Tuxes and Tiaras

I knew I wanted to give Jack an honest chance without the whole New Orleans fiasco the morning after I met him. I was slumped in the passenger seat of his SUV, hungover and not handling it very well. As we emerged from the parking deck I use for my apartment building, I groaned and shaded my eyes from the morning sun with my palm. Jack looked over at me and stifled a smile. He then aimed so only his side of the SUV would go over the speed bumps, and not mine.

Honestly, it was one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. It was a small gesture, but it was something I never would imagine doing. I always drive so my side misses the speed bumps, it had never even occurred to me that there was another way. He put my comfort in front of his own.

Okay Sarah, you need to give this boy a break. You've given him an awful lot of grief for someone who hasn't actually started dating you yet. Play nice.

Jack was parked in front of my building again at 8 PM that night. When he saw me tug the gate open, he got out of the truck. And he looked great. I looked down at my own sweater and felt embarrassed. He got my door and then ran back to his side, and as soon as he sat down, his fingertips nipped at my elbow and he told me he loved my sweater.

I chose the restaurant. It's my favorite place in Midtown and my stand-by date place. Besides, I had coupons. What I was not counting on, however, was Oscar night. The upstairs was rented out for the AIDS Survivor Oscar Party.

"Omigod," he whispered as we saw men in tuxes and tiaras dancing in front of a projection TV screen.

"That's Midtown for you!" I laughed.

Because the Oscars was playing on every screen, most of our conversation--when we weren't watching--revolved around our taste in movies.

"What do you mean you haven't seen Little Miss Sunshine?!" I hollered.

"I've never saw it. No reason why."

"Well you have to see it. And if you don't love it, then we have much bigger problems."

After dinner we walked back to his truck, clumsily avoiding the crazy homeless man who was trying to sell Jack a flower. I grabbed Jack's hand after the man started screaming obscenities at us and shaking the wilted flower.

"That's Midtown," I repeated and we heard the swell of cheers from the AIDS Survivor Oscar Party.

"What now?"

"Little Miss Sunshine?"

"Okay," he playfully sighed.

Back at my place he admired my books as I slipped the disc in. When I sat down on the couch, he had wrapped himself around me. I don't know how he did it, but it was very crafty. He then pressed his cheek to my temple and smelled my hair.

And he liked Little Miss Sunshine.

I turned off the DVD player, leaned in to kiss Jack, and he extended his cheek to me.

"Don't be a dick," and I grabbed his chin and pulled it towards me. Um, did I just say that? Out loud? So he could hear?

Classy, table for one please.

He made a joke about the line while I sat there, utterly horrified at what just escaped my mouth. He then got up to leave.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit ohshit!

At the door he grabbed me and kissed me again, telling me he'll call. I closed the door, locked it, and turned around and sank down on the cold slate tile.

What is wrong with me? And why am I allowed in public?

Jack's Preamble

I asked around about Friend of Harvey, forever known as Jack, at the lingerie party:

"Oh Sarah, he's so hilarious."

"He is such a great guy. Truly a nice guy."

"He's the most interesting person I've met. And I don't mean interesting in a bad way. He's so smart and genuinely interesting to talk to." (male perspective)

Everyone had such great things to say about him that I became nervous: this nice, intelligent, and funny guy wanted to go out with me. The girl who yaks in bushes. The one who posts pictures of herself with her finger up her nose on the Internet. The one who makes incredibly bad decisions when it comes to men.

What if he didn't like me? What if he saw me and decided he wasn't attracted? I've been in such a rut that I don't know how I would handle that right now. He is my first date this year.

Then during a phone conversation I found out something about him. Three days after asking me out, he went out of town with another girl. He took her to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. I can't be upset with him over something he did before we met, but I just know that I would be really hurt if the boy I'm sleeping with is planning dates with someone else before taking me out of the state. Leaving the state on vacation spells commitment. It was a huge red flag for me to learn this.

He argued that they met mutual friends in New Orleans and that there really was no commitment between them because they only met once before.

What? You mean to tell me you spent seven hours locked in a six by ten-foot box on wheels with someone you met exactly once?

"That's like driving someone to the airport!"

"Is that bad? Because I did that too."

I groaned.

Saturday night I told the story to Harvey, who did not know about the other girl. "I agree," she said. "Going out of town is a big deal. But I honestly think he just didn't know any better. I mean, he's not even on speaking terms with her. But if you don't want to go out with him anymore, I completely understand."

"No, I'll meet him."

I didn't really have a choice; he was on his way to meet up with us. And I was quite drunk.

But a whole lot less nervous.

Dear Daddy,

I know you want me to get out more because you think I'm boring, so when Harvey sent me a text Saturday night that read, "Atkins Park, 9:30," I rolled off the couch and showered. And at 9:30 I was seated firmly on a bar stool. I did it for you, Daddy.

And that martini and those first two gin and tonics, I ordered them because I knew you would want me to have them.

And, well, the pitcher of beer that followed--liquor before beer and you're in the clear, right?

But, honest to God, Daddy, I didn't know they invited Him out too. I know you told me not to get drunk, but it doesn't count when you're shitfaced before he even arrives, does it? By the time I found out, there was nothing I could do, Daddy.

