Dear Mr. Decker, as a working bartender, I feel you are the perfect person to ask this question. I really like this girl but she’s sort of standoffish to me. Except when she gets drunk. Then she’s all over me. I’m really tempted to get her drunk so we can get wild. Is this wrong? Does it make me a creep?

—Dave M., North Park

Dear Dave, So, you want to know if getting a girl drunk so that she might have sex with you makes you a creep? The fact that you have to ask that question tells me that you’ve got a lot to learn about women and booze.

Getting girls drunk to loosen them up for a little jungle sex is one of the reasons Jesus invented alcohol and to not use it in such a manner would be disrespectful to The Lord, so my advice is to start ordering those shots.

However, I must warn you that there’s a fine line between being a fun-loving booze-hound who just want to have a great, fun, drunken date that ends in having wild drunken jungle sex and being a creep, who takes advantage of a woman by getting her so inebriated she can’t tell the difference between his member and a Marlboro.

And that fine line can be found in your level of intoxication.

In other words, are you getting drunk at the same time that you are getting her drunk? Because if you are, then fine—so long as you are getting the two of you drunk for the right reasons: to break a little ice, soften the edges a tad and loosen her inhibitions enough that she might be receptive to the Tarzan and Jane costumes you’ve got spread out on your waterbed should you be so lucky as to bring her home.

However, if you’re getting her drunk while you stay sober, for the sole purpose of having an unfair advantage, both physically and emotionally, then, yes, that would make you a creep.

Throughout nearly two decades as a bartender, I have encountered many creeps. They are easy to identify because, aside from the small bit of white foam leaking from the corners of their mouths, they’ve all got their creepy little methods. For instance, one maneuver I find particularly loathsome is what I call the “secret double,” method.

It usually works like this: The couple will be sitting at a cocktail table or somewhere away from the bar. Perhaps they’re on a first date, or maybe they just met and are hitting it off. When they finish their round, the guy will come to the bar and order, say, two rum and Cokes. Then he’ll ask, as if an afterthought, “Can you make hers a double?” and give me a wink that says, “Hey, you’re a guy—you understand what’s going on here,” wink-wink.

He’ll proceed to order this way all night. Of course, I never actually pour the doubles (though I’m happy to charge for them), and when I deliver the drinks, I give him a return wink that says, “Yeah man, I do understand what’s going on here. I understand that you are Creep with a capital C. I understand that you have no game, so you have to resort to unscrupulous tactics to get women in bed. I understand that secretly slipping extra alcohol into a woman’s drink is almost as bad as slipping her a rufie, and the next time you try to pull that garbage on my watch, I will stop what I’m doing, come around from the bar and tell the young lady, “Your date is a lowlife scumbag that is feeding you intoxicants without your knowledge. Shall I have him removed from the premises?”

If she shakes her head “no” and moves in closer to him, well, so be it. But if she says “yes,” I’ll invite her to join me at the bar, where I’ll make us a couple of lemon drops and toast his creepy ass as security drags it out of the club.

Harsh? Maybe. But it wouldn’t have bothered me so much if he ordered a double for himself, too. It’s the fact that he requested his drink as a single to maintain an unfair advantage that really elevates his slug ranking.

And to any of you guys who want to talk shit to me in the bar tomorrow and try to tell me that I’m breaking the man-code with all this, well, you can go fuck yourselves. I honor the man code, but when a man crosses the line, it’s no longer the man code. It’s the douchebag code, which I do not honor.

So, Dave, you have your answer: If you are the type of guy who gets his date drunk while you stay sober for the sole purpose of taking advantage, you are most definitely a creep.

If you are the type of guy who takes a girl to a restaurant and tells the waiter, on the sly, not to bring the basket of bread—so that she doesn’t have anything in her stomach with which to soak up the alcohol—you are a creep.

If you are the type of guy who nurses his wine, while constantly refilling her glass and urging her to drink more, then you are a creep.

If you are the type of guy who prefers a date who’s unable to talk, walk or defend against your feeble advances, which are the intellectual equivalent of dipping pony tails into ink jars, then you are a creep.

However, if you are the type of guy who likes drinking and screwing, and you like women who like drinking and screwing, and you both get liquored up, together, and go back to your pad and drunkenly hump each other’s brains out while swinging on vines and making animal noises—that is not creepiness at all. That, as far as I’m concerned, is class. Not tea-and-crumpets class, mind you, but the booze and bar class, class, which is what passes for class in my circles. Got class?

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