I had taken care with my clothes that evening and tried on several different outfits before settling on something casual yet chic (at least I thought so). A fine balance. I didn’t want to look like I was a) trying too hard b) a gold digger or c) way out of my league. I don’t think I could ever really live in Paris. Everyday would be a headache deciding what to wear. The women there are so unbelievably fashionable it makes me sick with envy. I consider myself quite fashionable in Vancouver… but Paris is a whole other ball game. I would probably have to go on anti-anxiety meds were I to move there.

The walk to the Ritz from my hotel along the Rue Saint-Honoure was nerve racking. I was sweating, my palms were clammy, I was nervous. I’m not really sure why. It was, after all, just another hotel bar. I’ve done this before… sat at a bar by myself. Why was I so ridiculously nervous? Part of me thought they may turn me away at the door, “Non, je suis desole, mais vous etes tres déclassé”. I thought I would get the big snub, and everyone would peg me for a fraud. Walking through the giant, gilded revolving doors, I managed to keep my cool and retain an air of confidence (hopefully only I sensed that it was fake). I asked the very formal doorman to direct me to the Bar Hemingway and he gave me a series of instructions that I knew I would forget. I walked through the lobby with purpose in the general direction of his pointing hand. This in itself was awe inducing. The lobby is incredibly opulent and dripping with wealth. Guests were walking through the lobby in jewels and designer clothes (I spied a gorgeous Prada dress I had only seen in Vogue) on their way to some fantastic soiree or restaurant. Staff were standing at attention, ready to help at any instant. And there I was, feeling like I had stepped through the wardrobe to another world. The hallway leading to the back bar was lined with gleaming glass cabinets containing treasures I could only dream of owning. Feathered hats, Crystal glasses, gold pens and children’s clothes more expensive than my first year tuition. Yes, I was drooling and feeling a little sorry for myself. Where were my millions??

The Bar Hemingway was nothing that I expected, yet really was the best place I could have chosen to satisfy my need to nest. The tiny room is encased in warm wood paneling with photos of Ernest Hemingway covering the walls. There are bookcases and trinkets, leather armchairs and a hidden nook. I could have spent each and every night there throughout the duration of my time in Paris (I actually ended up there 3 nights in a row… oops). The bar wasn’t very busy when I arrived at 8:00pm, there was one young American couple in the nook, an older, wealthy couple at a low table and a couple of solo men at the bar. Obviously, I chose a stool at the bar.

As soon as I sat down, I was warmly welcomed and I felt like I belonged. It felt like home. There was no pretention (ok… maybe not completely like home, Vancouver is oozing with pretention), no one looked down on me (at least not obviously) and everyone was smiling. The bartender, Colin, introduced himself and revealed himself as the perfect host. He struck up a conversation with everyone who entered the doors and had everyone talking to each other at the bar. He was as all bartenders should be: welcoming, friendly, social and knowledgable, with the ability to talk on any subject to anyone. I was introduced to the two gentleman sitting at the bar. One was an American in Paris on business (not my type) and the other was a well dressed, handsome french man, Thierry.

The American left after awhile and Thierry moved closer to sit next to me. We hit it off almost instantly, his almost impeccible English definitely helping the matter. Could this be my Paris romance? I certainly hoped so. He was dark, medium build with bushy eyebrows and full lips. He looked french… in a really good way. The more we chatted, the more we discovered that we enjoyed the same things and had the same interests. He invited me to join him for dessert at a nearby restaurant. How could I refuse? While Thierry was in the restroom, Colin even leaned in to say that he was a good man and a regular. My kind of man… one who frequents the Ritz.

Thierry took me to the Point Bar, a cozy yet very happening restaurant just 5 minutes away - the perfect spot for a thundery and rainy night. Our conversation never had an awkward moment, both of us just kept talking and talking, about everything and anything. There was definitely a connection and I enjoyed his company. We made a dash through the rain to the Metro after dessert and made plans to have dinner the next evening, meeting at the Ritz for a cocktail first, of course. The next two days, my last two days, in Paris were a whirlwind romance… kissing on cobblestone streets, holding hands, watching the sunset on the Pont des Arts. It was everything I had hoped a french romance would be… and it’s still going… Thank god for bar stools at the Ritz.

My Lessons From a Bar Stool:

Lessons for the Ladies:

1. I can’t stress this enough, when you are in a major city, you must visit the ritziest hotel bar in town for that glass of wine. You could meet your prince.

2. Before leaving a bar with a stranger, do ask the barman about him. You never know what you could be getting yourself into

3. When entering a bar of this calabre, act like you belong there. Don’t shy away or look uncomfortable, it will make you stand out… and not in a good way.

