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A bar for normal people only, please
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Everyone knows where to go to meet people in this town.
There are a million different bars, restaurants, and clubs in Orlando, and each has its own special brand of clientele. There are the bars where you may or may not end up with some sleazy young professional's hand on your ass before he's even bought you a drink. There are clubs where intoxicated college girls will undoubtedly whip up their shirts to show off their goods just to get a cheap shot of tequila (even if they most definitely should remain clothed). There's a good chance if you hit up I-Bar on a Wednesday night, you may just end up going home with a guy wearing more eyeliner than you are. This categorization of hangouts hasn't been officially printed in any publication, but Orlando natives know it by heart.
I was meandering down Park Avenue yesterday with my friend Brie, nipping in and out of the beautiful and horrifically expensive boutiques, when a salesgirl started to chat with us. This beautiful, tattooed young woman was telling us her latest unbelievable dating horror story, and asked if either of us were seeing anyone. Brie is married (lucky bitch) and I happen to be dating someone. Upon our answers, the salesgirl immediately began to bemoan the fact that there simply aren't any "normal" people left in Orlando, and that if there are, they're in hiding somewhere. Perhaps in a bunker under Baldwin Park. She then capped off her rant by demanding to know where I had met my current manfriend, and I hesitantly replied "Odin's Den".
Odin's Den is a bar in Winter Park specializing in killer draft beer and deafening music. You can play darts, pool, and can smoke inside, all to the dulcet tones of Rage Against the Machine blazing out of the jukebox. There's often live music, which is so loud it's literally impossible to hear yourself think. I had quickly surmised that the possibility of meeting someone there was out of the question, simply because conversation consists of screaming into the other person's ear and trying to communicate via peculiar hand signals. It's easier to just text the person sitting next to you at the bar than to try and converse. Imagine my surprise when I not only met someone there, but started dating them soon after.
So where are all the "normal" people? Where are the bars where the lighting is good, the music is at the perfect level, the barstools are comfy, and there's no messy drunk girl sobbing about her boyfriend two seats over? There has to be a cozy little spot somewhere in this sprawling metropolis where girls and boys who don't feel it necessary to expose body parts or grope complete strangers congregate. If only there were a big, glaring neon sign indicating this site. "Come meet your next significant other here!" We all know where you might find a boy with a pink mohawk and a labret piercing, or where you may be able to scout out a Chanel-clad, bleached blonde cougar prowling for her next husband. If we can bet on a bar where we might meet the next Jenna Jameson, why can't we bet on a bar where we'll meet a guy who will offer to buy us a beer and then carry on an interesting, intelligent conversation?
I personally don't think these places exist, and anyone who thinks that going to certain types of bars guarantees they'll meet Mr. Right is absolutely delusional . It's just not that easy, and chances have to be taken. Every club, bar, and restaurant in this city has its schtick, whether it be indie rock girls with dreads or clean shaven young men wearing Gucci wingtips. However, you can't count on the fact that just because a bar attracts wealthy professional clientele, you're going to meet a nice guy there. My advice is to be as open as possible. You may think downtown is a haven for sleazy frat boys, but don't write it off entirely. Be willing to go to the places you once deemed dateless, because you never know where you might encounter someone who fits into your definition of what's "normal". One person's normal may be another person's disgusting, so the probability of a bar where only the ordinary type hang out is slim to none. Dating is hard work, and meeting someone can sometimes seem impossible. How are we supposed to wade through the hundreds of people we encounter on a night out and find just one who's dateable? When I was single, I thought it would be easier to find a job where I sat around and penned nonsensical fiction pieces and got paid millions than it would be to find a guy worthy enough to be a manfriend. As cliche as it sounds, the old adage "you can't judge a book by its cover" is true in this case- so don't judge a bar by the people waiting at the door to get in. You may see a long line of undesirables clamoring for a cheap vodka tonic, but lurking amongst them may just be your prince in Nike sneakers. Or blood red Doc Martens- depending on what you deem to be your normal.
For more information and reviews on the endless list of bar, nightclubs, and restaurants in Orlando visit Metromix Orlando.
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