1000 Things We Hate #89: Bar Creepers

21 10 2011

Creeper [kreep-ur] -noun. 1. A person or thing that creeps. 2. A domestic fowl having malformed, short legs, due to a genetic defect. 3. An individual who stares, lurks or makes awkward and unwanted advances to undeserving women.

Okay, so upon turning 21, I began to realize the vast amount of older guys who stalk fresh innocent girls in bars. Now, these creepers aren’t attractive, respectable young males, but instead these are the washed up, alcoholic fatties who have hit thirty and realized that their lives are utterly pathetic (but yet still attempt to convince you otherwise). No, these men don’t have the deflated self esteem balloon that they should, but instead strut the length of the bar, taking care to flash you a creepy smile while sipping their bud light each time they pass.

Eventually, the stealthy bastard will realize by your volume levels or perhaps by virtue of their creeper powers, that you’ve become intoxicated. And that’s when they strike. Usually dressed in something ridiculous and straight out of the early 2000’s, the creepy smile getting even wider as you accidentally make eye contact, they approach. At this point, you’re screaming in your head “Get the FUCK away from me you sweaty, disgusting, balding failure” and frantically looking to your friends to see who is willing to hide you, or possibly head butt the fucking shit out of the offending creeper.

Alas, the skeez has reached your table where you’re silently seething and more than a little desperate to escape the unwanted attention, your revulsion heightened when he runs his hand through his thinning hair and droplets of grease hit the floor. A little sick to your stomach, you listen to him brag about anything from his car, his penis, how many models he’s dated, or how much he’s had to drink tonight, meanwhile wishing you could projectile vomit all over his already stained clothes. Of course, all topics of conversation the creeper will engage in are simply desperate attempts to get you to agree to part ways with your seven magic numbers, which, if he obtains, you can sleep easy knowing you will find yourself the victim of at least 12 counts of sexual harassment in the next twelve hours, while you vehemently curse alcohol and that fucking old man who dares to think his wrinkly dick is every going to see the light of day again.

Of course, you know this guy has settled for complete mediocrity, is working some boring job and will go home alone to his filthy apartment, and the closest thing he’s ever had to a model is a cheap stripper. In fact, you can practically smell the stench of failed relationships mixed delicately with desperation, badly covered by cheap cologne and unwarranted cockiness. Most of these guys can be shrugged off with a quick group-trip to the bathroom with your five girlfriends, but if you run into a particularly persistent creeper, one who will not take any of your not-subtle-in-the-slightest hints, you may want to consider a taser.

So fuck you, you filthy jism-rag, you yeasty ass-creviced blight on society, nothing annoys me more than your putrid presence invading my night of fun.

1000 Things We Hate #89: Bar Creepers is a submission from the Guest Post Contest written by Michaela Devine. You can check out her blog over here.
The views expressed by the writers of the Guest Post Contest may or may not reflect the opinions of the managers of MechanisticMoth.

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