To celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, I did something I don’t ordinarily do. I went to an Irish Pub.

My family will be thrilled. Somehow, they feel I am missing something important in life by not enjoying night life. You gotta understand. My family likes bars, night clubs, and casinos. When we went to the Bahamas last Christmas, my siblings and parents went out in the evening, leaving me home in our condo with my daughter (I was the only one who brought a child along). What bothered them is not that I stayed home--but that I really didn’t mind.

Finally, one night, the parents decided to stay home with my daughter so I could join my siblings. I reluctantly went. At the hot, smoky bar, we watched college students do stupid pet tricks for free beer. My sister even joined in and won a beer chugging contest against these tiny little girls from Idaho. Like most bars in the United States, it was dark, and everything was set up to suggest something illicit was happening or would be soon. The entertainment was geared to one small group of people—college men—and, judging by their responses, it didn’t even do its job.

As a 40-year-old woman, I was not entertained either. So I left wondering, who is this really entertaining? Real people or some image of what Bahaman’s believe people from the US want? Or what we ourselves think is “real” fun? The concept of what is real “fun” in the youth obsessed US culture revolves around what the young, hip people are doing, and that is often defined by coming of age movies set in high schools or colleges. So, many of us continue to believe, long after we are out of high school and college, that to stay young, to be hip, to have “real “ fun, we need to go to these kind of bars. I don’t get it.

Don’t get me wrong. I was a bar lover during my college and graduate school days. I spent the school year as a part-time cocktail waitress at Four Corners in Chapel Hill on Wednesday ($3.00 pitcher night) and Saturday nights (all around wildness night). I spent summers bartending in Myrtle Beach or some other beach location at the popular nightspots some that stayed open all night. Even when I was a professor in college towns, I sometimes went out to hear live music or go to a poetry slam. I even once imagined owning my own bar (of course, somehow combined with a bookstore).

As a service worker in bars, bar culture became ingrained in me early on. I was an expert in all the drinking games, and I often made money bouncing quarters into half-filled glasses of beer. I knew how to break up fights before the bouncer could even get there. I could keep men laughing and leaving big tips without ever going home with any of them or giving out a phone number. I also knew when to cut someone off and get him a cab. I was a good bartender.

I saw many people have fun in bars, but I also saw many people not having fun—using drinking as an excuse to be something they wanted to be in daily life but weren’t allowed to be. Mean. Sexual. Aggressive. Larger than life. I also saw many people simply make bad decisions. I learned to spot the mean drunks, the predators, and the showboats right off, and stay far far away. I preferred waiting on the happy drunks—the ones whose smiles just got bigger throughout the night. Ironically, I learned reasons to not drink while serving alcohol to others in bars. I guess these lessons have stuck with me.

Also, I have seen that it can be different. I traveled to Spain, and while there, I was immersed in a different drinking culture. Heck, Spaniards do shots of grappa with breakfast, have wine with lunch, drink a beer during the evening paseo. But I never saw a drunk Spaniard. I saw plenty of drunk Germans, Americans, Irishmen, and Brits--there on vacation and having "real fun" falling down at the big city nightclubs, passing out on beaches, throwing up at fiestas. In contrast, I saw lots of people in Spain happily using alchohol in moderation. The local bars are community centers, cafes, and bars all rolled into one--well lighted, clean, no hint that anything illicit is going on or will go on. Whole families spend hours in the bars, and children run around laughing. What a concept--adults having fun without pretending to not be adults. Now, that, I can do. I am all for moderation and balance and integration of family and fun. Spain helped me redefine what "real fun" is for me.

So, last night, when I went to Irish Pub, I didn’t enjoy it all that much. In fact, I only stayed a little over an hour. I talked with some friends, which was fun, but as I walked to the bar to get a drink, I went out on my own. Immediately, men wanting to buy drinks for me, one even waving a hundred dollar bill in the bartender’s face, surrounded me. It was nice to know I hadn’t lost my touch. But here is a sample conversation:

Man 1: "You have awesome breasts."

Me: "Thank you. I have an equally awesome mind. Which means I won't be talking to you anymore."

It made me a little sad. Is this the only avenue I have to meet men to date? Men who think they can buy my attention with alcohol? Think getting drunk and trying to get me drunk in an effort to seduce me is wise courtship behavior? Think being crude is cute? And think a drunk man makes an attractive man? Obviously, I didn't find these men attractive. But, gee, how else am I suppposed to meet men? Yeah, yeah, I’ve done some of the other things I am supposed to do to meet men—gone to church (I’m a Unitarian—many gay and/or married men); joined E-Harmony (the only real match found a real-time girlfriend the night before we had planned a date); and gone to the YMCA (lots of married men). Obviously, none of these have worked, and I don’t think a bar is the place either. Oh, well.

My family is happy I went out. They want me to be happy. They want me to have fun. They want me to meet someone new. But they wouldn't be happy if they knew the conclusions I’ve drawn. Frankly, I am quite content being single and am becoming set in my ways after nearly 3 years of being separated/divorced. And if I these are the only ways I have to meet men, I'd rather not bother. There HAS to be a better way.