."
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"In psychiatry, the clinical term frotteurism (no longer called frottage) refers to a specific paraphilia which involves the non-consensual rubbing against or touching another person in order to achieve sexual arousal or even orgasm."
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