Yes. Things get slipped into drinks. No. This is not news.
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As a now retired female bartender, I thought I had the corner market on this little drink watching thing. I've tended bar in a half-dozen places here. (Yuck, I know, blame my never ending educational endeavors.) I still go out occasionally with my girlfriends, but part of me has a hard time letting go and getting tanked. Why, you ask? Two reasons.
Well, having bartended (and dated more "security" guys than I should have) I have seen my fair share of people in the throws of a mickey fit. I've sat and held confused, crying women who security literally drug in from the parking lot. I've watched big, manly men crying because the "spiders" they saw crawling everywhere were going to get them. Watch this once or twice. Look a woman right in the eyes, knowing she was headed to the hospital for a rape kit work-up. Then tell me that I shouldn't "cock-block" when your buddy is just trying to score a piece with my hot, albeit barely coherent girlfriend.
Even as careful as I am, I was slipped something in Vegas. Fortunately, I was with my then significant other's buddies who had been charged with my safekeeping. Three hours and three martinis later, I couldn't stand up. THREE DAYS later, my hands finally stopped shaking and the puking went away.
So again. Please. When I explain to you, Mr. Hot Guy trying to talk me into letting my drunk girlfriend go to that private afterparty/hottub thing---don't think I'm a bitch. When I get frustrated from alternately trying to prop upright one of my girls while you and said semi-coherent friend wheedle, to go to some unknown person's home--- be a gentleman. When I finally get upset, give you her phone number and tell you that "I don't care if you fuck my friend all day tomorrow, but I am ABSOLUTELY not turning her over to you at 2:00am." Don't think I am a cold, frigid unfeeling bitch who really needs some of "what you got".
Understand that part of me would love to toss back a few more shots, shake my thing on the dance floor and pass out after some very fumbly sex on your bed sheets that haven't been washed in a month. The problem here is that after my aforementioned experiences, it makes me a little wary. Yes, I have a trust issues with SOME of your gender. Not you, per se, but the very small handful of those OTHER guys that have given you a bad rap. The ones with the mommy issues, control problems, rageaholics and the unimpressive equipment, who have to drug a girl into oblivion to get laid. So please, when I (the responsible, semi-sober friend) ask you to please sleep with her tomorrow, respect that. I have a duty to my friends to keep them safe. More importantly, I have a duty to their children, being their fun "Aunt" to bring their mom home safe after our all-too-rare night out.
And in a side issue: Being the semi-sober, responsible one does not necessarily make me the least likely candidate in such a target rich environment. You would be surprised, pumpkin, at how far an invite for coffee or greasy breakfast tomorrow will get you. Besides, I'm also the nurturing one, who cooks great Italian, your mother will love and who knows, your future children might actually have a chance at being literate with the friend who is "hot, but a bitch". Take a chance, it might be worth it. And quit whining that you “Never meet nice women in the bar”. Let’s rethink. The nice women are usually not the one’s who are willing to go home with you that night. Nor are they the ones who strip in public, blow you in the bathroom, make out with their friends (well, sometimes), whore themselves out for another Long Island or dress like they are getting paid to be there. There are nice girls in bars. I know them. I meet them all the time. They just aren’t the ones you are immediately drawn to, due to their lack of clothing. But I promise you. The nice girls are the ones you would double take at the grocery store, but skip over in a smokey dark club. If you think you should wear a body condom or have to dig through more than three inches of makeup to find skin, chances are this is not a “nice” one. Just a thought.
P.S. Can you call us a cab?