Lessons for the Men:

1. Go to a bar by yourself. It makes it easier to approach women and to have a conversation.

2. Pick a swanky bar to frequent and get on good terms with the barman. This will help you in meeting other women in the bar.

3. Channel the french… be charming, intelligent, cultured, chivalrous, well dressed… need I go on?

-S.A.

As we opened the doors to the pub, the wave of testosterone hit us like a train.  We stumbled our way to the bar through the crowd, our heads spinning around, looking at the talent.  Wow.  K and I couldn’t help but nudge each other.  I think that between us, we had hooked up with 6 or 7 guys in our immediate vicinity.  It was a little surreal.  They were talking to each other in groups and we wondered if they had any clue that they each had bedded us at some point over the past 8 years.  Hmmm… This would be an interesting evening.

We hadn’t planned on staying there long - it was just a lay over really.  The three of us pulled up to the bar and huddled around the one stool that was available (does this really qualify as a Tales From a Bar Stool with only one stool, you ask? Hells yeah).  It was the best vantage point in the bar - we could keep tabs on all of our past conquests.  As it was, we were standing next to one guy who I had taken down three years earlier (let’s call him Justin Bobby due to his striking resemblance) and who had very recently facebooked me with his cell number and a note telling me to call him.  Interesting.  Also interesting to note that he completely ignored me when I sidled up.  Why do guys do this?  Pretend they don’t see you standing there.  Was the sex really awful?  Do they like to pretend it never happened?  Whatever it is, it’s rude and, to be honest, a huge shot to the ego.  Mine was slowly deflating each second he spent pretending I wasn’t there.

Luckily, someone approached us and I was able to focus my attention elsewhere.  The first to approach was one of K’s conquests, but I had gone to high school with him.  I introduced him to the girls and asked if he remembered K.  He said, “Of course, I believe I pulled down her pants and gave her oral pleasure”.  Wow.  He’s an honest one.  Love honesty.  I think K was rather taken aback by the honesty but I also know that she loved it all the same.  She still secretly has a minor crush on the boy, despite her living with her boyfriend status.  He went behind the bar and got shots sorted out for all of us.  Nice move.  He was definitely winning points from our group.

While this was all going on, I decided to take the initiative and approach Justin Bobby.  He was standing right next to me, after all.  How could I let it go?  He was engrossed in his text message but I placed my hand on his wrist and said hello.  He smiled instantly and said hello back.  I introduced him to the others and K asked how we knew each other (already knowing the answer).  His response: ”We had sex in a bathroom once”.  What is it with these men and honesty?!  Fantastic.  At least he remembered where he knew me from.  We really did have sex in a washroom, at the house party of the guy who had given “oral pleasure” to K.  Awesome. 

K spied two other men from her past.  They were best friends and she had taken them both down - years apart.  One of them kept looking at her.  He had asked for her number a few months ago without realizing that he had already slept with her.  Men really need to start paying more attention.

K and I really were in our element and I think WT was getting a kick out of the whole situation.  I have to say that just sitting/standing at the bar and waiting for men to approach us has never worked better.  We were in demand - granted we were 3 of only 6 women in the bar.  My London Lover was next to approach - we had hooked up on my last trip on London and he was back in town for Christmas.  I got a quick kiss from LL and we had a brief chat.  By this point, the three of us were well into our 4th or 5th drinks (we had been drinking at another bar) and K was a little loose lipped.  LL asked how we all knew each other (this seemed to be the question of the night), and K reciprocated the question then added to the end of it “I don’t suppose you had sex in a bathroom did you?”  With any other guy, this would have been ok to ask.  But truth be told, LL and I had had “relations” in a pub bathroom in London.  Great.  He played it cool, without seeming too fazed, and replied, “Actually, it was just oral”.  It was a little awkward for a second and I swore up and down that I hadn’t said a word to the girls.  It really was just a random question, but K had hit the bull’s-eye.  What it comes down to is that men like to brag about their conquests just as much as women do.  Everyone wants people to know that they have had sex, are having sex and will be having sex.

I really can’t remember ever being in a situation where I was surrounded by so many past hook ups.  I enjoyed it immensely… I’m not gonna lie.  It was a bit of an ego boost.

My Lessons From a Bar Stool:

Lessons for the Ladies:

1.  Always remember to smile, no matter how “sticky” the situation may be.

2.  Do ask how others know each other.  It will get the conversation going and you never know what secrets will be revealed.

3.  Do call a guy on his BS.  If he asks for your number again, forgetting that he’s already seen you naked, tell him what you really think.

Lessons for the Men:

1.  Don’t pretend you don’t remember sleeping with someone.  It’s poor form.  We know you know who we are.  Acknowledge your past conquests… you never know, you may get a repeat performance.

