To the man terrorizing the woman at the bar who is mouthing “help me,”

Consider your appearance before leaving the house, in your case something other than sweat pants would’ve been a good choice. Right now, you look like the guy who was about to dump a body, realized you didn’t actually have a body to dump and came in here to pick one up.

Also, if you wanted this woman to take your advances seriously maybe you shouldn’t have led with, “My wife has a restraining order out against me, so I decided to come here instead.” While honesty is always appreciated your particular brand of crazy would perhaps be better suited to a therapist’s office, rather than another shot of Jack.

Learn to read body language. If the woman you’re interested in is edging away from you, has her hand on her purse and is staring at the door, maybe you should read that not as, “She wants to get me home immediately,” but rather, “I am terrifying this poor woman.”

Know your limits. Are you the kind of guy who can get away with a lame pick up line like, “Would you like to see my tropical fish tank?” In short, are you Rob Lowe? Or do you and your pedophile glasses give off the notion that any offer to see your dwelling should be read as a threat?

Note the actions of the woman you’re with, did she tell you that she doesn’t speak English when you sat down, lapse into some unknown dialect for a few minutes and then order another drink in perfect, accent-less English? She doesn’t want to talk to you.

Look around you, is there any other female in the bar besides this woman and the waitresses? No? Then chances are everyone else has noticed her too, and is watching you. When you were in the washroom I was asking if she needed assistance and if I should call her a cab, and when she insisted she was fine we developed a signal just in case.

Know that I’ve gone in the back to make popcorn not because I see you as non-threatening, but because bartender Steve and I like to treat the sorts of things like a movie, a rare cinematic event right up until we have to threaten to call the police. It’s not just your imagination, Steve is actually staring at you.

So, if you can’t even be bothered to put on real pants when you go out to terrorize the female population, why don’t you just do us all a favour and stay home and clean that fish tank? The thin shred of patience that I’ve still got a hold of thanks you.

Sincerely,

One Angry Waitress

God is in aisle 16. Stockholm, Sweden 2015.