The Ultimate Bargoing Code of Conduct

Saturday night I went out dancing with some friends. Clearly I forgot how much fun it can be to make your way down an inviting set of stairs into a dimly-lit world rife with opportunities for making new friends.

Translation: we descended – both physically and literally – into a dark hole of a bar that turned out to be a total meat market full of scary-lookin’ people who seemed intent on hitting on us.

The crowd was, um…….varied. Without sounding arrogant, I can honestly say that I was one of the top 10% of patrons, looks-wise. In this city of perfectly perky poofs, that happens to me very infrequently, so the ego boost was a nice way to start the bar-going experience. My companions for the evening all agreed that I and the other guy in our group could pretty much get anyone we wanted.

The problem: finding anyone worth wanting.

On the bright side, however, we were in search of a good rug to cut, and we most assuredly found it. Rumour had it that Palms bar on Oxford Street was a haven for those in search of cheesy 80’s tunes and hassle-free attitude. Quite honestly, the less-than-attractive crowd helped us focus on the task at hand – tripping the light fantastic – and we set about showing the kind of results that can only be achieved through years and years of daggy dance training. We were pumped, we were prepared, we were primed, we did not disappoint. From “Fame” to “9 to 5,” with the occasional dose of classic 90’s like “Nobody’s…” and “It’s Not Right…,” we were pulling a Richard Simmons: sweatin’ to the oldies.

Hours of hijinks ensued, and I think it’s fair to say that I had the best dance night I’ve enjoyed since moving here. Never one to let an opportunity for growth and development pass me by, however, I put some thought into what constitutes the “right” kind of bar behaviour. Sort of a personal code of conduct designed to optimize my bargoing experience:

• I will not vogue.
• I will do the patented 360-degree dance that lets me drink in the view of the entire dancefloor while retaining the pretense of simply dancing.
• I will not dirty dance with any target, no matter how drunk I am or how cute he is. Note: not coincidentally, the former tends to expedite the latter.
• I will lip synch to every song I know – thereby impressing targets with my vast knowledge of all tunes cheesy, classic, or current.
• I will not cruise the washrooms before midnight.
• I will celebrate vigorously upon hearing the opening strains of any Canadian chanteuse.
• I will not leave the bar without telling my friends.
• I will ditch those same friends in a nanosecond if there’s a chance of picking up.
• I will not take my shirt off until I lose 15 pounds, no matter how hot and sweaty the bar gets.
• I will play hard to get in the event that any target takes an active interest in me.
• I will not let targets tweak my nipples on the dancefloor.
• I will reconsider the above if said target is cute.
• I will not show my underwear to anyone who is younger than said underwear.
• I will make a request of the DJ if he’s cute.
• I will not have sex in the DJ booth.
• I will visit the same bartender repeatedly if he’s hot.
• I will not hit on anyone who’s been on God’s green earth less than the length of time I’ve been a school graduate (a number which, at the present time, stands at 19 years).
• I will avoid standing in black light so as to ensure that any lint (normally unseen to the naked eye) isn't magnified and highlighted for all potential targets to see.
• I will not pash anyone in full view of the entire bar.
• I will exercise any pashing activities discreetly in the privacy of the handicapped washroom.

There you have it. If that doesn’t guarantee an awesome bargoing experience, I’m not sure what will.