T h e A d v e n t u r e s o f C h i c a g o J o
Suck vs. Batshit Crazy, Outlet Shopping, Saturday Night Spades, and the Last Drag
|2007-02-26† Ė† 5:58 p.m.|
Friday night was supposed to be one of the girlie get-togethers where we eat dinner and catch up on whatís been going on with each other. With the crappy weather, things got cancelled at the last minute. Instead of buming around the house, I met a friend for a late happy hour.
Happy hour turned into a tapas dinner. Tapas dinner turned into meeting up at someoneís house. And as everyone else headed to an untz-untz club to get in before they started charging cover at 11, I walked home with a few things on my mind.
How is it that I have these wonderfully independent friends who have worked their ways up their career ladders, donít take crap from anyone while they have their professional game faces on, provide proof of all sorts of common sense when having normal daily conversations, and who show a whole host of wonderful qualities that make for great friendships... Yet when it comes to relationships, theyíre fucking retarded.
I just donít get it.
Analyzing every little word, down to the gritty (read: useless) details. Worrying about the status of the relationship. Squeezing every ounce of reassurance possible from the ship they know is sinking. Seeking affection in ways that are undoubtedly harmful. Forcing a connection when thereís nothing actually there.
On and on and on.
Yes, men suck. Iíve got too much proof in the pudding to do much besides make an occasional exception when I meet someone who doesnít meet my already-low expectations. (Current male friends, take heart. You were grandfathered into the A-OKAY category long before I came to any realizations.) But isnít a little bit of this suckiness done in part because women are batshit crazy?
Letís quit dissecting the relationship, ask him directly if you want to know something, and then actually have reason to be pissed when it ends up heís fucking your next-door neighbor on the nights heís supposedly visiting his grandma in the old folks home.
Can we make a deal, yíall?
Anyway, that was Friday night. I came home to sleep the sleep of the dead, knowing that Iíd have a busy day ahead of me.
Instead of moving along bright and early, I putzed around the house while waiting for my friend to get his day going. Sometime soon after lunch, we were on our way. We stopped by the thrift store that buys your clothes off of you, and I netted a $39 merchandise credit. Yahoo! I wasnít going to wear that Juicy Couture mini skirt anyway!
Then we headed to the outlet mall. He ended up with a good amount, and I gave the thumbs up and thumbs down to what he picked out. I ended up with a little bit, even though I didnít plan on really getting anything. Replacing the above-mentioned mini-skirt, I got a khaki one thatís still mini but in a respectable length. I also got some lipgloss, even though I vowed not to buy anymore makeup.
My friend was on the phone getting niece and nephew sizes when I saw him wave from across the store. I approached, and he handed me a dress and pointed to the fitting room. This isnít something Iíd normally consider, but it was a neat pattern and good color. That was the third and final item I purchased. Itíll go great with the brown heels my other friend talked me into the previous time I went to the outlet mall.
At some point, a snowstorm blew in. Inches and inches of snow later, we inched our way back to the city.
When I got home, sitting at my condoís front desk was the young and hip door lady and this guy Iíve seen a couple times. I visited with them for a bit, and he dealt me into their card game. We spent the next couple hours playing spades because that is what the very cool people do on Saturday nights.
The next day I again putzed around the house, having no plans until 3:30. I was reading a book when my cell blinked that I had a text message. Coffee? Sure.
Then I went into scramble mode to pack, get ready, and get out the door in a reasonable amount of time. I made it to coffee in about an hour (take into consideration that public transportation moves rather slowly), and I had a pleasant afternoon with someone I find rather pleasant.
Donít go thinking that thereís any smooching in my future, now. My dating hiatus is going well, and I intend on keeping it that way.
Moving along, I left the pleasant man at about 3:30 and headed to the bar where my chorusí benefit was taking place. I got dressed, made up, pinned into a dress, and sufficiently bedazzled. I made sure I was paired up with someone I wanted to be with, and we sold raffle tickets for much of the night.
While hanging out in the silent auction room, I decided that I should put my name somewhere to show some support. The prizes werenít exactly thing that I was interested in, but I did find one that would work.
After I got myself out of the wig, sparkly dress, and gold gloves that went up my arms, I went back to help organize the payments for the silent auction winners. Lo and behold, I won that item. Iím now the proud owner of a case of wine (thatís 12 bottles for those not in the know), two Eliís cheesecakes, and a $75 gift certificate for food stuff. All of this for $100, which Iíll write off at the end of the year. Not too shabby.
With just a little drag queen glitter remaining on my skin, I waddled with my case of wine in-tow, and went home to sleep the weekend away.