#NerdsUnite: Imma bag me a Harvard boy! (Live tweet bar crawl) RESULTS

OOOHHHH my good god ... last night = fail. Epic. Epic. Epic. FAIL!!!! First off, if you didn't know what was going down - I basically live tweeted a bar crawl in Harvard Square and analyzed how Harvard boys bag a babe. (Read more here)

Needless to say, I didn't get bagged.

Like at all.

Like ... not a single dude approached me.

Mind you too - I was looking SUPER cute!! As humbly as possible, but chicks know when they leave the house and they are rockin it - holy fuckerdy I was rooocckkkiiinnn' it!!!!

So, first stop - I went to Charlie's Kitchen in Harvard Square. (Again, the purpose of the experiment was to bag me a Harvard boy - so the closer I stayed to their home base, the easier this was supposed to be. I was very genuinely curious if their style of pick up was going to be different. I had very literally no idea, but was curious to explore - hence the experiment.)

The inside area of the bar was pretty dead, but the outside was POPPIN!!!!!! Loads and loads and loads of people. Unfortunately however, my ratio going in wasn't in my favor - pretty much everyone there was either part of a couple, or way out of my age range.

Zoinks.

I ordered a blue moon and sat at the bar.

I popped on twitter a bit, but was incredibly conscious to not stay on my phone too long to appear "bitchy" or like I was waiting for someone. I frequently looked around the room, and smiled - even catching the eye of a few guys.

Then I sat and waited ... and waited ... and waited ... nada.

Fine, I thought, lemme at least get up to use the restroom (too much ice tea from earlier).

I stand up and I feel the air displacement of snap ... snap ... snap ...

Mother fuckers!! ALL these dudes turned to stare, but not a one said a damn thing.

I REFUSE REFUSE REFUSE to continue to wear the pants when it comes to me dating. For reals, I ALWAAYYYYSSS have to approach duderinos, and I'm fucking over it man. Grow a god damn pair of balls and say hello, how are you. Or even in the case of Cute Boy Chicago (which was OMG OMG OMG OMG OMFG the best sex I have had in YEAARRSS) comment on something you see me wearing, or having. Whatevs!!

I am the MOST approachable person in the fucking WORLD!!! I rock vans or flip flops - I drink beer, will have a 95% chance of having beef jerky or a slim jim in my hand at any given moment.

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. This shit makes me feel so lonely, man. DUDES DON'T FUCKING TALK TO ME!!!!!

Hence why I dated such douches in my early 20s - they were very literally the only ones that ever said anything to me at a bar.

I'm serious - I know people get pissy about "oh pretty girl problems" but this shit makes my HEART HURT, and is also the reason why I love online dating; guys at least know what they are getting into.

I feel like I live in this cage sometimes. People just consistently stare at me, the weirdoes will come and up say something - but normal guys don't approach unless they're really drunk.

Fuck me, man - so that happened. I then left the kitchen place, and per a twitter suggestion headed over to John Harvards Brew House. The place was again, pretty poppin. I walked over to the bar, and asked the cutest single dude if "this seat is taken?"

He looks up, smiles, says no - and I proceeded to sit down.

I order a house Belgian white ale, and proceed to watch Sports Center hoping one of the dudes at the bar will ask me which team I am rooting for. (Or whatever it is that dudes do when they see a chick watching sports center.)

A few minutes go by, and I can hear the cute single dude cracking his knuckles.

He finishes his meal, and continues to crack.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

I anxiously await for him to say something ... I can FEEL his eyes piercing my profile.

There is some sort of commotion between him and the bartender, I don't hear it. I think he asks him if he wants another beer.

Next thing I know a credit card is slapped down on the table.

FMMMLLLLLLLLL, I thought. Cute single dude is leaving.

He gets up, stares at me - we locked eyes ... and nothing.

He left.

Like literally. Right then and there - boom. Done.

WWWHHHHYYYYYYYYYYY didn't you say anything you fucking whackadoodle noodle?!?!?!?!?!?!

A few more minutes go by, and two more duderinos sit down in his place. The one closest to me sees me watching Sports Center and begins cracking his knuckles.

I SWWEAARRR I've never had one dude do that to me at a bar, let alone two!!

His body language is very open towards me, placing his left arm on the chair to the left of him (he was to my right with one chair in-between us).