2.  Be bold and honest. Women like men with confidence.

3.  Do buy shots.  It’s only appropriate when you’ve received a BJ.

-S.A.

After a few hours making the social rounds, we headed out to one of Vancouver’s “popular” night clubs. I think I’m somewhat jaded after partying in other cities. To be honest, I haven’t found one night club here that doesn’t reek of poor management and a subpar party crowd. We hung out in the VIP with some of our buddies and did a few laps of the club. Can I just say, that as I get older, either I’m becoming more conservative or the girls in this town are getting “trashier”. We saw a few… umm… “ladies” out that could have easily passed for your average whore. I suppose if I was a man it would be perfect. But I’m not. Just think if the men in this city dressed up in their best underwear? Yeah… exactly, not leaving much to the imagination. S.A. and I bid our goodbyes in search of… well, to be completely honest, better looking and perhaps classier men.

As we made our way down the street, the sudden urge for some carbs took over. I know, not exactly classy; but trust me, if you’ve been drinking for six hours, prawn appetizers aren’t going to save you later. So naturally we headed into one of the many dolla dolla pizza places that are lined along the famous Granville Street. As we sat on the pizza stool eating our ham and pineapple, we stared out the window at the debauchery going by. We were honestly contemplating if we should call it a night and give up on finding Mr. Right Now.

As we discussed our options, a devilishly handsome boy walked by and caught my eye. Now he didn’t stop to say hi, but he did flash us a grin that would make some movie stars envious. As we watched him cross the street he looked back again and gave us a wave as if to say “come on, let’s go have some fun”. Obviously we didn’t jump up and run to him, a girls got to play it a bit coy. I think the more I learn about this dating game, the more I think the good men out there, the ones that are going to show you a good time and keep you interested, are the ones that enjoy the chase as much as the ladies. We sat smiling at his antics from across the street and, after he gave us a little dance in the rain, we waved him over to come get us - and he did. He was very cute, a cross between Justin Timberlake and Joaquin Phoenix and he was personable.

Of course, it was just our luck that he was visiting from out of town. Now, out of towners can be great when you are looking for some fun. But Ladies, winter is coming and my bed is getting colder. I’m thinking I could be ready to bunker down with some full-time talent for a few months. Okay, sorry, let me get back to the story at large here.

The three of us bonded instantly. As I shared my ham and pineapple and we talked American politics, A.E. invited us to join him and his amigos for some fun. We crossed over to Whineo’s, a really great wine bar/lounge on the western side of Granville Street. A.E. had lost his friends, but didn’t seem overly concerned; after all, he had two belles to keep him focused. We jumped next door to the Royal, Van’s version of a backpacker’s bar. Yes, we had lost all hope of going upscale for the evening, but we were having fun. A.E. bought us some drinks and pulled us on the dance floor. I’m not going to lie, his dance moves didn’t impress. I’m fairly judgmental having dated a latino and having an eye for the rhythm. I left the dance floor to suck back my drink, as I was suddenly sobering up and feeling very aware that I was surrounded by very young 19 year olds, who looked as though they might start dry humping on the dance floor. Ahhh… those were the days. S.A. and A.E. soon came over to join me and as A.E. excused himself for the w/c, we decided he was definitely no J.T. and called it a night. As we left the bar in search of a yellow cab, I felt slightly disappointed that this party girl was all dressed up with no one to take down. We stood under the awning as the rain pelted down, shivering and wondering just how crappy we were going to feel the next day for a night that was by all means only average.

All of a sudden, I felt a warm arm wrap around my waist and A.E. smoothly slid between us as if he was saying “thanks for waiting for me, Ladies”. Yes, this one was definitely comfortable in his own skin. Very hot. We stood there against the wall, huddled up and occasionally warming our hands against A.E.’s very nice body. Before we knew it, this bold foreigner was copping a feel and leaning in to kiss both me and S.A. Now normally I would have just laughed and brushed him off, but his confidence and looks were simply irresistible. It could have been the copious amounts of wine chased by hard alcohol, but I’m fairly sure it wasn’t just that, it was something more. Before I knew it, we were heading back to his hotel… just the three of us.

We sat in the lobby for quite sometime as he worked his charm on taking us both up to his room. I have never gone there before, especially not with a close friend. So what do two girls do who don’t want to make a decision? Listen up boys, we flipped a coin. To have a threesome with a handsome stranger and your friend, or not? Heads we don’t, tails we do.

Now this is the point where I stop the story and leave you all hanging, wondering if it was heads or tails…

Our Lessons from a Bar Stool:

Lessons for the Ladies:

1. Let me be frank here, desperation reeks. Never be easy, make ‘em work for it. Everyone enjoys a bit of a challenge.

2. Pizza stool, bar stool… what’s the diff? Just know that if you sit at a stool, you are so much more approachable than in a booth at the back of the venue.

