Whilst making my way home via the ducks last night I passed a pretentious new cocktail bar. It was filled with gals whose professionally highlighted hair had been GHD’d within an inch of it’s non-living life, the jeans and dresses together are klassy, ‘specially with my new handbag!!!!!!!!! crew and also the associated young professional males with conspicuous consumption to do.
It seemed to be one of those familiar sorts of places where they try to put themselves over as being creative and different whilst not letting people in wearing trainers and charging seven quid a cocktail. I should say that I only passed the place, so for all I know they might let people in wearing wellies and charge only a fiver per tall drink. Who knows? What I can say is that their website is fucking awful and I could most definitely do a better job.
The thing is, whenever I see a place like said venue, I feel a little jealous of all the fuckwits who can afford the place or who are out on a date and won’t have to pay. I can’t help but wish I could go, just so I could go in and feel smug that I am a “proper” non-conformist who actually “deserves” to be in a creatively different bar and then enjoy myself being rude about the place and the clientele. I am terrible.
There’s no reason I can’t go, just as there’s no reason why I can’t go and sit in any other bar on my own, but similarly, what would be the point? It’s the sort of glass box that screams seduction and at the moment I think i’d just sit there looking decidedly sullen.
I look slightly sullen most of the time (it’s the way my face hangs), so when I really am sullen I look goddamn gruesome; I would get the usual “Cheer up, it might never happen” to which I would give them a hard look and reply with “That’s why i’m unhappy…” It’s awesome; it’s like a security screen has been thrown up between us, and the male usually moves along sharpish. Bye bye.
Ugh, going through pathetic wallowing in self-pity phase. Feel like I want the world to leave me the fuck alone, but of course the world excluding improper persons I love. This is why i’ll continue to hang out in the crow’s nest, curled up on the beanbag with Sinatra singing torch songs through my headphones. It’s just a phase, I promise to knock it off as soon as.
Inset day tomorrow la la la