Friday, May 22, 2009
I feel I need to set up some definitions of terms I will use in the future. Here is the first one: comerag.
I hate douchebags, douchebaggery and fake confidence in men. They abound in Chicago, and run the whole gamut of scenesterism: hipsters, dudes, rock stars, playahz, frat-things and worse. You can usually tell who the douchebag is by his company of followers, but if he's traveling solo, it can be a bit more difficult to detect.
While douchebags are a-plenty, there is a secret society of female douchebags which I have coined the come-rag. I think it should have the same flow as douche-bag. Douche bag, come rag. Douchebaggery, comeraggery. They both sort of have the same game plan: meet lots of members of the opposite sex, pick one to go home with, repeat within 48 hours.
I have no problem with casual sex. I try to get to know my lovers sober before I'm in their bedrooms, but at the very least I do agree that sex can be a necessity for many people. The problem I have with douchebags and their female counterparts is how inappropriate their lives are beyond just getting plastered and hooking up.
I like Estelle's bar in Chicago. It's a 4am (5am on Saturdays) pub in the heart of hipster and trendsters central: Wicker Park. When the douchebags/comerags are unsuccessful at getting the hookup before the 2am bars close, they're all off to Estelle's at 2:30. It's a great place to watch monkeys mating. Some of my friends are douchebags or comerags. Yes, I call them these titles to their faces. They're oblivious to it. No one will get in the way of them leading the pack of vermin on the hunt for a haggard, sloppy lover.
The female douchebag has worse problems: she gets VERY pretty as you drink. I don't get beer goggles (actually, women get far uglier as I drink, which is probably why I don't hookup drunk), but most people do. In the daylight, the comerag looks quite average, but as the night progresses, she gets more and more attractive. Once that "I'm drunk" look hits her face (after the 7th PBR), her eyes start scanning the room, trying to find the next new boy in the scene that she hasn't bumped uglies with.
It's annoying, which is why I try not to hang out with ANYONE who goes out just for the hookup. I'm an exceptional wingman because of my strong peripheral vision. I can see everything around me without obviously looking. For a friend who hasn't gottne any in awhile, or is actually looking to meet someone to date, I'm all in. For my friends who have slept with more people in 3 months than I have in my entire life, I'm out.
I made the mistake last fall of going out with a douchebag and comerag I know. Together. They had slept together once or twice (they're not sure), and we finally landed at Estelle's at 2:30am. Instead of being able to talk to friends and possibly make new ones, I was fielding the same damn questions from both: "She's cute, is that her boyfriend?" or "I wonder if he has a big dick, what do you think?" It was incessant communications with no amount of real banter, comedy, sadness or even diligence other than "I need to get laid."
When they were out of PBRs, they asked me to cover a round. No, thank you. I won't instill support for this horrific way of life. When sober, they have nothing. They hate their jobs, hate their lives, hate their useless degrees, their families. Their ties to friends seem fleeting. They throw people and possibilities away.
I used to have sympathy for them, even empathy, but that is long gone. Like the bipolar who don't seek help, or the sociopaths who ruin lives behind them, the douchebags and comerags in my life are more wasted time than I can acknowledge. Get drunk, have sex, miss rent by 10 days, cell phone gets disconnected monthly, borrow $3 for a beer, check out that dude/chick for me, repeat. Why do I bother?