you should get naked...
and other fun suggestions i passed on this weekend
this weekend, against my better judgment, i forced some friends to join me in a directionless adventure. our mission was simple: go to arlington to deliver a birthday present to a jordana-brewster-look-alike. being road-savvy, i thought i'd be in the clear leaving the GPS at home and following my remembered way into the beer-soaked streets of clarendon. that was a great thought, however i forgot to include in that line of thinking that i don't actually go bar hopping in arlington, nor do i have any idea where the bar in question was...hilarity ensues.
three ladies, collectively dressed to kill, slipped into my pt cruiser and within moments we were on our way. as a plan enthusiast i found it odd how excited i was to arrive at a location that kept changing as we drove. first one bar- then the one across the street- now the one that's catty corner to the metro station...the texts poured in from the jordana-brewster-look-alike. every location given was within the same block or two and that fact kept my nerves at bay.
our main goal was delivery of the birthday present. the jordana-brewster-look-alike had been out of the country all summer and this was my first chance to really wow her. in fact, it was my first time actually meeting her face to face. no pressure. after a 15 minute drive into arlington turned into a 45 minute tour of arlington we finally arrived at our destination.
it's worth mentioning that the bar we were willingly seeking out was a straight one. in the past, i've had some challenging experiences in hetero clubs and bars but i'm trying to let go of my 'straight-club-hatin' ways. well- more honestly, this chick is a friggin' jordana-brewster-look-alike!! i would have stopped by anywhere to ensure she got her birthday hug.
after elbowing our way through the entrance we were finally in sight of the dance floor. it was late- late enough that 80% of those dancing had sweat stains and a complete lack of basic motor skills. if i couldn't feel my ass cheeks the night would have been delightful. alas, my ass is a sensitive little sucker and i felt all of the man bulges and giant lady shoulder bags as they shimmied by. the dance floor was packed so we inched our way to the bar. it proved to provide little relief from the crowd but the promise of holding something in my hand was a comforting thought.
those of you who aren't excessive drinkers understand my uneasiness when my hands are empty while standing bar-side. everyone sees my paws without a drip drop between them and thinks, "she needs a drink." who's to blame them for jumping to those conclusions? i'm in a bar...it's pretty clear that the intention of an establishment such as that is to drink. to help myself assimilate into the bar scene, i've adopted the habit of always holding a corona light in my hand- empty or full, in my hand it stays.
try as i might to avoid the awkward it finds fun new ways to weave itself into my life. in attempts to play it cool, i told my friends we should stand stationary and wait for the jordana-brewster-look-alike to come around our way. this was a good call on two counts; one- we wouldn't have to bulldoze our way through a crowd and risk loosing each other, two- i wouldn't throw up on the short girls heads and have a panic attack while looking for my friend...WIN WIN!
i saw her gracefully bounce down the steps, smiling and saying hi to people along the way. "guys! i found her! but i'll just wait until she wonders this way...i don't actually want hunt her down." sure enough, within 10 minutes a hand cupped my back and a woman politely asked me if she could squeeze by. in true rico suave form i began smiling uncontrollably and saying bizarre, already established things.
why when i'm nervous i slip into stating facts is still a mystery to me. "ahh! there you are!""it's your birthday." in case she wasn't aware, never mind all of her friends standing behind her tossing 'birthday shots' her way OR the fact that she invited me to her birthday party. "this place is packed." she would have undoubtedly been lost without my assertions. thankfully i alerted her to her own location.
fake-jordana-brewster, my friends and i chatted for a little while longer until our convo was disrupted by two polo-clad fellas. "do you think we are douchebags?!" they asked as the sweat and booze trickled out of their pores. i wouldn't normally judge strangers so harshly but the tenacity of these two was a bit much for me. maybe it was the one corona light talking but i gave 'em some sass.
engaging with these drunk strangers wasn't the best move i've made recently. rather than causing them to scatter, my unparalleled wit (or the fact that we were rejecting them) kept them nestled close to our circle of five.
i began rattling off the reasons why drunk people can be douchebags and one guy went on the attack. he grabbed my scarf, "you know it's not winter. why are you wearing this scarf? it's silly."
at a lesbian bar, i would have been showered with compliments on the classic black kerchief tied round my neck. i told my inebriated new friend that i was on the pulse of fashion and he didn't understand. indeed he didn't- he then went into a tirade on how 'you don't need clothes to be beautiful'. "that scarf isn't you. those clothes don't make you beautiful- you make you beautiful..."
as much as i wanted to hear him out and accept his compliments (let's face it- we can all use a pick-me-up), his bloodshot eyes and the faint smell of vomit reminded me that he was wasted. the jordana-brewster-look-alike rushed to my defense. grabbing my scarf she shouted, "do you know what this means? it means her dick is bigger than yours."
for a split second i'm pretty sure he thought i was a M2F trans but then i clarified,"i'm aware of the fact that you are trying to be philosophical but all you are really saying is that we should all be naked. that's a really neat thought sir, but you are barking up the wrong tree- i'm gay."
being a mature adult he then called me a douchebag and gave me a firm scowl. i went on to remind him that any number of the ladies dancing around would gladly service him later; that our disinterest in dick was no slight to him but the damage was done, his ego crushed for the moment.
it would be easy to look back on the night and remember nothing but the adventure-filled drive and the 15 minutes spent giving the fake-jordana-brewster her birthday present. but where's the fun in denying all of the fun pickles that life puts us in?
rolling with the punches this weekend was something i'm proud to say i did with relative ease. stepping out of my comfort zone both physically and emotionally was a tough pill to swallow but with friends as smooth and thirst-quenching as mine, it was no sweat...aside from those drenched in it at the bar.