I had a good time last night, but it did remind me why I'm such a homebody. I haven't really had that many girls nights out on the town in LA since I've moved here. I don't know if I necessarily found LA bar scene to be so different from Boston, or if it's just that I haven't been out like that in so long, everything about it was particularly striking. Striking? Maybe the word "revolting" would be more appropriate. I just don't understand what men are thinking. You know what, I'm not even sure if I'm comfortable calling them "men." A pathetic, cheesy metrosexual could never lend to "manliness." Whatever, the point is, I just couldn't believe the level of bullshit with which I was forced to confront. I'll give you an example - I'm walking through the bar with Jamie...actually, it was more like slithering through a condensed maze of sweaty beasts, and I feel something on my stomach. Couldn't even tell where it was coming from, so I reached down and pulled up a hand. It was attached to this vile creature who seemed happy about his blown cover, and he smiled. "What the FUCK are you doing, dude?" I growled at him, more curious than I was angry because I was fascinated by his audacity. And he replies, "I'm just giving your stomach a little tickle." Flabbergasted, I barked, "You don't fucking 'tickle' a girl's stomach! Are you fucking kidding me, dude?" He was unphased. That was the weirdest part.

I finally get out of the bar, and we're sitting at a table outside to get some air. A guy approaches us and says hello. I have no problem with someone saying hi to me. I'm not the type of person who thinks I'm too fucking cool to give a simple response to a simple greeting. We smile back at him - no flirtation, just gracious, and he starts making fun of people inside. I'm cool with people-watching and shit-talking because that's the fun of being out. He's talking about how bitchy all the women in LA are. He's going on and on, and I'm concurring based off of what I've heard from other guys, not from my own experience. He then asks me where I'm from, and I tell him NJ. Swear to God, this guy goes into a 10 minute tirade about how NJ girls are the worst - actually, he kept saying "Jersey girls," and proceeded to explain what bitches we all were. Now, Jamie and I have just been talking to this guy, being very polite and normal with him, but now I'm suddenly on the defensive. Now, I'm pissed off because he's going on and on about it. Next thing you know, I'm being a bitch. It was a trap. It's like when you're totally fine and someone is like, "God, RELAX!!!" and now you're all tense, but you WERE relaxed. Or even worse, when someone tells you you're so defensive, so that you have to say, "No, I'M NOT!" thus making you defensive when you weren't originally.

The other lines I heard were out of control. I will give credit to one guy though, and I commend him completely for his attempt. He approached me as I was sitting at the bar waiting for my jacket, and he said, "Hi, I'm a horrible dancer, but I was wondering if you'd like to come out and dance with me anyway." Genuine smile, looked me right in the eyes. Sure, it was a line, but he was asking me to dance. That has to be a line. In fact, talking to any stranger for no other reason than to actually talk to them at a bar will have to begin with some kind of line. This guy though wanted to dance so he asked. I didn't dance though for a few reasons. One - I really was worried my jacket was lost. Two - I wasn't looking for a guy, and I think it's messed up to interact that directly when you have no intension at all of talking to the person again (leading them on), three - I honestly didn't feel like dancing. But I thanked him for asking, and told him I was flattered and that he was very sweet. See guys - that's the way to do it. Are you still going to run into bitches that blow you off? Yeah, absolutely, but just get to the point, and stop thinking we can't tell when you're being cool and when you're being a fucking loser.

Spilling out of the bar after last call was the most terrifying and fascinating part of the evening. Jamie and I were arm and arm for protection, and we were being attacked. You look around at these cheesy freaks who are literally drooling at every single chick out there. You're afraid of making eye contact with anyone because they take that as an invite to fuck. Some guy jumped in front of us and wouldn't let us pass. Like, we were darting around him, but he would leap to the sides to block us. What was he trying to accomplish? Seriously though, can anyone answer me that? What? What did he think would happen? That we'd stop and say, "Hey, what up, baby?" I mean, he was drunk, but I wanted to ask him. Don't you feel like such a jerk when two girls have to scream at you, "Get out of our fucking way, you asshole!!!"

Maybe it was just the place we were at. Maybe it was because I was dead sober. Maybe because I've been completely unassociated with the scene for so long. Spending time with my friend and her friends always makes a good night, but I'm starting to wonder if there's ever a point to go out unless you're bringing with you the only people you plan on talking to, and the rest of the people at the bar just serve as something to mock over miller lites. You know what, that's always been the only reason I go out. Do people actually go out to meet people? I mean, a party is different, you're all there because you know somebody who knows somebody who brought you there. Parties are meant for meeting people. I guess a bar should be the same thing, but I don't think it is. Sadly, I can't explain why, or maybe I just don't feel like it.

Whatever, I'm exhausted still. I can't get enough sleep, or I just keep getting too much. Who knows. I need to clean my room again because a bomb always hits it when I'm not looking. Then I need to shower so that I can resemble something attractive. Truth is, I'm probably just going to turn on my TV. Oh well.