Still Finessing the Self-Date

The sociology of going to see the Soul Rebels alone:

Do not attempt if you don't have a cell phone on you which you can whip out in moments of severe awkwardness to prove to any who may be watching that you have friends out there ... somewhere.

But even the cellphone can't help you after about an hour.

When you buy your first drink, the bartender assumes you're just throwing down one and waiting for your best freind or lover. When you order drink four, still alone, she gets it. The fifth one is served up with a crushing pity-discount: "This one's half price, honey."

By drink three I figured the white kids on the dance floor were all a little more drunk than I was, and I was bout to show them what's up when I was hampered by the third nut-job psychologist that I've met down here, who introduced himself by saying I look European. He looked like a neo-nazi and tried to slide his arm from my shoulders to somewhere below my waste in one fell swoop.

This was too much for my awkwardness threshold and I threw on my parka to bike home through the rain.

Cry for me.