On the bright side, as a tall bearded guy I get a lot of fun reactions when kitting in public. The silent confused onlookers are fun, but the enthusiastic middle aged women are the best.
As a fairly good sized very furry man myself, it is amusing to watch some “alpha male” stick man’s brain short circuit as I drink the fruitiest, girliest drink at the bar while looking like I could crush their skull in one hand and drink a beer out of the other. They really don’t know what to do with people that aren’t insecure about their masculinity.
My mum works at a bar and one of her regular punters used to be this highly stereotypical blokey-bloke who was massively homophobic, racist, etc. He was always at the bar, often talking about the gays n shit… So one day I decide to play absolute havoc with him. I turn up at the bar wearing all my loudest brony merch (the prize piece being a backpack in the shape of a ponified Doctor Who, complete with sonic screwdriver), step up to the bar right beside him and get my mum to mix up the pinkest cocktail and drink it through a straw from a nice tall, slim glass.
He looked at me, and all I had to do was give a little smile in his direction to make him practically flee to the other side of the bar. You could see the cogs in his brain whirring, trying to comprehend what effeminate weirdo he was looking at, knowing he couldn’t say shit because it’s the bartender’s son. Fucking hilarious to watch him squirm.
On the bright side, as a tall bearded guy I get a lot of fun reactions when kitting in public. The silent confused onlookers are fun, but the enthusiastic middle aged women are the best.
As a fairly good sized very furry man myself, it is amusing to watch some “alpha male” stick man’s brain short circuit as I drink the fruitiest, girliest drink at the bar while looking like I could crush their skull in one hand and drink a beer out of the other. They really don’t know what to do with people that aren’t insecure about their masculinity.
My mum works at a bar and one of her regular punters used to be this highly stereotypical blokey-bloke who was massively homophobic, racist, etc. He was always at the bar, often talking about the gays n shit… So one day I decide to play absolute havoc with him. I turn up at the bar wearing all my loudest brony merch (the prize piece being a backpack in the shape of a ponified Doctor Who, complete with sonic screwdriver), step up to the bar right beside him and get my mum to mix up the pinkest cocktail and drink it through a straw from a nice tall, slim glass.
He looked at me, and all I had to do was give a little smile in his direction to make him practically flee to the other side of the bar. You could see the cogs in his brain whirring, trying to comprehend what effeminate weirdo he was looking at, knowing he couldn’t say shit because it’s the bartender’s son. Fucking hilarious to watch him squirm.
He’s dead now. No great loss, believe me.
*while drinking the previously mentioned fruity drink