I love my regular bar. One of my best friends is the bartender, the wait-staff is all amazing, and I usually end up making friends with the bouncers. I even love the majority of the regulars! However, I don't always the other clientele. It's a sports bar (albeit a sports bar in a gorgeous old space with a suit of armor above the bar, but there are a million TVs), and one that has really incredible drink specials every night. The result is that a lot of bros and douchecanoes come there.

I normally avoid this problem by staying away on Saturday nights, choosing instead to come on Sundays or Mondays. There are still bros and assfaces, but for the most part they leave me, my friends, and the other regulars alone. Occasionally I've been hit on directly, but mostly it's just dudes checking me out. Whatever. Not a big deal. Then last night, some guy came on to me and tried to touch me.

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I was with Mr. Fishnets and his best friend, I was still feeling pretty shaky about losing Conner, but I needed to get out of the house. Plus, I really wanted to see my buddy Nick (the bartender who makes Bioshock Infinite drinks). Unfortunately, Mr. Fishnet's best friend has a talent of saying the wrong things and then being unwilling to admit he said something wrong. This happened, and instead of making a fucking scene, I went back towards the bathrooms and stood in the corner to cool off. Then this guy approaches me.

I don't know if he had been watching me, or what, but he says: "Oh, you seem like you're having a bad night." I tell him politely that I got into an argument with a friend. He goes. "That sucks, but what is your philosophy on life." First red flag pops up and I think about making an exit, before I realize that this guy is blocking my exit. I give a few terse one word answers, then this exchange happens:

Him: Can I pull on your nose ring?
Me: No.
Him: C'mon! It won't be hard, it'll be like this—

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And then he grabs at my leg, pinching my thighs and pulling at the fabric of my jeans. I immediately squirm away. "No. Don't touch me." He tries again, this time I move and he only manages to grasp my belt loop. I repeat louder: "I said don't touch me. I'm here with my boyfriend."

To which he says: "Oh, so he's the one you're fighting with, right?"

I'm really nervous now, because he does have my exit completely blocked and he is bigger than me. I'm completely out of view of Mr. Fishnets and our friend, as well as the bar and the wait-staff. I see the bar-back a few times but I don't manage to catch his eye. The guy continues to try to talk to me by insulting me and anything I like/believe (PS3, the fact that I'm agnostic). I'm worried he's going to grab me again. Thankfully, Mr. Fishnets realizes that I've been gone for too long and comes looking for me. He immediately comes to my side. This guy may have been bigger than me, but Mr. Fishnets is bigger than him.

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Right away the guy goes: "Hey man, I wasn't doing anything. I wasn't trying anything." Mr Fishnets laughs and says "I wouldn't be worried by you, man." We go away, and I tell him what happened. I have to stop Mr. Fishnets from going back there and taking a swing at the guy once he learns he put his hands on me. The bartender is furious. He wants to throw the guy out but since the guy barely touched me, he can't. I just want to leave and go home. The bouncer goes up to the guy and says: "If you don't keep your hands to yourself, I'm going to throw you out on your ass." I still just want to leave and go home.

I'm miserable. This is not the first time I've been harassed at a bar, but this is the first time I've been harassed at my bar. I hated feeling so uncomfortable and scared in a place that I normally feel at home. It was an awful experience, and ended up being an awful night because of it.

So fuck this. Fuck that. Fuck everything.