Last night my girlfriend and I were invited out to The L Bar. For me, L Bar was an old haunt and a place where I had gone with previous (and current) significant others, and for my girlfriend, it was somewhere she felt comfortable to be herself, dip her toes into the gay community, and meet attractive single women. Yet, last night wasn’t just another Saturday at the bar; it was THE LAST Saturday night, before they closed their doors and handed over the keys to the new owners.

On the way to the bar, my girlfriend and I discussed memories we had there, both recalling several (and by several, I mean almost monthly) brawls that we had witnessed over the years that we had been going. We joked about how long it would be before a fight broke out tonight. Once we got there, we met up with a couple of friends who also brought up said fights and we starting taking bets. Sure enough, not half an hour after we arrived, a fist flies and four to seven girls tackle each other while swinging wildly just to connect with something. These girls were ‘escorted’ out (ie, lifted up and thrown out of the bar) while we all just sat back and tried to decide whether to laugh or just shake our heads. Before we headed out for the night a second fight broke out and those girls were also ‘escorted’ out as well. (The best part was when ‘semi-famous’ girl among us got punched in the face, then managed to escape, just in time for some random to get pulled into it all.)

Of course, on the way home girlfriend and I get to talking about why girls are so f-ing dumb. I’m definitely not trying to insult anyone who has been in a bar fight. I came close to getting into one myself, at this exact same bar, years ago. The circumstances were a tad different: my then girlfriend was being felt up at the bar by someone who was suppose to be a mutual friend. Frankly, I still contend that if this were the 200 years ago, a slap with a glove or a challenge to a showdown would have been appropriate. Last night, however, went a little something like this:

“Did you just glance at my girlfriend?”
“What? I wasn’t even looking that way.”
“Yeah, but my buddy alcohol said you did.”
“Man, that’s just stupid.”
“Did you just call me stupid?”

BAM! There go the fists. Oh, and guess who gets a bloody nose? The girl who was just trying to get out of the way. The second exchange was more of drunken stumbling, followed by “Hey, watch where you going, you stepped on my shoe!”, “Actually you bumped into me!”, and we’re off.

Seriously?! Is it really that important to get that sloshed that everyone who walks by is obviously trying to hit on your (not that great looking, by the way) girlfriend? Or even better, that defending your shoe’s honor now includes an ass-beating? I’m all for sticking up for yourself and the ones you love, but really?

My girlfriend did make two very interesting points:

1. We have only seen one fight at another bar that accommodates both the gay and lesbian population and usually has an equal number of both attending.
2. How are the stable/rational girls trying to find another stable/rational girl to date supposed to feel safe to approach someone, when a mere look could warrant the swinging of a fist?

My assumption is that it is the sheer number of women who were mostly likely in the ‘bitch’ part of their cycle. Or maybe it is the fact that pretty much everyone has slept with everyone else there (if we’re talking in terms of six degrees from Kevin Bacon). Or maybe it’s the amount of alcohol combined with a fair number of exes thrown together in a place where they used to fight that produces this mayhem of anger and stupidity.

Whatever the combination is that has got these “defenders of shoes and girlfriends” ready and willing to throw a punch, I think its all just a tad ridiculous, overdramatic, and petty … or maybe it’s that I’m just getting old.

The L Bar will be reopening in the near future with an all new Thursday night party. Watch this space.