The Cat in the Hat

My buddy suggested that we should go to some-pick-up-bar-with-girls. That usually means I end up in a stupid bar with stupid music and stupid sorority girls. I just hate that "pick-up bar" scene. It is always weird, I get bored by simple-minded soro-girls and feel like I'm wasting my time. I always end up feeling awkward and old, wondering why the hell do I still do this to myself.

But this time I had the Hat.


Fedora hats are classic fashion accessories. From The Godfather to Indiana Jones, they spell class and adventure.

And I have one of those.

It is a magical Hat. It gets nice comments everytime we go out. It makes the wearer cooler, more secure of himself, more attractive to the girls and not desperate. The Hat carries a persona with it, a Cool Cat, too cool.


We ended up at a stupid bar with stupid music and stupid sorority girls. By the end of the night I was standing on the side of the dance floor, sipping one of many drinks that were more expensive than they should and had less liquor than I needed. I was watching the stupid soro-blondes dance to something that can only be described as skatological music.

And there was a girl on the other side of the dance floor. We made eye contact, and she smiled. She started dancing, clearly moving towards me. I responded by dancing while keeping some distance. I took my Hat off, and with it in my hand, invited her to get closer.

She started dancing closer and closer to me, going around each other in guaguanco fashion. I responded by putting the Hat on her head, and she tilted it forward giving me a sensual stare.

I know the drill, so I started dancing away from her. As long as she is wearing the Hat, she knows she is mine. She took the only reasonable course of action: started to dance towards me trying to call my attention with sensual movements.

Maybe I should pick up ballroom dancing.

She came close to me, each of us spinning around each other with decreasing radius like a satellite that touches the atmosphere, until we were face to face, burning. And the crappy song was over. "Wow", she seemed to say with her eyes.

I asked for her name, and repeated it after her: a mnemonic technique. It failed. I forgot her name as soon as she started talking talking talking to me and I realized that either she was mentally handicapped, intellectually impaired, retarded or from a sorority. "You are so romantic." she said. "Your curly hair is so pretty." she said. After her long pathetic excuse of trying to hit on me I had already decided that I have scrapped off gum off the sole of my shoes with rocks smarter than her.

The Hat can't stand dumb bitches.

I'm cooler than that, after all, I have the Hat. She was attractive, my drunken-self decided; but she was a fucking dumb bitch, my Hat responded. I could fuck a dumb bitch, couldn't I? Couldn't I?

"You are so intelligent" she said. That felt like shit. Not any kind of shit, but a piece of shit floating in shallow water: low in density, superficial. I have standards, Hat decided, I can't hook up with a girl like this.

Her soro-blonde friend came to inform her that it was time to go. "Too bad it was so short, wasn't it?". Whatever. I said bye with a lame hug. "Stay romantic" she said as she left with her sorority crowd.

And it was right there that I realized that the only thing I had said to her in the whole intercourse was during the short name exchange. She tried so hard to hit on me that she didn't even let me talk. She must be really desperate, I thought as I took off the Hat and put it on the table.

Out of nowhere, she reappears and grabs my hand and kisses it.

What the fuck was that role reversal!?!?

As she leaves out of the door, I snap out of the role-reversal confusion realizing that I am desperate, very desperate, and I must have been out of my mind for not asking for her phone number. I tried to run after her, nearly tripping down the stairs. I came back up after spending several minutes trying to find her. My friend was ready to leave so I grabbed my Hat and looked at it: a blessing and a curse.

I'm too old for these things, why do I always do this to myself?, I thought as I put the Hat back on.

On my way out of the club I heard someone said "That is a cool Hat."