Introducing our latest column, The Arts of the Bachelor. (You know, like Bachelor of the Arts?) Plucked from Twitter, the great equalizer, Nathan Simpson is snarky, womanizing and a bit of a button-pusher. In other words, he’s the perfect person to document the trials and tribulations of his love affair with the world’s most (un)hip suburb. Check back the second Wednesday of every month for his musings…
In Phoenix, the best place to start a good day drink is Switch. We call it brunch, but the menu is hit or miss, so I generally advise newcomers to eat beforehand or simply soak in the nourishment of a $3 carafe of Bloody Mary, and the 14 garnishes involved. I invited the lady I had been dating for just over a month to join myself and a few friends. Let’s call her “Scarlet A.”
Ladies, a word of advice in case we should ever date: If we are dating and I invite you to meet my friends, it’s either because I like you or I want to show you off. I can say with a high degree of certainty that it will never be because I’m trying to set you up with one of them.
I met Scarlet A on an online dating site. She was sexy in that hipster-girl-in-the-professional-world kind of way: Dark hair, light eyes, bangs, tight jeans, occasional smoker and not afraid to bike anywhere downtown. In addition, she was funny, smart, had her own place full of vintage furniture, a puppy and worked as a therapist. She really seemed to have her sh$t together and after a stint of dating some crazies, she seemed like a nice change of pace for me. In hindsight, I can offer the advice that if you’ve never dated someone in the mental health field, keep it that way; seems crazy attracts crazy, even on the treatment end.
Our day drinking turned into night drinking, as it often does and after hops between Bikini Lounge (where Scarlet A nearly got us kicked out with her drunkenness), Cycle and finally The Lost Leaf, Scarlet A and I had lost everyone in our group and picked up my (now former) friend Fixie McVeenek.
On the way into The Lost Left there was a bit of an argument between Scarlet A and I over her display of intoxication. I knew the issue was too hot for me to handle in a cool fashion, which may have led to me giving more attention than necessary to My Favourite Barista, (who happened to arrive when we did) than to Scarlet A. As we enjoyed a cigarette on the patio, My Favourite Barista pointed out that Scarlet A and Fixie McVeenek were getting quite chummy. I told her not to worry, Fixie isn’t that kind of guy. Fixie is the kind of guy who will buy you dollar PBRs at Bikini on a Sunday night when you’re broke. He’s the kind of guy who will make sure your bike fits in his trunk when you need a ride, even when it won’t. The, somehow under my nose, My Favourite Barista returns from the restroom to report that Scarlet A and Fixie were gone.
I’m a rational guy and I rationally remembered that because she has a puppy and I’m a part-time dog walker, I had a key to her apartment. Unfortunately, she had locked the deadbolt from the inside, which is how I became “that guy.” You know – the one pounding on his lady’s door at 3 am yelling, “I know he’s in there! Open the door!”
Who does this kind of thing actually happen to? Your favorite bachelor, that’s who. Does Fixie McVeenek not understand the pull I have in the shady underbelly of the hipster world? I have connections. I have dive bar connections. I have coffee shop connections. I have thrift store connections. You just try McV, to get a saliva-free latte in this town, a-hole.