You know, guys in Philly have some kind of aversion to buying girls drinks. Now, it could be argued that I hang out in places that aren't conducive to finding the type of guy who'd use this as a viable tactic to win my heart, but you know, it's a gesture that I just don't see very often.
Except for this one guy I met at Silk City. This was at the old Silk City. You know, when it was gritty with cracked pleather stools and grimy, slippery floors.
And, that's where I met this guy, let's call him Medieval Times. Seriously, after years of going almost every weekend, this was the ONLY guy who had ever bought me a drink there. You'd think I'd be pumped, which i kind of was at first. AT FIRST. Until, he decided to make buying me a drink his calling card.
The first time he asked to buy me a drink, I said "a Jack and Coke" with a blush. And, I graciously accepted it. "What a nice gent," I thought. He wasn't totally my type; I don't usually go for blonds and he looked like a squat, chubby Thom Yorke. But, I tried to be open to him. He asked for my phone number, which I gave to him after he promised he'd take me out for dinner and a movie. Sure. I couldn't believe my luck that I finally met a normal dude out at Silk City. Yay for me.
And, he did call, which mildly surprised me. Except, he kept changing the plans up until the last minute of our supposed "date." What started out as us going to a concert in Camden together (he claimed that he had procured free tickets and backstage passes from his cool job) turned into him not having an extra ticket for me so I'd have to pick him up from the venue in Camden. Just to re-iterate, for our first date, he wanted me to pick him up from the concert he re-negged on taking me to. Uh, no thanks. So, out of exasperation, I blew him off. I ain't no cab service. So much for being wined and dined. It felt more like I was being whined and annoyed.
Well, after that, every time I'd run into him at Silk City he would give me an intense stare from across the room that I would feel searing into my brain. He'd then whisper something to the bartend then come over to me and shove a tumbler of Jack and Coke into my hand. He'd bow his head and say, "Your drink, my lady" then immediately leave the premises. It was weird.
And, he kept doing this for THREE YEARS. This went on long after I stopped even drinking Jack Daniels! I would've updated my order but I didn't want to encourage him. What would I say? "Hey dude that I blew off three years ago, stop buying me free drinks because it's creeping me out. And, if you are intent on creeping me out, could it be with a vodka and soda with a twist of lime? That'd be great. K, Thnx."
It's like he wanted me to know that he remembered who I was, what I had done to him, and what I drank. Sure enough, if I saw his piggy face through the smoky haze of the bar, I'd have a free cocktail on my hands. I would try and pawn it off to one of my girlfriends. Sometimes, I'd even just leave it on a table untouched. I didn't want his guilt cocktail.
So, the moral of the story is simple: be careful what you wish for because you just might get it. Or, alternately, sometimes the price of a free cocktail is too high.