So an Aspergirl walks into a Biker Bar...

Long ago when I was 22, my biker boyfriend decided to introduce me to the gang.

Now bear in mind... I had never been around bikers. I was intimidated. I was green and new to that kind of life. I’m also autistic, so knowing what to do in social situations can be hard, and often they go wrong. Or totally right by accident. The latter is usually how my life goes.

So we get on the Harley, I got my leathers, it’s a beautiful day. We go down into Kentucky to meet his crew.

Out in the country, biker clubhouse, miles from everywhere. Picnic table in the yard. About six big ugly mean mofos sitting there, drinking.

“Guys, Kathy. Kathy, guys”

I sit down. Tryna be cool. 😉

First thing they do is hand me a pint of whiskey. I take a slug. This meets their approval.

I held onto the bottle. I figured since it was just a pint, this is my own personal bottle. So I didn’t pass it.

One shrugged, went into the house, got ANOTHER pint of whiskey and these guys start passing that around, letting me keep my bottle all to myself.

I’m still tryna be cool. Hoping I seem cool.

Then I see that each biker is taking a slug from that bottle, passing it, and then they were drinking from a mason jar full of ominous looking clear liquid, and passing THAT around. These dudes were HARDCORE. I was in over my head and I knew it. What would I do when they offered that? I knew better than to drink moonshine, I was RAISED here, I know what it DOES. I wasn’t about to let that jar touch my lips.

Sure enough, they offered it. I did a Nancy Reagan, and decided to just say no.

“I don’t need any o’that.”

Took a slug of whiskey. Their eyebrows all raised, but they didn’t argue or try to force it. They just kept rotating the whiskey and the mason jar.

By this time, my own bottle was starting to warm me up considerably, and it seemed like a good time to get up and walk around. I wound up sitting a little distance away on a stump. They continued to eyeball me and pass around libations.

The evening wore on.

With your permission, I’ll say that again.

The evening wore on. That’s lovely.

A good time was had by all, and later that night, my boyfriend and I made our way back to West Virginia.

Sitting on my couch, he smoked and thought.

“You know what was in that jar, Kathy.”

“Yes, and I ain’t that tough. I ain’t about to start drinkin’ shine.”

“Kathy... that was WATER. You walked into a gang of bikers and in the first five minutes you took their whiskey bottle away from them, and then showed them you didn’t need it watered down.” 😳

Oops.

So... turns out, my social awkwardness made me look like the most badass woman they’d ever seen. I had impressed the hell out of’em. They LOVED me. 😂

So ya see... I’ve always been the kind of chick who doesn’t need anything watered down in life.

It’s all real. Real is better.

RIP, D. I know you’re happy for me. And I know you’re happy, too.