As promised. Here is the story of the Ear Licker.
In the last post on the men I conflated a few stories. This is just as it happened, albeit not at my current place of employment, but the one before.
He’d heard this was the new cool place in town and worked just down the street so he figured why not stop by for a drink before heading home to Jersey. He called his friend who’d told him about the place and was also going through a divorce, to meet up with him. They used to work together in banking, or a law firm, or doing something where they wear suits everyday and mumble when girls ask what they do, but pay for all the drinks when the tab comes. His friend had been in the night before and we’d met. He was nice enough, with sadness around the eyes but enough sense to drink within his limit and be perfectly polite as I dipped in and out of conversation with him and his friends. I remembered him when he came in, we don’t get a lot of consistent patrons as we are a rather pricy bar- more of a special occasion place, so it’s nice to see a familiar face. He told me his friend was joining him and after 1 beer his friend arrived, late, after being the one to make the invitation.
The friend was nice enough, but then he did that thing that made me know I was in trouble. He extended his hand for my attention, when I came over, he looked me up and down and then said, “What’s your name sweetie?” I know when someone does that that they will be using my name to call me over all night, like they know me, like we are friends, which they will think we are and which we are not. Then he delivered this, “Oh what a pretty name, can I get a Goose and Redbull?” I really tried to be non judgmental about it until he referred to it as “his drink of choice” to his friend and then I really had no option. I’ve been trying to take a less harsh stance on vodka/mixer drinkers these days, but people are not making it easy for me. At least get something interesting with your vodka or drink it neat. But ball shrinking nasty soda that tastes like sophomore year? That is your drink of CHOICE? Deep breaths. I’m off track. Ok, back on.
Homeslice has 2 drinks to every one his friend has. He talks about his kids, who are very cute, I know this because he shows me photos and a video on his phone. Then he goes in about the ex, maybe not his ex, well yes, his ex, who has been driving him crazy, but they might get back together. I want to ask why men put up with crazy women, I want to ask why she keeps coming back to him, but this is not the conversation to have at this time, or with this person. Instead I have it with myself, in my head as I smile and nod. With every drink his ego inflates, his ability to romance women, to provide for his family, to kick ass at his job increases in lore and greatness. It is superbly unappealing. Because I have no interest in this man, my guard is down, I talk frankly, so obviously, as all things go, 3 drinks in he is convinced he could get with me. He could not.
His friend, the guy I’ve seen before is talking quietly to me when he gets the chance, asking about me, talking about his life and work. We discuss restaurants in the area. We talk about New York. It’s nice, it’s respectful, it’s professional. It’s a quiet night and not a lot is going on. Another couple at the end of the bar has been sitting there for 3 hours, staring into one another’s eyes, barely drinking and making out like teenagers in their parents’ borrowed minivan. Unfortunately for us, the are not in that Windstar, they are here, in Tribeca. Needless to say they aren’t very demanding of me, so I have little more to do but to watch what happens next.
This is when the girls come in. They are cute, they are petite. They are normal cute and normal petite. “Can we sit here?” They ask. I tell them of course and by way of explanation they tell me that the bouncer next door told them that they weren’t hot enough to get in. I pour them 2 glasses of prosecco on the house. These are nice girls out for something fun to do, but mostly to talk to one another, catch up, girl time. I’m that girl most of the time. I get it. They look at the couple making out next to them, oblivious in their little bubble of saliva exchange. “That’s awesome,” one girls says. Without speaking I indicate it had been going on for a while. “But really, when’s the last time you’ve just, like, made out, for hours? That would be so cool.” I agree with a smile and a splash more of prosecco before I walk to the other well.
Maybe he was listening, maybe he wasn’t, I’ll never know, but it made for a perfect entry. From the other end of the bar I see our hero approach the two girls. I wasn’t close enough to hear the opening lines, but it must have been halfway decent because the girls made space for him and all four of them got to chatting. He paid for their next round of drinks and got another for himself. His friend opted out, indicating his half full bottle of beer. The threesome got to laughing and joking, arms were thrown about one another and flashes of cell phone light illuminated their faces as contact info was exchanged. He flagged me down for another round but this time the girls looked less jovial, more annoyed, not to him, but in the looks they threw my way. They refused more drinks and he got a bit incensed. “You’re done already? Should we go somewhere else then?” The girls looked at their phones, tightened grips on bags as if trying to leave without actually leaving.
From a safe difference away his friend leaned over to me, “I’ve never seen him like this, it’s like he’s a different person, I’m really sorry.” “No need to apologize to me,” I say back, “I just feel bad for those girls.” “He’s going though a tough time,” he offered as if to absolve his friend. Aren’t we all? And then that is when it happened. I looked over and Mr. Goose and Redbull pulled one of the girls in close to whisper something in her ear. She laughed awkwardly and then he pulled her again and licked her ear. Let me write that for you again, he LICKED HER EAR. She laughed and squirmed and it was evident for all around that she was, unlike make out kids bar right, super grossed out by having someone else’s slobber on her.
So I did what bar tenders need to do sometimes, I looked at him straight in the eye, while still building a drink in a tin, and said “No, you can’t do that at this bar.” “Can’t do what?” He countered. “You can’t lick girls’ ears here, that’s just not ok.” I used the voice I use with my 12 year old brother when I need him to get dressed for bed immediately and he’s all wired on sugar. The voice I use to get the hidden candy bar out from behind his back. The voice that makes him believe that I have more power than him. My brother is 12 and weighs more than me, he is taller too. There is nothing I can do to stop him from doing anything but I’m dreading the day he realizes that. The voice works on my brother and thankfully worked on this guy. He asked to close his tab I handed him his card which I’d already run. He signed it. I thanked him and took it back to my computer.
He walked over to me on his way out the door. He leaned over the bar and called me to him. “I didn’t do anything she didn’t want me to do,” he offered to me. “It doesn’t matter sir, I’m sorry, you can’t behave that way here.” I replied back, shaking a drink and straining it into a coupe. “Stop stop, listen to me Anne,” he used my name, made sure he had my full attention and said, “I wouldn’t do anything with her anyways. Ha! She wishes! She’s ugly.” Did I mention that these girls were adorable? Did I mention that the last bouncer also told them that they weren’t cute are were seeking refuge in my bar full of normal looking people? Did I mention that I form bonds and relationships with people in about 1.5 seconds, so these girls are my girls now, and you don’t talk trash about my girls. I looked at him blankly, I’m at work, there’s a limit to what I can do, so I blandly wish him a good night, thank you for coming, safe trip home sir and all that customer service speak. He stumbled out into the night and never came again.
I check in with my girls. They thank me. The ear licking victim says she doesn’t quite know what happened but when I confirm that wasn’t what she wanted she wholeheartedly agrees. What saddens me is that she couldn’t push him away herself. I might be totally wrong, but my sense is that many of us women have a fear of being unattractive. Even if we don’t want the man, we want that man to want us. So when that man is buying her drinks all night, even if she’s not feeling it, she felt trapped. So trapped in fact, that that creepy, overly inflated ego of a man, could lick her ear and call her ugly and even then she couldn’t stand up for herself and reject him. Ugh. We need a new system. We need to be able to be ok with stopping the ear licker before he can become the ear licker. Let this be the call to arms.
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