So, to review: not my fault.

And, er, he may haven taken my car keys away when I said I could "color within the lines." And he put up with me long enough for the 30 minute drive back to my place, especially when I turned up the music and sang Alice in Chains for him.

He may have spent the night, but I made him promise up and down to be a good boy. And then I broke into a fit of giggles because boys look really ridiculous wrapped in pink sheets.

And the next morning I was wishing for sweet death, Daddy. All in the name of not being boring. I was able to make it until after he drove off before I got sick in the bushes in front of my car.

When Harvey sent me another text inviting me to a barbeque, I politely declined, Daddy. You can call me boring, but I was desperately in need of a shower, some food, and a nap in that order. Especially when I had a date that night.

Parental Counsel

"Sarah, you're so boring," my father declared. "You're young and you live in the city; you need to get out there and do more things."

I chewed on my lip and adjusted my cell phone to my other cheek. I could tell him about the lingerie party, but decided against it. I could tell him about the baby shower, but that would just put an elephant in the room. I could tell him about Tuesday, but he worries about me going back to school so much to visit old friends instead of making new ones. Well I've tried that and it didn't go so well, which I bet he doesn't want to hear about either.

"So what are you doing this weekend?" he prompts.

Giving my body a break. I'm going to make a nest in the couch and not move until Sunday. I'm going to see how much I can eat without actually cooking. I'm going to nap in between my Blockbuster movies that just arrived in the mail. I'm going to give the dog dirty looks when she wants to go out and pee because that just means I'm going to have to put on pants.

"Um," I stammered. "I'm going out on Sunday."

"Ooh! What are you doing?"

"Um, dinner." The absence of details makes what I'm really doing obvious.

"You have a date?"

"Er, yeah." My parents don't really know me that well -- and they understand me even less -- so I skip out of a lot of details on my life. They know when I buy new shoes or if my truck needs repairing, but that's about it. I actually lived with my father for the very first time for six months about a year ago. We had no idea who each other were as people until then. I think I take after him a lot. That's why he gets even this much information.

"How did you meet this one?"

I dump my head into my free hand. "I haven't met him yet, Daddy. He saw my picture at a mutual friend's and wanted to meet me."

"Well, that's good. Physical attraction is the first step in relationships..."

I wince. I can't believe I just admitted to my father that I have a blind date. I can't believe he's telling me about physical attraction. I can't believe-

"...Just don't drink too much and blow him out of the water. You know, like you did with the speed dating thing."

Oh, maybe he does know me a little better than I thought.

My liver hurts

I am alive, but it is completely possible that I might still be drunk from Fat Tuesday.

Riding the Sin Wagon

Remember when my posts used to employ metaphors, themes, and other literary devices?

Yeah I miss those too.

I've really wanted to get back into that, but my mind is too scatterbrained to actually put intended coherent thoughts back-to-back right now. At this moment, for instance, I am mentally singing Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'."

E sent me a crap apology letter sometime last week. It was only a few sentences and included the phrase "honest mistake." I didn't buy it, but I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt that she didn't actually know why I was so upset, even though I already told her. I sent her a reply articulating why exactly I felt the way I did. I was a big girl about it and removed giant blocks of text that were either off point tangents or personal attacks, but I was very honest with her and let her know that things are not good between us right now.

She never responded. This leads me to believe that our friendship was not as important as I thought it was, and that, god, girls suck.

But in a very special turn of events, Satchel, my platonic lover for life, is back in town and we're celebrating Mardi Gras just like we did when we were in school-- with body shots of well liquor, cheap beer, and the worst hangover of our lives. I've already scheduled Wednesday as a sick day from work.

I'm that dedicated to get all my sinning in tomorrow.

Party People

My mouth feels like something wet and greasy died in it, so that can only mean a 3 AM trip to Waffle House was included in last night's adventures. I also seem to remember an eye test to see if Phil had indeed been kidnapped by Buffalo Bill's uglier sister like I suspected.

Fun was had last night.

I surprised my neighbors when I walked out of my loft, clearly not wearing any pants, with only my pea coat covering me, flasher-style. Then I got into my SUV and drove 15 miles to the lingerie party.

That would be the tip of my coat keeping me from indecent exposure.

I walked in the door and immediately posed like Betty Boop while my coat was yanked off me by Harvey. A beer appeared out of nowhere and was thrust in my hand. There were a couple of girls wearing pants, but not many.

Even guys got into the spirit:




And now, the party pics:






Harvey and her best friend both thanked me over and over for coming to the party and truly getting into the spirit of the theme. It had been a year since I'd seen Harvey last and I didn't expect her to take E's place, although I hoped it wouldn't be another year before we get to see each other again.

However, they had other plans. Actually we all have plans. For Friday. Most of the group hadn't realized that I moved to the city; they thought I still lived back at school. They told me they missed me and we laughed about all our antics in college—nights that predated the men in their lives.

Perhaps the fight and subsequent falling out with E was a good thing. Otherwise I would have gone to E's friend's party in place of seeing Harvey. Now I've reconnected with old friends and my circle has gotten a little wider.