The Evolution of Bar Talk: Midtown Edition

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I like to think of bars as human watering holes.

It’s where we go to drink, where we recklessly seek out mates with the most potential and where we are surrounded by all the other wild humans who inhabit our little corner of the land. It’s quite beautiful, actually.

The bar is the social station of our existence. But like anything in the wild, our social interactions evolve as we begin to make our transformation from innocent cubs to full grown beasts. How we interacted with others as freshmen, for example, is nothing like how we talk with people four months before we’re going to be handed a diploma.

We need to adapt to survive, and in order to survive, you must understand the evolution of bar talk.

Freshman Year

Female: Your options are pretty limited when it comes to bars you can get into and liquor you can get your hands on. The only reason you’re at a bar is because your stomach and liver need a break from all the hunch punch you’ve been consuming these past few months. Plus, if one more pledge spills a beer on you, you’re going to start wearing rain ponchos to parties and no one looks hot in a rain poncho. You’re already pretty drunk from the puddle of vodka that your roommate’s older sister gave you, and you’re hoping something magical happens tonight.

You meet a guy. His name is Mike. You forget what frat he belongs to, but he’s a senior, his major is sports management and he told you he has liquor back at his place. Your friend Tiffany starts puking in the bathroom so you tell Mike you have to go. You give him your number and he tells you he’ll text you in the morning. Something magical did happen.

Male: There are too many females in one room dancing. Your brain is racing. Where do you begin? You’re sober because you didn’t rush a frat, so you head from the bar to the dance floor because all the girls at the bar are getting older guys to buy them drinks. You silently move against a sea of bodies and weigh your options. You find a girl and quietly start dancing behind her hoping that she is too drunk to notice. She starts dancing with you, but then she tells you she needs to use the bathroom and runs out of the bar with her sorority sisters. You should have rushed a frat.

Sophomore Year 

Female: Your roommate’s sister gave you her old ID, so now you have more bar options and endless liquor you can get your hands on. You meet a guy named Steven, he’s a sophomore too. You both talk about how much you’ve grown up since freshman year and pick out all the freshman who are struggling at the bar. In the middle of the conversation, you look over to your right. Tiffany is passed out on the bar. You tell Steven that you have to go and exchange numbers. Steven seems like a really nice guy.

Male: You gave up and rushed a frat. You pre-gamed at the house and you’re drunk. Everything is cool because your older brothers know the bouncer so you can get in with a 21-and-up band. All the girls at the bar look like they have boyfriends. You eye down a freshman girl on the dance floor and tell her you’re a senior and that you have liquor back at the frat house. She slurs out a “yes” and asks if she can bring her friends. Whatever, the more the merrier, right?

Junior Year

Female: You just turned 21 this fall and you’ve basically made college your bitch. You’ve learned the ropes and all the disappointment and lies that go along with college boys. You start talking to a guy at the bar. His name is Mike, he’s a sports management major and he has some liquor back at the crib. You tell Mike to fuck off and go over to dance with Tiffany on the bar’s tables.

Male: You dropped the frat because you no longer needed them for booze and buddies. Now you can be the one at the bar buying all the girls drinks. You meet a girl and buy her a shot. She tells you she needs to go the bathroom and never comes back. You meet another girl and buy her a shot. She tells you that she’s going to another bar. You start talking to another girl and she asks you if you’ll buy her a shot, you look at her, tell her to get a job so she can pay for her own shots and call an Uber home. Is it too late to rush another frat?

Senior Year

Female: You sit at the bar and wonder how much money you owe the government in student loans and how much of that said money went to alcohol as you order another pitcher of beer for yourself. A guy sits down next to you and begins a causal conversation about Gator football. You forget his name. He tells you he will order pizza back at his place. You look over your shoulder and see Tiffany take another shot of tequila and wipe her hands on her beer-stained dress. Whatever, that bitch can Uber home. You take mystery guy’s hand and you two exit the bar. You think “God, I fucking love pizza.”

Male: You spot a girl at the end of the bar with a pitcher of beer. You sit down next to her and start up a conversation. She says she’s a senior, and you exhale a breath of relief while secretly hoping that she doesn’t bring up graduation or what comes after. She doesn’t, so you offer her pizza back at your place. She says yes, takes your hand and leads you out of the bar. Tonight, something magical happened.

Featured photo courtesy of: pixabay

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