Hi, my name is Jared… and I have a problem.
I’m not entirely sure when my affinity for buying other people shots began, but I do know that it exists, and it’s rampant. I don’t even get excited when I look at my paycheck anymore because I know that I won’t personally get to enjoy a sizable chunk of it – that cash instead transforming into a liquid and flowing down the gullet of one of my “I hang out with you when I’m going out” friends, chased down by a bar lime so underripe it’s like chewing on marzipan.
Now don’t get me wrong, buying a shot for a friend is completely acceptable if this person is going to get you back later in the night. For example, I bought Will deFries a “Blue Wave” a month or two back, and he repaid me with hatred that persists to this day. Usually you should be getting repaid in drinks, but I understand his response due to a Blue Wave being a two-part shot with a surprise ending.
From a logical standpoint, it makes sense why I buy so many shots in general: I’m not a mixed drink man. They’re too sweet and take too long to finish compared to how drunk they get you. Hell, I take so long to drink a Tequila Sunrise that it might as well be a Tequila Sunset. Sure, I’ll enjoy a nice G&T, whiskey sour, or margarita on occasion, but when I’m out at the bars, I stick to straight beer with periodic shots thrown in (imagine my excitement when I show up to beer-and-a-shot nights). This leads to me heading over to the bar at least three times a night to buy a shot for myself.
Therein lies my dilemma. You see, for some reason I have always felt, and continue to feel, like going up to a bartender and asking for one shot is taboo. To me, taking shots is such an inherently social event that taking one alone is akin to a wedding with no bride, or riding a ferris wheel by yourself at the St. Patrick’s day carnival when I was fourteen because I witnessed my ex-girlfriend give an over-the-pants handjibber to that bastard foreign exchange student Claude. So naturally, whenever I go take a shot, I invite someone to take one with me with no intention of being paid back. And that, friends, is how I end up spending twice as much as I should at the bar at least two times a week. This gross overpayment is why I must retire from the game altogether. Cold turkey.
I fully understand how my disdain for mixed drinks got me into this mess. I’m man enough to admit, though, that’s not the only culprit here. I don’t know how much y’all read Total Frat Move, but it’s pretty well-documented that I have no shame. I mean, just look at some of my greatest hits caught on tape and that becomes pretty apparent.
If I care so little about what people think about me that I’m willing to jump into a trash can and yell at passersby and publicly take a shot of a wringed-out bar rag (which was free, otherwise I would have bought two), why do I care what a bartender thinks of me for doing something that many people do every time they go out? Is it because it helps me feel like less of an alcoholic? No, that can’t be it, because I’m still ingesting the same amount of alcohol. Then maybe it’s the bringing someone down to those deep, cold depths alongside me that gets me off? I JUST DON’T KNOW.
All of this wouldn’t necessarily be a problem if every so often, even half the time, somebody I offered to buy a shot for said “no.” That’s literally never happened, though. People just can’t say no to shots, and for me, that means when I take a shot, I’m always paying for at least two.
And so today marks my official retirement from buying shots for others. Blue Waves are an exception, though..
Image via Shutterstock