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Saturday, August 30, 2008

Dear Diary,

Worst night ever! I feel retarded. I should totally break up with my boyfriend*. We were supposed to meet a bunch of our friends for dinner and then go out afterward. Some of our friends were going to see our other friend's band, but he emailed us earlier and said it wasn't a big deal, so we shouldn't come. That was fine by me, because I don't like live music unless it's a concert with comfortable seats in a luxury box, no smoking and a stay in a nearby hotel afterward, preferably a Westin.

We were going to a casual place for dinner, but I dressed anyway, because we were supposed to go somewhere later. I actually dried and straightened my hair and ironed my dress - the blue one with the big black border at the bottom, which I wore with my awesomest red patent leather Christian Louboutin sanadals. Not that it mattered, because after dinner (a quick salad), I got ditched. My date decided to go see the band with two of his guy friends and I got to drive my brother in law and sister in law home. They didn't seem like they wanted to go home, either, but we didn't really have a choice**. It was very confusing, because before and during dinner, we talked about not going to see the band.

I would have called some other friends to see what they were doing, but my date had given me just enough cash to pay the sitter, who doesn't take checks. Or debit cards. And I really wanted to go out, because at dinner, I got stuck at the end of the table, with people I didn't know who were half my age. And someone spilled their beer at me. Luckily, I was standing up so not much of it got on me, but I hate drama at the table. And some of it did get on my toes, which felt gross. And I hate beer. And my dinner wasn't very good, so I was looking forward to having a snack somewhere else.

I can't explain how depressing it is to be all dressed up, looking forward to a night out, and end up with beer-sticky toes and your date handing you a wad of cash and leaving with his friends. And it feels terrible to drive your other friends home, knowing they wanted to go out and were counting on you to go with them. And you know it's all your fault because you're such a loser that your baby daddy would rather go to a part of town he doesn't like to see a band he's not into than spend one more minute with you. And it feels worse when he says, one foot out the door,

"I'll stay with you if you want me to..."

And by that point, you don't want him to. You want another date, preferably one who likes you or at least thinks you're hot.

I would have gone home and cried, and broken up with him the next day, old school-style. I'm not proud of this, but a couple of times, back in the day, I broke up with people by just never returnng their phone calls or speaking to them in public. I only started saying "hello" again once I was sure we were definitely broken up. Socially sophisticated, I was not. Anyhow, the whole crying/breaking up thing wasn't an option. The kids were awake, so I ended up watching "Ghostbusters" with them in my bed, until it got too scary and we switched to re-runs of "Leave It to Beaver," both excellent choices, by the way. I hate Barbara Billingsly - she is so skinny! And why did I never notice how hot Ward was?

Next weekend, I'm going out with my friends instead. How did this happen?

Love,
Me

*But we have three kids and I like our house, which I couldn't afford on my own.

** Boring explanation of why we didn't have a choice: I wasn't supposed to be the driver and I had already had two glasses of sparkly wine, which is my limit for driving. We could have gone somewhere else, but I would have been the sober third wheel. Can you imagine? It would have been so pathetic. I might have even been "the girl who cries." Don't you hate that girl? The one who cries at every party - and if you ignore her, which you should, since she does it every damn time, you look like a b*tch. And my in laws thought about going back out and driving themselves, but you know how it goes when you think you have a driver... The whole thing was just embarassing. I felt like we ruined their night. Nothing makes you feel like a loser more than bragging to the sitter that you won't be home until close to midnight - and showing up just after 9 pm. Also, all the kids are awake when you get home. At least 50% of the reason you get a babysitter is so someone else will put them to bed. I felt like a jerk. But I wasn't the jerk, now was I?

2 comments:

va said...

no, you were not a jerk. g had to work the next day anyway. we just wanted to sit on our porch. we had this great conversation with tomG. i know exactly how you feel. i get soooo mad at g if I think he doesn't want to be with me. It happened to us last weekend.

Suz said...

that sounds sucky.
BTW, i'm always game to dress up, go to non-smoky, non-beery places and drink bubbly.