Inadvertently Single on the Northside

Both the details of being single and living on the Northside are kind of irrelevant to these stories. I just wanted to use that title.
No one has actually inquired if I’m single. In fact, one special gent insisted that I was not single, no matter how vehemently I (or anyone else) denied it, but we’ll get to that later. The fact that it occurs on the northside is also pretty irrelevant, as there tend to be drunk fools almost anywhere.

The only way the title is actually relevant is that all of the words contained within it are factually accurate. I was inadvertently single. I was on the northside.

Drunk fools #1 and #2:
One recent night, two drunk men approached my roommate and me. After some very drunk chatting, the chatter-upper of my roommate reaches across her to grab my left arm upon which I have a tattoo of the moon blowing stars around my arm. He looks at my tattoo, then at me and asks very seriously, “Are you a Vice Lord?”
To which I chuckled, “Do I look like I’m a Vice Lord?”

At this point, I turned to his friend, my chatter-upper, and ask, “Is that a line?…. Is that a good line?”
He just shook his head with that kind of slow-motion headshake that one reserves for the very saddest of sad things.

I don’t know if the headshake was because I’m so not a gangster or if the headshake was because chatter-upper/drunk fool #2  was in the middle of passionately telling me about how a visit to Augie’s ‘would change my life.’
Frankly, I’m more sold by Augie’s  attempts to secure a reality show than drunk fool #2’s pitch.

Drunk fool #3 and his unfortunate big brother:
The bar was pretty empty, so I suspect that drunk fool #3 approached us primarily out of lack of options.

I was able to convince drunk fool #3 to abandon his shitty beer for something slightly more beer-like. Grain Belt, I think. He claimed it tasted like earwax.

I never got a satisfactory answer about why he was so familiar with taste of earwax.

Eventually, my roommate and I got suckered into playing pool. Drunk fool #3 was my partner, and though I had warned him that I suck at pool, we played.

Sure enough, I sucked. But drunk fool #3’s positivity couldn’t be stifled. Every shitty shot earned a high-five and praise.

I give him an “A” for positive bullshit. If we could have won based on that alone, we certainly would have. His big brother and my roommate kicked our asses pretty thoroughly with actual pool talent.

Drunk fool #4:
Ballsy but misguided, drunk fool #4 sat down at the booth with a friend and I, whilst my roomie ran off to sing “Baby Got Back.” Regardless the intensity of denial, he proceeded to insist that my roommate and I were a couple. That was all very entertaining until he looked at the both of us and decided that “she’s the man.”

I’m like, “So let me get this straight: In this hypothetical relationship you’ve concocted for us, you’ve looked at the both of us and decided she’s the butch one?”
To which he replied, “Yes.”

The sad part is that I was genuinely offended by this.
As I stood up to walk away, he says, “I lust you.”

“Huh?” I responded, because not only did he not know how to use the word properly, it’s just how roughly 75% of the conversation had gone.
Then he said louder, “I lust you. Lust. You know this word?”
“Yeah,” I said, “I’m an English teacher. I know words sometimes.”

Anticlimactic end: Then I walked away and went to smoke with my “lesbian lover.”

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