A NIGHT OUT

On Friday, I returned a bottle of nail polish to J that had been sitting my bathroom for months. On Saturday, I returned two library books and a toy train that miraculously re-appeared on the floor of my jeep. We had thought the train was gone for good; that the baby threw it out the window during our bike trip in August. However, today when I was cleaning out the jeep, there it was, plain as day. I also threw away a small mountain of stuff from the jeep: rags for cleaning and checking oil, the broken container that once held my tool and emergency kit, a few expired bits and pieces of stuff, some screws to the top of my old jeep, and the bottles of some windshield wiper fluid and anti-freeze when I topped all the fluids off. I also drove off a small army of spiders that had taken up residence in my hard top for the summer. I'm sure I'll be driving away a few spiders in the weeks to come. (Nerd outlined an entire green spider elimination plan, but I have yet to execute it) Four down, 27 more things to go.

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Friday night, I went out with KC and a couple of her co-workers to watch the Sox and see a band. It was freezing here Friday, so I threw on some jeans, chuck taylors, a long sleeved Tshirt and a Red Sox shirt over it. I figured, when you are going out to watch a baseball game at a dive bar, it's a casual affair.

When I arrived at KC's there was a small whirlwind going on. KC was one step less casual than me: jeans, boots, a semi-fitted Tshirt and a cardigan. Her two co-workers were not. They had each brought several outfits and were changing repeatedly between them, modeling and asking for opinions.

"Well, that color looks better on you, but you look skinnier in the black, and your boobs look best in the red."

"Should I wear the heels or the boots?"

"Does this look too trashy?"

Finally, they each settled on a look, we finished our drinks, and piled into KC's truck to go to the bar. We said "Hi" to the band, grabbed drinks, and found a good spot. Then I started watching the action. And I'm not referring to the playoff game.

KC's friends were WORKING THE ROOM. Literally. They were systematically moving from one end to the other, tirelessly flirting, sizing up, considering, discarding. They were eyelash batting and hair flipping. They were laughing earnestly at jokes. They were standing just so in the most flattering positions they knew. And every so often, they'd run back to where KC and I were standing to ask for opinions.

"Do you think he's cute?"

"Is that shirt he's wearing too dorky?"

"How much does a personal trainer make?"

Ok, I know I'm the old fart of the group. I know I'm in a much different place in my life than them. I know that unlike most of the crowd in the bar, I almost had a sensory overload meltdown trying to simultaneously watch a baseball game, listen to a band, talk to one person, dissuade another from taking any further interest in me, and send text messages to Nerd. (Sure, anyone under the age of 25 could have added two more tasks into the mix without missing a beat. I, however, could not)

That being said, I don't ever remember trying as hard as those two. EVER.

When I was in my twenties, I used to go to bars straight off the beach. Wearing cut off jeans over my bathing suit and flip flops, my hair matted together in a dreadlocked mess. I never paid cover. I never waited in lines. I never paid for drinks. (ok, maybe people thought I was homeless and felt bad for me) But at least at was a lot less work!

Seriously. I can't fathom working that hard to go out on a Friday night. I work hard at work. Going out is supposed to be relaxing. I don't think I put that much prep work into my state licensing exam!

When I got home (after a 1:00am trip to Wendy's for sustenance, a crazy after-party at KC's with half the band, Gman and his obnoxious friend, and getting pulled over in a road block the state troopers set up) I said a small prayer of thanks: Thank goodness I am a a sloppy, boring non trendy person! I don't have the energy to be any other way.