Blonde Jesus Vs. Frat Matthews

My Own Personal Blonde Jesus

My Own Personal "Blonde Jesus"

Last Thursday I had one of those nights out where you start out going somewhere and end up somewhere completely different and along the way you meet unexpected people.

My friend pointed out the other day that Portland really is one of those towns where in the words or Portlandia, “30 somethings go to retire”. This could not be more true in my neighborhood. Whenever I go to a bar I meet the most fascinating people. People I envy for following their dreams, for being free and who didn’t go the grown up route that I did at such a young age. I live vicariously through the stories they share with me and the lessons they can teach me.

On this particular night I rounded out a night of playing adult kickball, seeing dear friends off on a year long but temporary exodus from Portland, and an intimate back yard BBQ, with a nightcap at a local neighborhood bar.

Now, when I walked in and sat down with a friend at the bar two guys sat next to us. At first glance the guy who sat next to me may have made some people get up and get a different table. He was dressed in head to toe black, had a patch on his jean jacket that said “death metal” and he was wearing a belt made of what looked like AK-47 bullets.  He had long blonde hair and a full beard, he looked like Jesus at a Gwar concert.  He of course didn’t put us off, we will TALK to anyone and make friends with ANYONE after a few beers. Within minutes we quickly launched into a deep conversation about death, religion, politics, war, social media, our families, how we grew up and relationships. It was one of the more deep and thoughtful conversations I have had in a while.

My favorite part was that my friend sitting next to me couldn’t see his full ensemble and could only see his long blond hair and kept referring to him as a hippy, which he of course flatly contested. She then went on to coin him “Blonde Jesus”.  One part I think because we had a few drinks, one part because he looked a little like…well Jesus, and another because our conversation was so intense.  The best part was that he kept trying to tell us that Jesus wasn’t blond and probably looked more like Osama Bin Laden. No Really? He obviously didn’t get the part where she was saying “Blonde” Jesus, not just plain old Jesus…or he was messing with us? I prefer to think the later because he had a great sense of humor.

Fast forward to an hour or so later. Blonde Jesus and I are deep in conversation and this completely drunken idiot walks up behind me, as I sat on the bar stool, and starts literally rubbing himself up against me. Now, I am not one who has a problem standing up for myself so I turned around to tell him to back off and I was almost overcome by the smell of vomit on his breath. I am pretty sure he even had vomit in his beer bottle. He was dressed in an Khaki shorts and a button down. A regular old Frat Matthews.  I told him to get away and he moved to the other side of the bar where he proceeded to stare at me and peacock around for the next half hour. “Blonde” Jesus was clearly pissed that this guy was representing the male race, but I said I had it under control. I didn’t want to see a bar brawl.

Later as I made my way to the bathroom I felt someone reach out and firmly grab my arm. It was Mr. Peacock. He tried to pull me close to him and said “Hey Girl, I am going to buy you a drink” I shook his hand off my arm, told him to fuck off, and walked away. When I got back to my stool, “Blonde” Jesus had already summoned the bartender, who ironically looked like a monk, and told him to kick the asshole out for the way he treated me.  The bartender quickly complied and the bar literally erupted in cheers. Apparently everyone had been watching how this guy was interacting with me.

Soon later it was closing time and we said our thank yous and goodbyes to the holy one and the monk. Blonde Jesus raised his hand in a wave and said “nice meeting you, it was fun, see ya later!”  As I walked home that night I was reminded of how often people judge a book by its cover. I am guilty of it. Honestly if I had been somewhere in a sober situation, say a  networking event, and Frat Matthews and Blonde Jesus both approached me, I would have probably thought Frat Matthews was more responsible than Blonde Jesus. I would have been wrong.

So, thank you Portland for once again turning me upside down on my head and making me realize that good and bad people come in all packages. Thank you Blonde Jesus for being my savior and I do hope to “see you later” soon!

This entry was posted in Oregon, Social Conscience and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Both comments and trackbacks are currently closed.