I know I am going to get a million misdirected hits for this, but so what?

So Friday, I went to this mixer in Scottsdale. There is one about every week, and it’s a good opportunity to get out and mix it up. It is also a lot like being in a frat again. Beers, snobbery, no hookups. The differences:

1. i have to pay for the beers as they come. No kegs.
2. Scary close calls with police. Wait. That is EXACTLY the same
3. the snobbery is mostly from me instead of at me. Instead of rich bitch sorority girls being offended at my poor white trashiness, it’s me being polite, but getting the fuck out of conversations with home day care providers, hairdressers, and retail workers. I am an ass. I know.
4. Hookups. This is the real difference. The tables are almost completely turned. Women actually want to talk to me. Women actually want to go out with me. Women actually want to do me that very night.
5. As if that isn’t different enough, I have sent them away. It’s because the right here right now ones have all been 50–somethings. One of the ones on Friday, well, the dentures and wig were immediate deal breakers (plus the kid in prison). One was almost tempting. Late forties maybe. Built. Monied. Drunk. Rubby. Skirt hiker. I turned this ^^^ down – she was drunk, plus, the whole looming Madonna thing, even if it’s completely imaginary. Plus, the drunk thing. If you NEED to be drunk, I NEED to say no.

Me: *relates the above story* I said no.
Hot secretary in my office: You dumbass!

So THAT part is EXACTLY like being in a frat