Katie, Abby and I go out last Thursday for a series of drinks. Our plan is to go to Rolf’s, the famous German bar/restaurant in Gramercy that’s become as popular a holiday stop as the Rock Center tree. It’s decorated to feel like you’re standing inside a Christmas tree -- wall to wall garland, millions of sparkly lights. Ornaments everywhere. Essentially my wonderland.
Unfortunately Rolf’s is exactly as crowded as the Rock Center tree, so we run across the street to Black Bear Lodge.
Black Bear Lodge is similarly decorated in theme. Different theme. Same intensity. Real log walls, antler chandeliers, taxidermy everywhere, buckets of PBR for rock bottom prices.
- Katie: You know what we’re going to find here…
- Me: Yes.
We walk in to the after party of some Deutche Bank division -- one of the ones where people work “on a desk” as if the rest of us are sitting around on futons or gathered at dining room tables from 9-6. Jack pot.
Abby proceeds to do what any money conscious, un-snooty beer-drinker would: order a bucket of Natty Lights.
We have our moments, but are not by nature girly girls. This shit tastes the same as most other shit in a can – not great. That doesn’t generally matter very much to us on a random Thursday night. We like to think of ourselves as what my good friend Joe would call "broad-hybrids." More on that sometime soon.
The minute our bucket arrives some old-ish banker man throws us a 30 second party. “WHOA! Look. At. This. Look what we have here! These girls ordered Natty Light. Natty LIGHT. These. Are. Women. Would you look over here!” It was embarassing and yet amazing. People looked. We smiled. Boom. Bar fame.
Some time passes. We finish bucket #1 and do what any set of three girls in a room full of drunk bankers would - order another.
Again, our #1 fan screams our praises (literally. screaming.). This time - he takes it one giant step further.
“Look at you three,” he says, “Let’s go find you some boys. Look at this place. There are tons of them.”
This situation is unprecedented. Never before have we met a man who insists on doing our work for us. He knows some people in the room. He has the access. He won't take no for an answer. We weren't saying no anyway.
He walks right up to some tall blue-button-down-and-glasses type and says, "You - look over there. That's what you're missing. If you're as much a man as you seem you'll walk right over there and talk to one of those girls."
Prior to his offer our plan was to stand around smiling and laughing, Natty Light labels prominently faced outward, until we seemed drunk enough to shift into sexy eye mode. So his offer would speed things up considerably.
It bears mentioning here that uncle yenta was gayer than Easter. He spoke of a set of 9- year-old triplets and a wife in Westchester, but when I asked him what he did for a living he lied and said, “I distribute sequins for designer gowns.” That’s a direct quote. Ask Katie.
After making a few too-drunk pitches for our candidacy he decides he and his "friend" have to leave for McSorley's immediately. "You're coming," he says, "there are more of these boys there. Let's go. Come on. Get in a cab. No? Why? Well. Okay. Well see you in 10 minutes then. There. At McSorley's where there are more boys like this." And away he saunters, royal purple cashmere scarf tucked neatly into his Brooks Brothers coat.
He was too drunk to be an effective sales person on our behalves, but the intention was genuine and much appreciated.
This is certainly not the first time someone's offered to set any of the three of us up. But it is the first time someone has offered to do it live, without really knowing us, on account of our choice of beverage.
So with this we've officially added two more "tactics" to the ever growing list of ways to meet men.
Whenever available, order Natural Light - bucket form is best for exposure.
And never underestimate the power of a drunk, friendly older man in a bar setting - especially if he controls the salaries of most of the boys in a room.