All Girls Will Be Cheated On

Yesterday I attended my program orientation for the School of Continuing and Professional Studies, which included an informational fair, a welcome speech by the dean, a session on facilities and resources available, and a separate session specific to my public relations major. It was a flashback to my UCLA orientation, when I first walked into a room where I didn't know anybody, completely lost. Because the orientation consisted of other majors, we were given color-coded ribbons for us to identify other students in our program. I met several other girls with the red ribbons that were assigned to our program, and surprisingly, 3 out of 4 were from California. To show you what a small world we live in, I met one girl who was from Orange County, graduated from UCLA in 2005, and was in the Communications program. She was exactly like me! Anyways, I'm excited to start school next Saturday (no more sleeping on Saturdays).


Free stuff from orientation. Chip clip, highlighter, water, pen, card holder, stapler, bobcat tattoo, mini first aid kit, pens, and a cardholder key chain from LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender) for the hell of it.

Following orientation, I met my friends up in the Financial District (downtown) for happy hour. It was around 8pm so the area isn't as lively as it is during the daytime with all the finance people zipping around. I strolled through the quiet streets in search of Stone Street Tavern, and here and there, I'd see some people standing outside of the several bars that I passed. All of a sudden, I hear this loud roar of chatter and see tons of people standing on the street, alongside rows of tables seated with people eating and drinking. For the most part, it was a sausage fest, with men in dress shirts in all different shades of blue.


Photo obtained from NY Times. Daytime scene of Ulysses' outdoor seating.

I was on Stone Street but I couldn't see the Tavern. I squeezed my way through and eventually found it next to Ulysses, a jam-packed pub that caters to the mostly I'm-so-stressed-I-need-a-couple-drinks-after-work people. So let me skip to the part that has to do with the title. While my friends and I were inside the bar talking to each other, this drunk, white-to-the-point-that-he-looks-albino guy in his mid-twenties comes stumbling over to my friend and talks to her, pinning her to the wall with his one arm that he used to prop himself up. Somehow he starts slurring about how all girls are idiots. Upon hearing that, I (offended and ready to put him in his place) asked him how he could make such a stupid statement and if someone just screwed him over. He basically said that girls will "bang any guy knowing that he's an ass," and therefore that makes us girls all idiots. Then he continued with his rant, stating that all girls will be cheated on by their boyfriends...Whatever! My boyfriend would have never done that to me! "No, he cheated on you. You will be cheated on!" Is that supposed to be some sort of curse?! Damn that inebriated idiot for making me question my fate! I should have known better than to engage in a rational conversation with an animal.

Maybe in the twisted dating scene of NYC where people are always in a rush to be somewhere or do someone, where "real" relationships never materialize, that cheating statement might be true. But I refuse to believe that my past fairy tale relationship could have ended up in tragedy! I know that there are good guys out there who would use their brain-encased head instead of their one-eyed head and stay true to their girlfriends...though they might just be harder to find.

On a side note, this crazy guy who was dancing by himself asked me if I "party," making a gesture with his finger on the side of his nose. At first I asked him if he meant party as in clubbing and thought he just had an itch on his nose, but then he asked me the same question with the same gesture. Oooooh, party...Hell no, I'm straight edge! I can't believe how socially acceptable snorting powder is becoming, with overworked people using it for energy purposes. The guy continued to dance by himself and later blurted out to me, "I'm not Indian, f*ck that!" Wow, I wasn't even talking to him or saying anything about his ethnicity. That's why you don't do drugs, kids!