I wait a half hour, after now consuming almost 3 beers in less than 2 hours, I was starting to feel buzzed.

<tangent> I SWEAR I was starting to feel buzzed even off that first Blue Moon. Must be all the walking I'm doing. </tangent>

I stand up to use the restroom, as I ask for my check.

I count ...

1 ...

2 ...

3 ...

4 ...

4 heads turned.

I come back a few minutes later to the bar, and linger as I pay giving not only the guy next to me, but ANY of the other 4 a chance to say something.

Nope.

Nada.

I CAN SEE YOU STARING AT ME YOU FUCKING IDIOTS!!! STOP STARING!! SAY HI!!!!

Again, I have ZERO problem going up to dudes, but I'm fucking over it, man. I want to be the chick when it comes to dating. You might not have to open my car door, or whatevs - but at least approach me, make the first move. I am done with growing the pair of balls and having to approach a guy. Role reversals bore me. I play in a boys club all day every day, I want to be the girl when it's my time to just be.

LET ME BE THE GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I then left ready to head back to the hippie commune and wipe away the memory of that entire evening. Harvard boys SERIOUSLY need to grow a fucking pair.

On my way back, anger took over at an obscene rate. I REFUSE to accept this situation as happening. I can manifest an ENTIRELY new life for myself in 21 months, I can manifest a good guy in this city.

I hopped on OKCupid using their new location integrated app and sent out a broadcast.

"Grabbing a beer in Harvard Square - who's game to play?"

A few minutes go by the results start coming in.

Meh, not my type.

Meh, too old.

Meh, too young.

Meh, can't meet now.

Woah, I don't want to meet ever.

After about 15 minutes one comes in from a relatively cute looking duderino with seemingly mild manners.

"I'd love to grab a beer! I'm free now. You game?"

You had me at game - DONE!!!

I agree to meet him a few blocks away, and about a half hour later while I am sitting at the bar I hear, are you Jen?

Hello! I say with a hug.

The dude IMMEDIATELY turns BRIGHT red. Like BRIGHT BRIGHT red.

FML. Seriously dude? Is this happening right now?

Simmer donna ... take a breather.

I walk over to the bar tables - here let's sit here by the window.

I continue to drink my bud as he orders a beer.

I then proceed to sit there for the next 20 minutes with about as much excitement as watching paint dry. For REALS!! This guy not only had an alarmingly negative state of consciousness, but FUCKKKK he was boring. Dudes, he brought up my tattoos and then told me he couldn't get one - but he had a friend once who had one of his get fucked up. I then tell him that I just came back from Chicago and how much I LOVED it, and he proceeded to tell me about the time DMB dumped poop from their bus into the river hitting a boat of people.

Really? Does poop EVER need to come up on a first date??!?

My excitement only grew once I realized there was an outlet next to the table so I could at least kill two birds with one stone and get my charge on.

I sat there with this duderino for two beers and very literally wanted to put needles in my eyes. He works for a tech start up, and is totally one of those guys who is consistently going after "the next best thing" without realizing those that come upon the "next big thing" ARE the next big thing. They don't chase the curve, they become it. You can't necessarily plan it, there is an organic component to it, and of course social engineering - wait, stop going on a tangent Jen.

I was so so so so so so so so sooooo done at that point. You have no idea.

I then unplug my phone, get up to leave - and he asks to walk me out.

Fine, whatever, be a gentleman.

I use the restroom, he walks me outside and as I go in for a hug, he goes in for a kiss.

WOOOAAHHHHH!! Hold the fucking phone kissy mckisser-son. What on EARTH clued you in that I was kosher with a kiss?

Oh good god, I half hugged him at that point, said I had a lovely evening - and boom that was it.

Worst. Night. Ever.

Seriously, not only do Harvard boys not have a pair of fucking balls - but the OKC dude COMPLETELY misread all of my signals.

At least I was able to sexy skype with a former flame in LA when I got home. Good bless technology. I swear it's the only thing that keeps me going.

#fml

On a semi-unrelated note ... thank you all SOOO much for the tweets during the bar crawl. I hit a new record with 193 total. I apologize in advance for not posting them all - that is just wayyyyy too many screen shots. Keep on keepin on nerds. Gimme 24 hours and I'll get back up on the horse. Maybe.