Commentary: The Prowl… Published May 19, 2011 By AFSPC Sexual Assault Prevention & Response Office Air Force Space Command PETESON AIR FORCE BASE, Colo. -- This past weekend, I found myself as the designated driver for a group of my college friends. This "boyz" weekend has had numerous constants these past 20 years: watching football games, drinking beer and shots, gorging on pizza and BBQ, and invariably closing the evening with Tums and seltzer cocktails, a Pepto-Bismol chaser, and calls home to the wives advising that all were behaving. This year's event brought us to a city that was home to a large state university with a major sports program and an even larger young adult party scene. After a misguided stop to a landmark bar in the city, which featured alternative and very loud music permeated with vulgarities that would make the Jersey Shore crew blush, we settled at a Blues bar. It is here that we met a guy named Mitch. Mitch was a former Marine with two combat tours, and was using his GI Bill to attend college on a six year plan. He was very well spoken, and it was obvious that he knew all of the key people in this bar. He was very helpful, and quickly offered his expertise on "the game" requisite within this establishment. As Mitch explained it to my friends, he had two bars that he referred to as his "lair," where he sought out his "marks." He asked if we were on "the prowl" for women, and offered several suggestions to help us "make our move." He suggested the dance floor as the place to "initiate your game," and that he had already "staked out several marks." My initial thoughts on this concerned the more primitive breeding rituals of various species of birds or lower mammalians. But Mitch was entertaining. So, despite his behaviors, suggestive of indisputable proof that Darwin was indeed correct, we continued to listen. Mitch was friendly towards everyone, especially the ladies. His intentions were obvious, and the ladies he pointed out on the dance floor were all his "game." I suspect he approached me specifically as a response from his amygdala, the primitive portion of one's brain, which deals with primordial concepts including potential territorial threats to his "game" from a larger intruder (the only person bigger in this bar was the bouncer, whom Mitch also knew very well). His methodology was very smooth. Mitch was one of the main "dudes" that frequented this bar. He had a great way of making folks feel at home, and was very generous with both charm and alcohol. He reinforced his methods with his newly found "dudes" (my friends and I) by elaborating on some of his many past sexual exploits. His best experiences were with the ladies that "were totally polluted" (highly intoxicated). Some of these experiences with his "game" were described as "totally biblical." He smilingly offered to help us in our "conquests," to which we politely declined. Mitch then continued his "action" and "hunt," as his hunting grounds in the bar were now deemed safe from potential competition. He quickly zeroed in on three young, unsuspecting, and mildly inebriated college co-eds. More drinks were forthcoming, introductions were made, the comfort level was being increased, plans were being made, and everything was "effervescent." My friends were leaving, and I was their driver, so we left to a wink of the eye and a thumbs-up gesture from Mitch. A word to the bouncer about getting the girls a cab-ride home was quickly scoffed, "dude...look at all the women. What do you think they are here for?" My answer was "to dance and listen to music?" The bouncer's response, "to hook-up." I was left wondering whether there will be any regrets the next morning after the "biblical" experiences likely to be wrought. And the band played on... Editor's note: The author of this commentary wishes to remain anonymous.