So I got spit on.
Yes, it’s come to that here in California. Spitting on harmless human beings.
I guess I should elaborate….
Friday night was a fun one. I had dinner at Citizen Smith, a very cool gothic restaurant on Cahuenga (great for Halloween!). The mac and cheese is to die for. After eating, me and some friends gathered at Lola’s Martini Bar where the apple martini tastes nothing short of rubbing alcohol. I wouldn’t recommend it. From there, I found out that a high school friend was in from Malibu and going to Crown Bar and since we were planning on meeting up with a guy friend there it seemed best that we headed over.
It was about 11:00 when we got to Crown Bar – my high school friend decided to hit up MyHouse so we said a quick hello and goodbye before going into the bar. The DJ was playing great music so of course I was having a great time. I even took a shot which is truly a MONUMENTAL occasion for me because I don’t like to do them and rarely ever do. So we danced the night away until the bar increasingly got more packed and we decided to go to MyHouse which is conveniently a block away from my friend’s apartment, meaning no more cab fare necessary.
However, I must note that there were paparazzi outside when we left the club and I didn’t really think twice about it. Turns out I should have because none other than Justin Timberlake was at the bar from 12:00 am – close, probably entering right when we exited. Seriously, we’re getting closer! When Emily texted me that he was there I was truly disappointed. But whatevs.
So we get to MyHouse and we’re already having a great time because there are around eight of us and the music is awesome. We took about 10 million stupid photos and danced the night away! Enter “Ye Old D-bags.” I just want to clarify for all men that if you are in a club and there is a group of girls (and some guys) dancing together in a circle then it is not necessary nor appropriate to try to dance with these girls. If a girl wants to dance with you, she’ll make it pretty loud and clear.
This one guy grabbed my hand and tried to dance with me. I told him “No thank you” and removed his hand from my side when he grabbed my hand and tried to twirl me around, which spilled a majority of my drink on me. Smooth move, idiot. I told him to please leave me alone and when he wouldn’t let go I dumped the rest of my drink on his head. Problem solved.
You would think that this might deter him from ever wanting to speak to me again. I don’t know if he was just that drunk or completely incompetent but this idiot approached me and the group about four other times. We even had our guy friends tell them to back off.
So it’s closing time. Lights on, music off, time to go. I start to walk to the exit when the d-bags approach yet again. What happened next is somewhat of a blur because I was so infuriated, but here’s basically what happened. One of the guys made another pass at me by grabbing my bum. I was not happy about this. I turned around and told him that he was short, fat and ugly (probably not the nicest thing to say. Lo siento). Then he made another comment and as I turned around he spit in my hair. Now, I can say this: I didn’t feel any saliva. I’m not sure if he just pretended like he was spitting or what. However, the bouncer and four girls behind me saw something, so when I turned around and wanted to slap the guy, the bouncer instead asked me if I wanted to press charges.
I didn’t, however I should have… I mean who gets by with treating someone like that? I mean, granted, I should have said what I said. It was rude and you know what? I can admit that. But spitting on someone is truly a blow to mankind.
One thought on “Diaries of Ye Old D-Bags: Episode 2, "This is NOT flavor of love!"”
I really don't care what you said to him. You wouldn't have had to be that bold and severe if he had listened the first 5 times you and your friends told him nicely to hit the road. So don't apologize for that. He deserved so much more. There's no excuse whatsoever to treat a woman that way. The guy probably abuses women all the time. What a punk.