3. Always set your ground rules before you enter into any type of “activity” that may push your boundaries or challenge your morals.

Lessons for the Men:

1. Learn how to dance. Rhythm is a dancer.

2. Be open and honest about your thoughts, what do you have to lose?

3. Confidence, confidence, confidence… without arrogance - I can’t stress this enough.

-W.T.

One of the guys kept glancing over at us and finally got up the nerve to make the approach. He asked us if we were from around there and for a second we hesitated, we could have some fun here. Both of us can easily slip into British accents… But did we really have the energy to keep it up all night? Eventually, we just spoke in our normal voices. The guy introduced himself to us as Josh from Ontario and he was there with his brother Cody, who lived in Edmonton. Excellent… brothers. I mentally called dibs on the darker and taller Josh, with the sparkling, cheeky blue eyes, two day stubble and tattoo up his arm. Yum.

They bought us drinks and Josh and I flirted… hard. No holds barred. He complimented me on my eyes and I said the same about his. He was sarcastic and witty and I was bold and a tease. Perhaps it was all the drinks of the night catching up with me, or the need to wound my broken heart caused by an earlier incidence. Whatever it was, I was on fire. He told me I had kissable lips and that he wanted to try them out later and I seductively licked them… half joking, half serious.

And then it happened. Cody, the brother, came over and leaned in… “Did you know my brother has no legs?” Wait… what? For reals? Was this just an older brother taking the piss and ruining his little brother’s game? Hmmm… I needed proof. Josh wasn’t even embarrassed. He raised one pant leg, then the other… prosthetics. Wow. I have to admit that I was taken aback for a split second, but I was determined not to let it bother me. Actually, it was kind of intriguing. Have you ever had sex with a man with no legs? Neither had I. And yes, I was curious. Plus, the guy was hot with a wicked personality and fit upper bod. He was a catch. With or without legs.

I must say though, I was curious as to how he lost his legs. So I asked… He had been in the army and lost them in Iraq. I think I actually got goosebumps. That explained the tattoo - a machine gun with dog tags hanging from it. I gotta say, men in the army are hot. I’m not saying I’m pro war… but I do have a fantasty about military men steming from An Officer and a Gentleman and Top Gun.

Unfortunately, Josh’s sarcasm and humour took a turn for the worse as soon as his disability was revealed. It’s almost like he expected me to pity him and he was now guarded and defensive, without needing to be. It was a turn off. He also kept making negative references to his prosthetics and lack of legs. Also, a turn off. I wasn’t there to pity him and really, I was having a good time with him until his personality changed. I couldn’t care less if he had one, two or no legs. He was getting clingy and needy - not attractive in any man. He asked me to meet up with him the next day to see a movie. I couldn’t because I legitimately had plans with a cousin, but he called me on it and said that that was just a nice way of saying no. I wasn’t enjoying myself anymore and wanted to call it a night. So C and I tried to say our goodbyes and leave gracefully. Josh took it well and turned back into “charming Josh”. And this is where I paused and thought about going back to his hotel with him… He was hot, I was horny. But I didn’t want him to think that it was a pity fuck and have no fun “defensive Josh” return. So I backed down. Really is too bad… If only he had known.

PS.. we became friends on Facebook and I soon learned that at the time I met him, his girlfriend was expecting his baby back home. Oops.

Our Lessons From A Bar Stool:

Lessons for the Ladies:

1. Don’t visibly recoil when someone shows you a deformity or unattractive feature of themselves. It only makes them feel worse than they already feel. Just act like it’s no big deal. No one wants to feel pitied.

2. If you are attracted to someone and genuinely like them, don’t let some minor asthetic issue change that. Give them a chance. Personality goes a long way.

3. Take a risk and and try new things… ie… have sex with a man with no legs.

Lessons for the Men:

1. Be confident about yourself. Don’t let a flaw, or what you may think is a flaw, get you down.

2. Talking negatively about a part of your body or yourself is not going to help you. Drawing attention to it shows your insecurity. Instead, bring your best features to the forefront.

3. Compliment the girl you’re sweet on. Make her blush.

-S.A.

Read our previous Tales From a Bar Stool…

I was feeling a little blue and under the weather last week and by Thursday, all I really wanted to do was come home to my cozy apartment and snuggle onto my couch, flip on reruns of Grey’s Anatomy and wonder to myself “where is my Denny?” But when my two favorite ladies gave me the famous last words - ”just come out for one or two and then go home”, I couldn’t resist. Since when has a little hard alcohol ever hurt a cold? Yes, that’s right, I can justify anything.

