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I am a 20-something. This is a very true and honest statement. I am out of college, I work and I am even a little lost. I go to bars.

The Rock – our very own little local cheers. I have my very own seat where you can find me if you are looking. The regulars know my name (which says something, I know…) and I don’t always have to place my order before it shows up in front of me. But still, there are always those nights where you either end up somewhere different or the crowd at your local spot is just not quite right.

I have found a solve to this not well known crowd. While being a 20-something, I tend to wear very little make-up and keep my long hair pulled back in to a messy ponytail. Sometimes I get carded for R-rated movies…okay, almost every time I go I do.

For some reason, men like to drink heavily and convince themselves that young girls desire them. This is not true. Getting hit on my slimey dudes is not something that I look forward to, I would really much rather pay for my own drinks and not be touched or sweated on (reason 54645321 that I am a failure to my generation and I despise “clubbing”). So what do you do when they don’t get the hint?

You tell them you’re 17.

“Oh, I just have a really good fake ID – these bartenders”, followed by an eye roll.

They RUN in the opposite direction.

This tactic has been an old steady of mine for quite a few years. I manage to easily shake slime balls with a sweet smile and fire in my gut. I don’t feel bad; I don’t like to be hit on.

Looking young has advantages and disadvantages – but for now I will hold on to this youthful appearance for as long as I can.

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