by gooseandsoda

This city is officially too small for me.  You know how I know this?  I’ve begun turning guys who are each other’s bros into actual brothers…. of the Eskimo variety.


“Tell us, how big of a whore was she, Brother?”

I went to a music festival (no, not THAT one) with a good friend of mine.  He works in the beer industry, and had given out a bunch of free tickets to anyone who asked him for one.  While we were at the festival, we met up with my friend’s other friend, who had also invited his own group of friends.  Are you following this?  To put it in more simple terms, I was there with my friend and a bunch of semi-strangers who equate to a 4th degree of separation.

One of the strangers happened to be extremely handsome, although far from my usual type.  He was bearded and heavily tatted and real hipster, and I thought he hailed from Portland, OR (my hometown) because I overheard him saying he had just flown in from there.  I also assumed he had a girlfriend, since the group included a girl who was real hipster gorgeous, and in my mind, I guess I just paired them up.  He also assumed my friend was my boyfriend, because we were there together.  Many hours and drinks later, we cleared up all these misconceptions and confessed that we were attracted to each other (and he was not from Portland, had just visited).

He took my number, and then blew me up for almost 3 weeks straight, while I blew him off, because I’m a huge bitch and also, oh yeah, men are dogs. Eventually I caved to his incessant pursuit, because I’m also a narcissist and loved the attention.  We agreed to a time/date to wet our beaks and discuss life and the universe together.

I got to the bar first and snagged a couple seats.  Hipster Date showed up looking all kinds of good, and sober me thought, “Oh yeah, duh, totally forgot how hot I thought he was when I met him.”  We had a couple drinks and the conversation was really flowing easily.  I was astonished to find myself enjoying his company!  Then we started to recount the events of our initial meeting, and that was the beginning of the end.

Hipster Date (HD): So funny how randomly we met.

Me: Oh I know!  How do you know that Graham guy anyway?

HD: We used to bartend together at XYZ bar.

Me (internally) Hmmmmmm….why do I know that bar….oh RIGHT, Soda Pop was a bartender there too! (Soda Pop is a guy waaaaay too young for me that I met in a different bar, and then casually hooked up with for a few months) Hey, I wonder if he knows…. 

…Me (before I can shut my damned stupid cakehole): Do you know Pat?

HD: Oh yeah!  He’s one of my good friends….how do you know Pat?


Me: Oh uhh I met him and his friend Jen in a bar one night!  Haha! Small world! WOW this drink is DELICIOUS, I’ll go get us another one!

Oh, but it doesn’t end there.  Hipster Date drops the subject of Pat, aka “Soda Pop” and I end up picking a second bar for us to bounce to.  On our way out of the second bar, Hipster Date is walking behind me, and I hear him yell out, “Oh, hey!  Pat!” I really hope that someone caught my face on the security cameras at that exact moment because I’m sure my face was some combination of uncontrollable rage, total humiliation, utter despair, repressed maniacal laughter and complete incredulity/disbelief that this is my life.

Suffice it to say, Hipster Date pretty much dropped off the face of the planet after that first date….annnnnd then re-surfaced a month later, because it wouldn’t be a good Whore’s Tale if it didn’t end with me continuing to turn all the heterosexual men of Chicago into Eskimo brothers.  POW POW I’m comin’ for ya, bruh.