We started out at a little work networking event - free booze and appies - perfect. I was really trying to behave and pace myself, but before I knew it I had made friends with the senior bartender (by this I mean he was a senior), who happened to take a liking to my free-spirited nature. To confess, I think saying his name repeatedly (it was a lovely name), winking and perhaps giving him a little hug may have been the catalyst for the ‘evil’ start to our night. Before I knew it, my wine glass was never empty… refills for our triage were coming hard and fast. I think S.A., Jo and myself left the party dancing out the door. Yes, yes we did. Next stop: the bar at Goldfish.

The ladies and I decided we should soak up the mass alcohol intake with some food, so we situated ourselves in a prime corner spot at the bar and poured over the menus for some satisfying carbs. Keen on settling our stomachs, we still hadn’t decided on drinks (most likely because all three of us had enough liquor to last us well into the night). Minutes after wavering on our drink order, and opting for fries and spring rolls, our server came back over to let us know that the three gentlemen at the other end of the bar had sent over a bottle of red wine. Since we had been drinking white all night, we politely asked if we could switch the bottle over to a comparable white, we also asked her to thank them kindly for their generosity. We looked at each other, unsure of what to expect next. Not too concerned as we have probably seen it all by now, we raised our glasses and toasted ourselves to having a good night.

Time went by, our appies arrived and still these men had not come over to introduce themselves. We enjoyed and appreciated the fact that they did not come over. You see, this does not happen often in our city. If a man sends you a drink and then comes over to introduce himself, quite often you’re stuck feeling politely obliged to talk to him. If you go the other route and don’t accept the drink, then you look like a snot, so really you can’t win. Well tonight was different. These men had class - they simply wanted to see the ladies having a good time. Was it too good to be true?

After we finished our appies, a round of shots came for us and again no intro. By then, these gents had earned the curiosity that would drop down the guards of any lady… just a bit. We refused to do our shots without their presence, so our server brought the trio over to meet us. All three men were polite, respectful and a tad on the shy side. They stayed for a bit and then returned to their seats. A few minutes later, another bottle of wine was brought over and then another round of shots. Who were these men and where can we be surrounded by more of them?

A tad later, I went to the wc to do my tactical vomit… yes, classy I know, but a must on a night like this. On my way back to the table, one of the trio caught my arm and looked me deep in the eyes. This gent was a bit older and from my first impressions of him I thought we might be playing on the same team. However, his first words to me were “would you like to go for dinner with me?” I smiled coyly back (of course) and said maybe. I’m not sure why, as I was not attracted to this man, but I figured he was interesting and personality gets a lot of points in my books these days. There is nothing worse than having to listen to a boring, impassionate man over dinner. He said “come for dinner with me tonight, let’s the two of us walk over to Glowbal”. I was impressed by his spontaneity. Although I was drunk as a skunk and tempted to go, I decided I should bring an accomplice and grabbed S.A. to come with me.

We headed over to Glowbal, where we saw Luongo (sigh) and his entourage. Notably present though was Trevor Linden’s brother - hot. After having another glass of wine at the bar, by this time we were not sure what we were talking about and started raving about the meatballs.  At our request, our poor date ordered us a round of meatballs. Things were going okay until he broke out into a bad rendition of the Carlton dance… at which point we may have said goodbye and bolted out the door. I don’t think it was the dance that made us leave, but our very short attention spans. I wonder if our date shared his balls with any other ladies that night?

Here are our Lessons From A Bar Stool:

Lessons for the Ladies:

1. Always have a classy exit plan in mind. Maybe preplan the exit plan before you have too many bevy’s.
2. Pace yourself. If you’re feeling on the edge, start leaving your drinks around the room. Pretend to do your shots and, if need be, do the tactical v.
3. Don’t prejudge all men that buy you drinks, there are still some men that follow the codes of chivalry.
4. If you’re sick, going out and drinking your face off might not be the best plan. You will pay for it for a while. If you do, you might as well make it worth your while.

Lessons for the Men:

1. There’s nothing wrong with buying some pretty ladies bottles of wine and not going over to them.  This makes you intriguing and mysterious. 
2. Don’t break out into a Carlton dance.  Whether it’s as a joke or if that’s seriously how you dance, either way, women will run in the opposite direction.
3. Do make sure to get the lady’s contact information, that way if she doesn’t remember you the next day you have a way to contact her again.

-W.T.

Read our past Tales From A Bar Stool…

There were two prime spots at the bar, so we assumed our positions, ordered two glasses of wine, two desserts to share and took stock of the restaurant. We didn’t have to look far before we spied Lauren Conrad with two friends directly behind us, sans camera crew (unfortunately Brody Jenner was no where in sight). There was a small group of men sitting next to us at the bar and they seemed to know everyone in the restaurant - both staff and guests. Pretty soon they caught our eyes and moved their attention to us by immediately including us in their next round of shots. These men were hot shots - aka… knew they were the shit. The talker of the group (Hot Shot) introduced himself to us and told us he was a main investor in the restaurant and friends with the celebrity owner. He also bore a resemblance to Tyson Beckford and we learned he was originally from Paris - ding ding ding… jackpot.

