I went out last night fearing the worst. I really wanted to celebrate with Chrissy that her divorce was final, but I did not want to have to deal with Jessie. It honestly takes a lot for me to loathe someone, and I loathe Jessie. So I was not really looking forward to what should be an awesome girlfest.
I was wearing my grey leopard print blouse which is see through in certain lighting, med-dark jeans, and my black dancing shoes. I normally avoid wearing this blouse because I’m not that comfortable with invisible shirts, but decided to be a bit of a slut as a celebration of being divorced and free. Plus, I was pretty certain I wouldn’t run into anyone important at the club since it was in suburbia. (By the way, the lighting in the club was not the right kind of lighting to make the shirt invisible. So I looked a little more “proper” than I intended.)
I drove out to Pflugerville to a burb-club. It was my first time there, and it wasn’t too bad. The place is like 6 bars in one, with one room of girls dancing on the bar top, a karaoke room, a country dance room, a hip-hop room, and some other room which I never did figure out the theme.
Almost everyone there was roughly my age or older. Actually there were quite a few older country/cowboy type men. Unfortunately, I don’t have those kind of daddy issues.
The group with Chrissy was pretty large (about 15 people) and diverse. A few people I’d never met before, a new male import from Chicago, and a couple from San Antonio looking to move to Austin. The wife was always out dancing or something, and the husband decided that I was a good woman to get to know. While flattering, I’m not sure I’m really that open minded.
The Chicagoan though looked a little tasty. Physically he was ok. Not really my type, but I thought I’d get to know him just in case. He was a little shy, so I drew him out by talking about Chicago. We shared stories about the differences between here and Chicago.
Then we got to talking about fashion. The guy is not gay, but really should be. We talked about the absence of fashion sense among most of Austin. I of course defended Austin a bit as its a different culture than Chicago and a different climate so changes in fashion need to be made. But when I first arrived in Austin, I was a lot like him and saw no reason for people to dress the way they do.
He then went on to try to explain to me as if I’m stupid about Cavalli and other fashion designers.
“You know Cavalli?”
I of course look at him like he’s a moron and to just get to his point. Mostly because I’m insulted, and secondly because I couldn’t care less about most designer names.
He looks at me like I obviously don’t know what Cavalli is.
“Yes, I know Cavalli.. whats your point?”
“This shirt is Cavalli. Its the most expensive shirt I own. Most people here wouldn’t know that.”
I look at his shirt. Its a nice button up shirt. Sure. But does it look nice? Oh hell no. Sure on someone else it might. Under a suit, it might. In a business setting it might. But the striped shirt honestly looked like some kind of retarded country wear and did absolutely nothing for his complexion. I told him so as nicely as I could.
He attempted not to be offended, and then went on.
“You know Diana Von Furstenberg?”
It was condescending and yet not a rhetorical question. He waited for me to answer.
“Yes I know who she is.”
“You know she perfected the wrap dress. It looks good on everyone.”
I had to laugh at this. If you’ve ever seen me in a wrap dress, you’d know that they don’t look good on everyone. Sure it might look better than some options, but it does not look good on me.
“Not everyone. THIS” I motioned to my body. “Does not look good in a wrap dress, trust me.”
He tried to argue. He lost.
I then explained to him my take on “Fashion”. Yes keeping up with the current trends is good, but its not all about having the latest and greatest name brands. The designer label on most things means absolutely squat to me. Yes I know designer names and styles, but I choose my clothes by how they fit and look on me. Sometimes that means a $5 t-shirt over a $50 one, or sometimes a $100 blouse over a $20 one.
I often get compliments on my outfits and choice of clothing and accessories. I even did when I lived in Chicago.
One of the biggest fashion mistakes that anyone can make is to assume that because the label is “haute couture” it will look good on them. This is the mistake that Mr Chicago was making. For him, it was less about looking good and more about status.
It was this that put him in my Douche-bag Hall of Fame. It didn’t help that later in the evening he “judged” a woman who was just recently separated who has 3 kids and was a housewife prior to the separation.. now unemployed. He said..
“You know someone will have to pay for that divorce, and you know it won’t be her. She’s just looking for someone to pay for it. Totally not interested in her, because she’ll find a way to make me pay for it.”
And then, about 20 minutes later he left with her anyway. Obviously the woman has bad taste in men. I feel sorry for her.
Fortunately, Jessie was pure nice the entire night. Not fake nice. Not bitchy nice. But considerate nice. I don’t know if Chrissy wore off on her, or if she was trying to get back on my good side. I really didn’t care. For Chrissy’s sake I was nice back.
Chrissy’s best friend, Jen came over to me and asked where’d I’d been lately. I turn down every invite from Chrissy once I know that Jessie is coming. I just can’t handle Jessie’s drama. So I told Jen that.
“You know even if I don’t like someone, I can tolerate them usually. It really takes a lot for me to hate someone like this. So I’m sorry, but if Jessie is coming I most likely won’t.”
Jen asked exactly what Jessie did. I explained to her that Jessie was usually so boy crazy that any guy I talked to she’d show up and try to dominate the conversation in any way that she could find. She even went so far as to belittle me or slip in something derogatory about me to make me look less attractive.
Jen smiled knowingly. She said that at first she thought Jessie was nice, but lately has started to see that side of Jessie. She was getting tired of Jessie. She said that it wouldn’t be too long before Chrissy started noticing as well, and that they didn’t always do everything with Jessie. She said she’d make sure to invite me on those occasions.
I really hate being the bitch. I used to just go with everything. Let people do what they wanted, and grin and bear it. But one thing I learned during my marriage is that I don’t have to be a doormat. I’ve actually had enough of that. It was something I was taught as a child as a way to be attractive and part of being a woman, but in the last few years have decided that it’s not… and it’s definitely not me. I honestly used to get insulted when people thought I was a dominant person, now its like a badge of honor.
So while I can smile and nod with the best of them.. I don’t have to and I won’t be unless its because of something I want.
The rest of the night went well. I got hit on by several more men. Each unsuitable for various reasons, but it was nice and flattering.. and fun.
And I have almost perfected my club dancing. Ask me to Salsa, Two-step, Waltz, Swing and I can put on a decent show of following if not impress you. Free style club dancing? Not so much. So I’ve decided my club dancing niche is comedic dancing, and I had Chrissy rolling. She couldn’t even do her dancing because she was laughing so hard. Yeah baby.. I’m hot like that!
Woke up Sunday morning with a massive headache, coughing, and the stench of cigarette smoke. One thing I love about Austin bars is that they’re smoke-free. Pflugerville wasn’t. Sure it was smoke-lite, and I don’t recall having trouble breathing due to smoke but I remember smelling some. (I have a heightened sensitivity to smoke.) It just reminded me of why I go downtown and another reason to dislike suburban bars in Austin.