March 17, 2008

A Rebirth, With Butt-in Shoes

My good friend Becky came into town on Friday. Beck used to live here but moved away for work about two years ago. I miss her dearly. So I was especially elated when she told me that she was coming. We planned dinner and drinks. Well, *I* planned more - in my head, cause i'm OCD like that. I had visualized a rebirth of sorts. Another independent step on this strange path I'm on. Some fresh air. A chance for me to view the "market" before actually putting myself out there on it. Goodness knows I haven't looked for more than a decade. It felt weird to think about it.

We went first to a local sushi bar. Loved the shrimp tempura and Japanese beer. After that, my dinner (called Hot and Sexy) went downhill. Also, I think our waiter actually flew to Japan himself to bring our dishes because, Dude, it was some baaaad service. I was forced to leave a very tiny tip.

Anyhoo, Becky and I spent some time catching up on our lives, talking a lot about work, men, marriage, jelly rolls, and candy. Of course we talked quite a bit about my comfy shoes as well. Becky knew my comfy shoes - we partied a lot as 3 back in the day - and she was as dumbfounded as I am about the changes and overall let down of the state of my shoes. In fact, my Becky was damned angry with those shoes. We toasted to our futures and laughed until people started to look at us funny. It was great. By the end of dinner I had to use the ladies' and was walked in on by some woman who was NOT apologetic enough in my opinion. Time to go.

We decided on drinks at a local bar with live music. We were ready to relax, chat a bit more, let loose. We paid cover and walked in, surveyed the scene. There were a lot more lesbians and ugly men there than I remember (no offense to the same-sexed or ugly, just a statement of reality in that bar at that time). Then, I saw him. A sight. Sitting on a stool at the bar directly in front of us, and turning around as if he almost expected me to walk in at any moment... my heart dropped like lead.

My comfy shoes were sitting at the bar.

#$#%$%^! $*&@#!!!. (Matriarch and fornication!)

My heart sank to my stomach and Becky confessed that she was fighting the urge to kick my shoes in the crotch. I had to hold her back when she spat and swatted at him. It was a struggle, I tell you. Just kidding there, but that would have been hilarious (and deserved). After polite hellos, Becky and I found a seat and before our butts hit the bench, he was gone.

Also gone was my sense of self, my power, my brave attitude. Just. Like. That. My head was full of worries again. I think that's what I was most upset about. My rebirth was smudged and marred by the appearance of my shoes. I think he planned it, but that's not the point. I'm not quite strong enough yet to say, "who cares?" and shrug it off. He accomplished what he set out to do - make me uncomfortable in my own skin. Force me to live in his world instead of my own. Remind me of how quickly life can fall apart, instead of how there is so much life left to live. I could strangle him for that. Thank goodness I'm classy and totally not like that. Mental note: call lawyer in the morning.

To combat the angry butterflies in my belly, I quickly downed my first Jaeger bomb of the evening. It was delicious.

Becky stuck with beer this time. Boring (but I love her anyway).

Isn't she cute?

We listened to some live music

(Sorry for the blur. It wasn't my vision that was blurry, just the lack of lighting in the bar.)

and people-watched and gabbed, and gabbed about the people we were watching. Several girls had those camel toes I had recently warned my mother about and one girl had about 60 cc's hanging out of her bra. There was too-much-makeup girl who, I think got ready in the dark and misapplied her blue eyeliner and pink eyeshadow from 1986. She was with mullet girl. Seriously - like Billy Rae Cyrus, my friends. It was a sight. All lovely people, I am sure.

Despite the interruption of my shoes, Beck and I pulled off a night of friendship and fun. I am so grateful that we were able to get together and I can't wait to do it again. Next time, we'll take a cab, dance, and employ covert strategies when choosing our fun destination.

Thanks for going out with me, Beck! Love you!

1 comment:

  1. You are crazy! I love that you are so brave. Shoe sighting or not, you walked into the bar a stong woman and proved it.