Unfortunately, the more we talked to him, the more we realized that the reason there were double doors at the entrance to the restaurant was so that his inflated head could get through. He told us that he would give us anything our hearts desired. The Blonde and I looked at each other, obviously thinking the same thing: wishing the shops in Bev Hills were still open so we could take HS up on this offer before he changed his mind. In addition to getting whatever we wanted, he offered to call our bosses and tell them that we would be spending a few more days in LA; he even told us he would pay our bosses for the inconvenience. Oh… AND he would cover our hotel bill for the whole weekend, including the past 2 nights. Is this a regular occurance in Hollywood? Because this just doesn’t seem normal to me.

Two more shots later, he invited us to join him at S-Bar as his guests. Even though, he was getting mildly annoying, like a mosquito flying around your room at bedtime, we agreed to go. He was entertaining if nothing else and we were curious to see where the night would take us.

He had acquired quite the entourage while we were sitting there at the bar and our group had increased to twelve, including two Lakers girls. We were waved right in past the paparazzi and mile long line. It made me feel kind of special, I’m not gonna lie. HS knew everyone in S-Bar too and we already had a table waiting for us. I don’t think he drank normal drinks… he just ordered shots. While he was off at the bar, we were able to take an assessment of the space and who do we spy? Oh.. there’s LC again… we’re hitting all the same spots as her. Her group has grown and now she’s dancing. She’s definitely had a few too many cocktails and, upon a close up look at her, we notice that she’s really not that hot. She looks far older than her 22 years - I’m talking early 30’s, wrinkles and all. Could this be reality tv’s biggest secret? LC is actually 32, but playing a 22 year old? Much like the cast on 90210 back in the day. Yes, I’m starting rumours. We fought the urge to run up to her like school girls and cling on to her, devoting our eternal loyalty to Team Lauren.

While HS was at the bar, we got approached by a couple of really friendly, attractive guys. Enter HS with our shot glasses and the two guys coiled away in fear. They leaned in and profusely apologized for talking to us, saying they didn’t realize we were with “him”. Wow. That’s when we truly realized the power of HS. He really was a somebody, a somebody that you don’t mess with. Now we were getting nervous… how were we going to escape this situation? The obvious answer is agree to go to another bar with him, right?

Next on the list… back to his restaurant to hang out in the private VIP lounge upstairs. I think the idea of possibly bumping into Mr. Beckham helped us in our decision to go. We were getting a tour of the Hollywood every outsider wants to be a part of. Really… how could we say no?

Once again, we walked past the paps and through the velvet rope. The lounge was like another world from the classy restaurant. Red lights, DJ, bass, dancing bodies. Cristal on ice, Grey Goose flowing - already waiting for us at a table. We had just entered an Usher video.  Ummm… I could definitely get used to this. The Blonde and I took up shop at the table and the boys poured us glasses of Cristal. The space was small but it was completely packed and we couldn’t see anyone through the crowd. HS wouldn’t let us leave our table to explore - he took off, with very strict instructions to stay at the table and not let anyone else sit down. Creepy. Once his friends returned, we tried to make our escape. We were halfway out when we bumped into HS, who grabbed my hand and dragged me behind the bar for… more shots, of course. Thank god I was smart and had only done half of all the others, otherwise I could’ve ended up on top of the bar dancing. HS used this opportunity to make his move. He pulled in close and moved with me to the music. Now, there is one thing I’m a sucker for and it’s a man who’s got rhythm. Damn… he could move. Next move - the lean in for a kiss. I tried for as long as I possibly could to dodge his lips but they just kept coming, so I had to fold. Ok… there are two things I’m a sucker for. The second is big, kissable lips. I had to get out of here before he made his next move. My third weakness was on the horizon (actually, I had felt it on my leg) and I didn’t want to go there…

The Blonde and I made our excuses to use the washroom and HS led us downstairs to the now closed restaurant so we could use the empty washrooms there rather than wait in line upstairs. How thoughtful.

We used this time to strategize. We really didn’t want to spend the rest of the night with this dude, there were bigger and better options out there. More bars to visit, more hearts to break.

Option #1: We feign a sickness.
Option #2: We just tell him straight up that we’re going somewhere else.
Option #3: We run… we run so far away.

