Pity for rich men.
Last night a Dane and a cokehead took G, L, and I to karaoke. What started as a night of just L and I having a pint on the canal turned into the most Scandinavian-looking man and his friends (the girl being my favorite- she was a riot) chatting to us, G joining, and a random Irish man who claimed he was friends with the guy who’d just left the group. Anyhow, I wanted karaoke, and I didn’t know just how addicted to cocaine this man was, yet. So, I offered to the group, and when he asked to join, we all said yes with open arms- we’re polite after all. Blondie spent the night bouncing between L and me to the point where we couldn’t tell who he wanted or if either of us even wanted him anymore. This resulted in what I would have no other way, L and I walking home together. He messaged to ask me out, and I said yes. Thought on it, realized how much I adore L, and even if she wasn’t interested, I don’t want to entertain a man who couldn’t figure out which of us to entertain and didn’t have the balls to ask in person anyway, so I changed my mind and said no. Besides that, he’s insane for not asking out L- she’s much kinder than I, and she has these piercing eyes. I thought the Danes were supposed to be sharp. Now onto the coke head. This man demanded we hop in his taxi, but with G by my side (who is older and wiser), I agreed. He then paid for the taxi, paid 160 euros for the karaoke, and god knows how much for the drinks. But considering he crossed one too many lines with L, I don’t feel a second of guilt for smiling and walking off at the end of the night rather than forking over some cash. He was sad, somewhat pathetic. We’ve all had nights out where I’m sure someone thinks we’re pathetic, but I get the feeling this was just a normal Friday for him. Many times, he’d play with his nose or have his bank card out when he didn’t need it, all little signs. But then he just offered it straight to L. So that was a dead giveaway. The biggest tell, however, was the fact that he would attempt to sing every word of a line in karaoke in one fast breath. He’d be done with the line by the time Black Eyed Peas got the second word. He was sporadic, messy, and gross. G finally got fed up and excused herself to the bathroom, followed by a “girls, I had to leave” text, which was completely understood. But G being 4 years older than us, L and I didn’t want to be rude. This begs the question: Why do younger women feel the need to accommodate older weird men’s emotions? And typically, I don’t. But when money is involved, you feel a sense of materialistic guilt. L and I agreed on the walk home, had this man not put his card down, we wouldn’t have spent a second longer with him. Had we known how he’d behave, we wouldn’t have let him put his card down. All in all, men with money hold a certain space and advantage that poor men don’t. And it isn’t power, or anything important, it’s pity. If a sad man pays for your drink, you’re more likely to sit and talk. Isn’t that in itself sad? I think it boils down to maternalistic urges that younger women feel stronger than women who know exactly what they want and when they want it. Hats off to G. L and I are close behind.
