A Strongly Worded Letter To The Creepy Old Man At The Bar

Dear Midlife Crisis,

As much as we all love half-price pitchers of mediocre beer (at best) I’m super confused why you’re here. As if I didn’t have enough problems with sketchy college guys now I have to deal with a whole extra generation? While some people are totally okay with a huge age difference, they aren't going after guys in old tee-shirts who won’t even shell out for a regular priced drink. While some of you know how to keep to yourself, there is no reason for you to even be here on a Thursday night. You take up bar space and your lingering gaze makes me extremely uncomfortable.

I get that you may live in the same town and whatever but some things are completely sacred for college students. Like Thursday nights at the dive bar. Honestly I don’t understand who would even want to go to a local college bar if they are old and don't have a 10am class to sleep through the next day. 

Nothing is worse than waiting for your vodka soda and having an old dude approach you and try to act smooth. You’re not fooling anyone and I’m clearly not amused. When I shoot you an absolute bitch face as you try to have me guess your age and then I try to get the bartenders attention, that should be a sign. A sign that I want nothing to do with you. Of course I feel like every time I have a creeper approach me at the bar I’m dealing with a female bartender who will not give me the time of day. By the time I get my drink, and consequently chug it, I would have aged enough that the dude doesn't seem so creepy.

I’m not saying when I’m older I won’t be at the bar on random days drinking but for the love of all things Chanel, I am in no way going to be at a college bar. So if I can’t see myself at your age sitting right next to you then in no way am I going to waste any second of my youth and new mini skirt entertaining the idea of listening to you. 

The lesson here is: if you find yourself somewhere where the average age of everyone else is about twenty years younger than you please leave and reevaluate your life with a six-pack of Coors Light in your own basement.


A betch who’s marrying for looks/money and you have neither

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