So this past weekend I went to a party for a friend of mine from high school, Monica, who is getting married on August 20th. Monica and I have an interesting relationship insofar in that I discovered post high school that she really didn't and never had liked me and I had kind of considered us to be friends. I admit that I can be quite a handful at times, so the fact that there's probably legions of people out there who hate my guts is no real surprise, but the shock of finding out her behavior toward me was completely at odds with how she really felt, combined with the fact that she's quite good friends with my good friends, makes it an uneasy relationship all around. Apparently the majority of her dislike for me stems from an incident concerning our mothers, which my mother is completely unaware of. My mom is a super nice lady so I find it doubtful that she would insult someone purposefully and I'm not sure I like people who hold imagined grudges for no reason.
The other irony about all of it is that, ultimately, I still kind of like Monica, though I don't always agree with her approach to life, but hey, potato potahto. And she apparently is completely unfazed by her dislike of me and wonders why I'm so distant. For the record, I don't hide my emotions well. Though I try to be tactful, I don't have a good poker face and it's definitely gotten me in trouble. Anyway, at this point all conversations with Monica and her mother tend to be pretty uncomfortable, though I am genuinely happy that she's getting married because I love weddings.
So back to the party. I show up to this bar in Dallas that has definitely burned me before. The last time I parked near there, my car got towed and taken to the one of the less savory parts of town. At the tow site, they have a bulletproof pane of glass for the receptionist and rottweilers behind 9 foot rusty fences made out of scrap metal. AND it's 40 minutes from my house, albeit 15 minutes from the bar. But it was suggested to me by the tow truck site lady that I go nowhere near that part of town after dark and I believed her, but I digress. So I show up to this bar with my friend Bonnie and her beau Alan and we scamper upstairs, where I am accosted by Monica's mother, Marilyn, who informs me that a male friend of hers saw me at a play that we all went to together and now just "has to meet [me]". Mind you, he was at that improv performance in order to ogle another girl that just happens to have a boyfriend, but I won't split hairs. So she tells me that he thinks that I'm super hot and I vaguely remember a guy sitting next to her that I thought was pretty cute though a little short for me. There are exceptions but I tend to like my menfolk a couple of inches taller than me to accommodate my heel wearing escapades. THEN I'm informed that he's an opera singer, 35 (I swear I thought he was 19 at the time), and, in the words of Marilyn, "challenging". Hmmmm...challenging.... That could mean, well, challenging. OR it could mean "an asshole".
What does one say to this information, I wonder. It's hard to tell. The polite thing to do is to squeal with glee, but as I've just said, I don't have a good poker face. So I compromised and had a general visage of disbelief as I made appreciative noises at her matchmaking skills. Mind you, if I get married to this guy, I'm totally going to eat these words someday. Somehow I'm not too worried about the possibility. But this does prove my theory that everyone I know is getting married to set me up. So that's cool. But, the coup de grace:
Marilyn: So you just have to show up looking extremely hot at the wedding.
Me: Um, I'll try my best.
Marilyn: You should wear a push-up bra or something.
Me: ... I think I need a beer.
So yet again, someone is staring and JUDGING my chest. Not only that, my somebody's MOTHER. And this time it hella can't be blamed on me because I haven't spoken to Marilyn in years. You know what World, suck it. They're this size. Shit happens. I have lovely and proportional legs that because of all the stupid weight lifting I've been doing are actually quite muscular so why don't you leave my poor breasts the hell alone and center on something else. I also have a sparkling personality.
And awkward.
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5 comments:
In keeping with your title, I would just like to say... g-ouch.
AH-hahahahaha.
Yes, I am easily entertained.
You have nice legs, your breasts are fine, and if by sparkling personality you mean challenging, I'd agree with that too. ;) You know who it is.
I DO know who that is. And I'm not challenging, I'm intriguing. So HA!
And it's lovely to see Emily's horrid puns because I miss them so. I must admit that despite my incredulity that she keeps coming up with them, there's a void now that I don't get to hear them all the time. Sad.
i will superkick that obnoxious opera singer.
I have that same problem with most of our friends from high school. Only with me, I've discovered that the awkwardness my presence causes is the result of being completely straighforward about my feelings, yet civil and friendly. Yes, it's true that a few people in our social group annoy me, but they're excellent people, and I see no reason to make my personal issues everyones issues. At the same time, if person X comes up to me and says, "did you like me in high school?" my answer will be, "no, not particularly, through no fault of yours".
But then, I'm an objectivist.
I guess my point is: this is the fun part of keeping up relationships with wildly different people over wildly long periods of time.
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