Why I Stay Indoors, Reasons 130 and 131: Dogs at Bars and Touchers

26 Aug
Apparently, I’ve begun an infrequent series on my blog called “Why I Stay Indoors”.    The first in the series was about movie theaters, and though it was the first of its kind, I decided to label it Reason #129.  And so we’ll pick up here today with #130.  Because what’s a blog about a hermit without a reminder as to why she’s a hermit once in a while?

 

Last night someone put their arm around me while I was out.

I really hate it when people touch me.  I try to send as many please-don’t-touch-me-ever signals as I can, but sometimes when I’m not focusing hard enough, someone gets through.  I must have just really sucked at it yesterday because I got a hug, a close-talker, and an arm-putter-arounder.

People touching me is big deterrent to my experiencing the world outside the walls of my apartment.  But alas, last night I was forced out into the open and ended up right in the arms of an arm-putter-arounder.

Since Dave’ a musician and all, I tend to find myself in all sorts of strange places.  I usually just take my little pocket journal and try to think really, really hard until a blog post comes out.   Unfortunately, it doesn’t always end in a post.  But it rarely fails to keep people away from me and that’s really the underlying goal.

But last night at this bar, I was filing into the place and waited with Dave until he got a beer before snuggling into the masses.  And while I stood there, unenthused by my surroundings, I noticed a small poodle on the bar stool beside me.   It was well-groomed, uneasy, and wondering why it was in a bar, sitting on a stool.  A gentleman came up beside me, put his arm around me (cringe), and drunkenly stated that it was his dog.  He also said that it was “a princess” and that I “shouldn’t tell the dog he’s a boy because he thinks he’s a girl”.

I suspect that had a lot less to do with what the dog thought of itself and a lot more to do with what the gentleman thought of it.  It was, after all, a dog.  On a bar stool.  Against its own will.

The woman beside him excused herself to go to the restroom and after 60 complete seconds, he asked me where his girlfriend went.  I told him she went to the bathroom and he said she wasn’t really his girlfriend at all.  She was just a friend and he was actually gay.

I told him I figured that.

It was here that it seems I offended him.  He said: “what made you think that?! I’m not that drunk, am I?”

I would argue that if one must check with someone else for a confirmation on their level of drunkenness, they are indeed drunk.  I would also argue that how drunk one is has nothing to do with how gay one is, which is a link that this gentleman apparently just attempted to make.

But he was really in no state for me to point out to him that he had a dog that fit in his man purse and that he exclaimed so to the bar.  Or that the woman he was with didn’t seem at all interested in him and so I assumed they were not together.  Or that he openly stated that his dog is “a princess” when his dog is a boy and really, just an unhappy dog in a seedy bar that can meet none of its dog-like needs.

It can, however, meet its princess-like need to socialize in trendy venues.

Knee-deep in social discomfort, I decided it was time to pinch Dave in the side until he got the memo that I needed an out.  I’ve tried subtle things like ear tugs, winks, hair playing, and hand signs, but when I’m in the throes of close-talkers, arm-putter-arounders and superdrunks, those are a little too subtle for Dave to notice, all things considered.  So now I just cause him physical pain until he relieves me of mine.  I think it’s a pretty good arrangement.

Dave promptly put his arm around me, grabbed his beer, and escorted me to a table where I could write while we listened to the band.  I began to scribble down a few notes about dogs in bars before the lights were all turned off in favor of one lone spotlight on the lead band member and I was left to mull over my distaste for people and public places.

But hey – that will teach me. Going outside one’s home can lead them to unhappy dogs on bar stools, drunk arguments with a very loud gay man, and uncomfortable touching of all kinds.

Stay inside, Jackie.  Just stay inside.  It’s safe there.

Super creepy. Super.

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16 Responses to “Why I Stay Indoors, Reasons 130 and 131: Dogs at Bars and Touchers”

  1. pegoleg August 26, 2011 at 10:21 am #

    When did dogs start being allowed in bars? Not a good fit for man nor beast.

    I didn’t realize you thought of yourself as a hermit, when it sounds like you’re out and about all the time. Maybe you have a hermit preference that you don’t indulge?

    Like

    • Jackie August 26, 2011 at 10:31 am #

      Pittsburgh doesn’t really set the bar high. HA! GET IT!?

      It sounds like I’m out and about all the time because, well, lately I am. It’s the whole reason I started Lollipop Tuesdays – because I was in my apartment all day every day and absolutely hated going out, being with people, and trying new things. Fun fact: when I was young and would get invited to hang out, I would ask my parents to tell me I couldn’t go so I could blame it on their authoritarian parenting instead of my crippling fear.

      I would still rather stay inside, but this year is one of forced growth. Very pleased to see I’m making progress 🙂

      Like

  2. wtfhappenedtomyreallife August 26, 2011 at 10:24 am #

    I am sorry to hear that you were subjected to this but so good to know that even though it makes you uncomfortable, you are able to go out and be around people (even if you dislike them and it.) Proud of you for making that effort so regularly.

    Love and Light,

    Lucky

    Like

    • Jackie August 28, 2011 at 1:14 pm #

      And after I ventured over to your blog, it appears I’m not alone in my anxiety 😉

      Like

  3. jakennicksmomma August 26, 2011 at 11:13 am #

    Ugh! I hate when people take their dogs to places they don’t belong. Out here in San Diego it is rampant! One of the local mall’s even has grassy areas and doggie poo pick up bags. I have dogs, they are my pets. They stay home and do doggie things like lick themselves in the backyard.

    What a great idea with the notebook. I will have to keep that in mind if I ever am forced to venture out…hehe

    Like

    • Jackie August 28, 2011 at 1:11 pm #

      It’s an absolute must – heaven forbid I get an idea at 2pm whilst out and about and come back to my apartment at 10pm only to be void of all thoughts and postless.

      Like

  4. Missjlouise August 26, 2011 at 11:19 am #

    I was carefully drinking my coffee as I read today’s installment and was doing well to be able to laugh and not spill my coffee! But THAT picture has just sent me overboard! I have choked on my cofee burnt my hand and can’t stop giggling!

    Like

    • Jackie August 28, 2011 at 1:10 pm #

      haha I’m so sorry for your spill but so glad I caused it. 😉

      Like

  5. Jules August 26, 2011 at 12:08 pm #

    Just wear a sign around your neck saying “do not touch”… like a museum exhibit. Problem solved. Bwahaha

    Like

    • Jackie August 28, 2011 at 1:10 pm #

      I don’t know what I like more: your funny comments or you following them up with ‘bwahaha’ lol

      Like

  6. thesinglecell August 26, 2011 at 11:23 pm #

    Everything about that excursion was wrong.

    Everything.

    Like

  7. misswhiplash August 27, 2011 at 3:34 am #

    Sorry duckie but I don’t agree with you there..do not stay in doors.Get out and meet people. Actually I felt more sorry for the poor dog who was in a place that he did not like

    Like

  8. veehcirra August 29, 2011 at 1:39 am #

    get out there and meet more crazy people LOL that way you will give more hilarious accounts like these ones, loving the pic 🙂

    Like

    • Jackie September 4, 2011 at 3:25 am #

      ugh I’d rather not but all right 😛

      Like

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