An age-old question

Dear Bartender: I’m a single gay man, reasonably devoted to going to gym to keep in shape so I might be able to attract prey… but I can’t seem to stop eating a shitty diet. Result is decent arms/chest but still unattractive midsection. Love handles and spare tire just won’t go away.  How can a man motivate his diet as much as his gym routine so he isn’t a chronic, pathetic fat-ass loser?

Dear Fat-Ass: There is a well-worn path to better self-esteem for guys like you, but it takes time, and you gotta be willing to put in the hours.

Get old. You’ll be amazed how much better you’ll feel when you see how fat your friends are.

Tingle all the way

Dear Bartender: What does it mean when your hands are always tingling? Is it a sign of alcohol abuse or does it mean you spend too much time on the Internet? Or does it mean you are having a stroke? Or does it mean that you want to do something you have always wanted to do and have yet failed to do? Are you an MD as well as a mixologist?

–Tingling digits

Dear Digits: I’m no MD, but clearly you will be dead within the hour, so I won’t worry about your diagnosis. The rest of you people, especially the alive ones,  heed this advice: Life is far too short. Drink up. Last call comes sooner than you think.

The Bedell

Dear Readers: Necessity is invention’s mama. I was serving iced tea made with hibiscus and rose hip the other day, at a party to send my friend Matt off to India. Someone asked if we could spike it. I tried a few things till I came up with a crackerjack summer cocktail: The Bedell.

2.5 parts vodka
1 part cold hibiscus and rose hip tea, lightly sweetened
1 part fresh squeezed lemon juice.

Serve chilled, over ice. Yum.

Crazy He Calls Me

Dear Bartender: I met this crazy guy the other night in a neighborhood bar. It was rather fortuitous because I was feeling a little suicidal that evening and I told him about it as we were talking. Turns out he’s a former psychologist. I took it as a sign and brought him home with me. We’ve talked since, and he is indeed almost as nuts as I am but here’s my question. If a guy tells you he has a brain tumor should you proceed with the relationship? I’m not sure if he was kidding or not. Should I demand medical records before taking it any further? On the other hand, I’m not looking for long term commitment so it could work out.

— CrazyBus

Dear Lunatic: Anyone who would tease a suicidal person about having a brain tumor of his own is definitely worth getting to know, at least in my book. In fact, it’s the best pick-up line I’ve heard in a long time. Sounds win/win to me, since, if the tumor is real, nursing him through treatment — say, Gamma Knife radiosurgery or something worse (depending on operability) — might take your focus off your own problems. The two of you could turn it into a game, maybe, each trying to outlast the other, with the winner getting the spoils, say, either his tumor in a jar or your suicide note in a pretty frame.

Us crazy people should, after all, stick together, don’t you think?

Keep it coming, people. These are the kinds of questions I like.

Shoot

Dear Bartender: In many bars in the Wisconsin area (and am sure elsewhere) the last shot from the bottle is free. I asked a bartender at a local bar if they do this and he said no, but if I could come up with why this use to be done (and according to him required because of certain health risks or dangers) I could get the last shot free from now on. I was wondering if you knew the reason why this was done.

Dear Wants-a-Freebie: I’ve followed most of your question but I’m still confused: What are the health risks/danger imagined by your b’tender? You get the last shot free and the health risks are… ? It’s his job to cut you off well before one last shot sends you over the edge.

Not that his job is easy, mind you. I’ve had lots of people teetering on the edge of plastered and I’ve had to judge if the next (last) shot will send them into psychoville. I don’t always guess correctly.

That said, I’ve never heard of the practice of giving away the last shot in a bottle. If I were your barkeep I would need a damn good reason to give it to you free, but I might settle for a sexual favor, or at the very least a generous compliment. If your barkeep isn’t into that, try waving a five-spot in his face.

UPDATE 12/20: Read the comments for more (better) info. (What can I say? My research assistant is on vacation.)

Birthday Greetings, Bottle of Wine

Dear Bartender: I would like to share with you and your readers my secrets to staying (and looking!) young. I still can turn the eyes of the girls, and I’m proud of it. And only six gray hairs! (not counting the ones in my nose.)

First: moisturize. (Thank you, ex-wife, for teaching me this. Too bad that’s all I got from the marriage, but that’s another story.) Second: do not ignore the eyebrows! Third: get a dog (good exercise!). Fourth: go to sleep every night with mayonnaise on your face and a raisin on your nose! Seriously. Well, OK, not seriously but actually I haven’t tried it so who knows???!!

ALSO VERY IMPORTANT: Don’t drink, eat well, never sleep late and keep a sunny disposition!

— You’d Never Know I’m Over Sixty-Four! Try it and See!

Dear Old Man: If I go to sleep every night with a raisin on my nose will that be enough to counterbalance that I drink, sleep in on Sundays, frequently have a lousy outlook on life and, uh, I leave my eyebrows in the care of Mom Nature? If not, then I will very much look forward to being an old-looking man with bushy eyebrows and a raisin on his nose.

Who’s with me?

…The Player You Get

Dear Bartender: I think I’m wired differently than most people. When I don’t drink, I’m able to stay numb and impervious to the shit that life throws at me. However, after knocking back a few, I don’t get numb or forgetful — just the opposite. I guess I make a shitty alcoholic. So whatcha think…are there 12 steps in my future?

Signed,

Sober and Numb

Dear Not-so-numb: Just because drinking makes you miserable doesn’t make you an alcoholic. Maybe you’re just an angry drunk. Angry drunks only need however many steps get them out out of the bar and into a cab. I suggest you take a stool near the door.

C’mon In, the Water’s Fine

Dear Bartender: You’ve heard of guys who are pee shy, yes?

Have you heard of the opposite?

I can’t tell you how difficult it is to stand there, my bladder about to burst, waiting forever in a public bathroom for someone to come in. It can be painful.

I have to plan my whole life around this. I don’t drink anything for five hours before I go to bed (I live alone). I stop at the train station on my way to work for some relief (if I’m lucky, it’s crowded) and again on the way home. On weekends I usually go to a Dunkin’ Donuts about ten minutes away. If I absolutely must I’ll go on a crowded street (that only happened once). And thankfully I’ve never resorted to a refreshing dip in the public swimming pool — though I won’t rule it out.

I know that this has got to stop.

Can you help?

Dear Pee Bold: Install a live webcam in your bathroom. I’ll even publish the URL here on this site if you want. I’m sure you’d find a lot of people happy to assist.