We went with Option #3. When we opened the washroom doors, we half expected HS to be waiting there for us. Luckily he was no where in sight. Rather than go back outside through the entrance to the lounge, we rushed through the restaurant where staff were cashing out and cleaning up, praying that the doors were still unlocked. Luck was on our side. We dashed out and literally ran down the street, without looking back, into a waiting taxi at the curb. We even ducked down in the back seat as we sped away. It was one of our finer moments.

On to Teddy’s, an A Night At The Roxbury moment and Leo DiCaprio… but that’s another story…

My Lessons From a Bar Stool:

Lessons for the Ladies:

1. Always have an exit plan. You don’t want to get stuck with a guy that you’re not interested in just because you don’t have a way out.

2. Some men offer you the world, doesn’t mean you have to accept it. Accepting all of his gifts may make him feel that he owns you. Just accept the shoes and purse… then run ;).

3. Don’t treat celebrities as idols. They are regular people, treat them as such - as though they were just another person in the bar.

Lessons for the Men:

1. Do ensure you have connections at all the hottest bars in town.  Girls don’t like lines.

2. Don’t brag about how much money and power you have. No one wants to hear it. A little modesty goes a long way.

3. Do treat a woman like the princess she is and make sure she is enjoying herself without imposing on her.

-S.A.

Read our past Tales From A Bar Stool…

But I digress, back to business. We had just ordered our second glasses and were halfway through our appies when “he” made an appearance. I can’t mention exactly who “he” is for fear that he will somehow read this through googling his name and the jig will be up. But I will say this, he’s someone that everyone knows of as a local fixture. Some have never seen him, but all know of him. This is because he bears a striking resemblance to a certain 80’s actor. People actually approach him thinking that he is the real thing. I’m going to leave it at that and refer to him as The Moustache (if that doesn’t ring any bells, then you’ve all got to get your heads checked).

The Moustache and I exchanged looks across the bar and I quickly looked away, feeling my face burning up red. He took up a station at the end of the bar with the young man he was with, his son, who was very handsome indeed. K had started chatting with the older man sitting next to me - as I said earlier, she will talk to anyone. He was regaling us with his work details and was interested in K’s line of work as he could use some of the services she offered. He told us how he had jumped around from job to job - was in investment banking then owned a diamond mining company in Africa and now runs his own “global investment” company, whatever that means. I thought he was a bit full of it and kind of zoned out of the conversation. That’s when I thought I would amuse myself by playing peekaboo with The Moustache. Not literally! Gawd… I’m not that cheesy. I could feel him looking at me though, so I gazed his way every so often and sent him one of those sexy half smiles. At least, I think they’re sexy.

K and I asked for our tab and proceeded to pay the bill when one of the bartenders leaned in to me and said that the gentleman at the end of the bar wanted to buy me a glass of wine. Mission accomplished. Note to self: Coy smiles will seal the deal.

Once I got my glass, I headed over to say thank you, as all appreciative girls do. He gave me his real name, not fake movie star name as I heard he sometimes does to bed helpless women. He introduced me to his son. Hot. Young, tall and hot. They were both rather flirtatious and I got the feeling that this was a regular routine that they played. Regardless, I was enjoying myself. The father/son tag team works well for them. We finished our glasses and they had to leave. I couldn’t help myself though, how often would I be put into this situation again with a hot father/son duo? So I handed them both my business card and actually told them both to get in touch. Bold move. I think it worked. Not 30 minutes after they left, I got an email from the father saying he enjoyed my smile and the next day, the son sent me a Facebook message inviting me to their cabin. Wow. I wonder if I’ll ever live this kinky fantasy out…

My Lessons From a Bar Stool:

For the Ladies:

1. Once again, don’t talk to a man if he’s annoying or dull. You are not obligated to speak to him just because he is sitting next to you at the bar. It will be harder to get rid of him in the long run. Harsh? Maybe.
2. Do send a man coy smiles.
3. Don’t blatantly stare at a man, this will scare him off. A few quick glances and perhaps one lingering look should do the trick.

For the Men:

1. If you send a drink to a woman, don’t leave out her lone friend - it’s rude. You always want to win over the friend. Only exception is if she’s with a big group, then just send one.
2. Do have a drink with your father or son and if you’re both hot, use it to your advantage. It’s a dynamic that women don’t see often and it’s very intriguing.
3. If you’re interested, do send an email within 24 hours - don’t play the 3 day game.

-S.A.

Read our past Tales From A Bar Stool…

The boys opened up the show with their latest hit, Single, which was soon followed by some New Kids classics. I have to say that the boys certainly still know how to perform. I was entertained throughout the entire concert. Their dance moves are still top form, although they have toned it down a bit from their early days. It seemed that Jordan and Joey did most of the singing, followed by Donnie. Danny and Jon held back and let the others steal the show. The worst part of the show was when they held a photo contest after their Click Click Click number. It was just lame and a waste of time. I tuned out. They need to switch that up. Favourites - Tonight, Step by Step and Summertime (yes, the new song)

Yes, I still have a soft spot for each of the boys. I had forgotten how hot Jordan Knight is… did anyone else need to change their panties after his solo of Baby I Believe In You where he crooned in front of the wind machine in an open white shirt? Wow. Hot. I was even attracted to Danny Wood when he busted out some breakdancing. Surprised? I was. He was always a bit of a monkey boy. Joey’s still hot but, as we later found out after the concert, he’s a bit of a diva. Someone should tell him that there are five members in the group, not one. Jon Knight, the shy and quiet New Kid, has grown into a very handsome man with some fabulous arms. And then there’s Donnie Walhberg… still a bad boy.

The crowd at the concert was an odd mix of females. Mainly over the age of 25 but there were definitely some youngsters in the group… possibly just there to see Lady GaGa. I can’t imagine the girls under 25 would remember the New Kids in their prime. The clothes that the girls wore were just as terrible as the outfits at the Madonna concert. Think neon, leg warmers and tight everything. Girls wearing short skirts and tight tops who really shouldn’t be wearing those things - they really need to learn to dress for their figures. I actually cringed.

NKOTB couldn’t have picked a better time for a comeback. I enjoyed their new songs and their old. It was an excellent concert… perhaps even on the same level as Madonna. But I must say, the best part was hanging out with the boys post concert. Can we say dream come true?

Entering the Shark Club was like walking into a meat market. There were men everywhere and they weren’t afraid to check out every single girl walking through those doors. You could feel the testosterone in the room and wading through it was intoxicating.

We instantly went to the bar to grab drinks and I was pleasantly surprised to find that the prices were 2001 prices. Not much of a wine list, but $6.00 for a glass is hard to come by in this town, so I’ll let it slide. We found our group and settled in the middle of room, great location to check out our surroundings. I think the crowd was predominantly from the outer suburbs just in town for the game. They were easy to pick out. Suburbian men are oddly bigger more rugged than city boys. Plus, they brazenly looked at you and smiled. Very approachable. Sadly, men in the city are far more reserved. We managed to motion over a hot guy we had had our eyes on… we certainly know how to pick them… this one had a french accent. Finally, we picked correctly! Montreal, not France. I’m ok with that. He was very sweet and didn’t speak English very well. It was refreshing talking to someone from outside of Vancouver.

As the crowd dwindled and everyone moved on to the game, we debated whether we should stay for some food. After a quick glance at the menu, nothing sounded good, so we decided to move on. There just weren’t enough choices in the appetizer list - nothing we wanted to share.

All in all, I was impressed with the Shark Club and will likely head there again pre-Canucks game.

Shark Club Bar & Grill
180 West Georgia Street

Knowing that I have some commitment issues, when I first read the headline of this story I really felt some compassion for the poor guy. This happened back in October, however, I felt it was good enough to share it with you.

According to the Yomiuiri newspaper, a Japanese man set a fire in the early morning at the resort hotel in Yamanashi Prefecture, just west of Tokyo, where he was due to get married to his fiancee before 80 guests. The 39 year old man had gone along with wedding plans even though he already had a wife. I guess he decided setting a fire would be easier than coming clean. According to the paper, guests at the hotel were evacuated and no one was injured. Although I’d bet his fiancee might now be suffering from some serious commitment issues.

Although this man was already married, which caused a slight twist in my original compassion, I decided to dig a bit further into the reasons people are afraid of marriage. A little self-help if you may. I came across this very informative site: The National Marriage Project. It really is a great read, with topics ranging from cohabitation, divorce, marriage, and child well being. I’ll let you form your own conclusions…

According to an article at askmen.com, men are afraid of marriage (aka commitment) for the following reasons:

1. No More Freedom
2. Loss of Space
3. One Sex Partner, Forever
4. They’ve Been Burned Before
5. The Emotional Baggage
6. Lack of Compromise
7. Loss of Free Time
8. Not Ready for It
9. Can’t Trust a Woman
10. She Applies Pressure

Now, what happens when a woman completely agrees with the above and feels the exact same way? Because let me tell you, I’m hearing this list from my singleton gf’s over and over again. So if this is the case, wouldn’t you both agree to have the perfect partnership, the best of both worlds? Or will those afraid of the C word and all it signifies continue to make the list of most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes?

If you’re still into monogamy for life and you think your man might be dragging his feet to the altar, here are a few good reads:

Closing the Deal: Two Married Guys Take You from Single Miss to Wedded Bliss
Authors:Daniel Rosenberg and Richard Kirshenbaum

He’s Just Not That Into You: The No-Excuses Truth to Understanding Guys
Authors: Greg Behrendt & Liz Tuccillo