No, okay, last night didn’t suck so bad. I saw friends, one of whom (Jeff) just moved from New York to Chicago and I haven’t seen in a while, another of whom (KC) has become much, much cooler since he recognized his tendency to go “from zero to belligerent in record time” and quit drinking.

The evening was not without its highlights. I just once again found myself in a scene where I felt like the endearing social anomaly for whom etiquette allowances are fondly made.

Meg, of Kelly Goes to Fancy Meat Market Bar and Pukes in the Cab fame, invited me out again last night.

Says I, “Is this going to be another loud scenester bar with grinding and expensive drinks and shiny women in tiny shirts? Because I hate those.” “No,” says Meg. “Jeff hates loud bars, too, so I think you’re safe.” “Alright, then. I’ll meet you there.”

Meg’s a big liar. The place was loud and sweaty and pricey. It was kind of fun, though. I didn’t feel out of place in my worn out jeans, and people were just hanging out and having a good time. I didn’t really mind fading into the background, since I had friends around me.

It was nice to see Jeff again. He and I became friends in our sophomore year Humanities class, after I made a pain in the ass out of myself bitching about Milton’s “Paradise Lost” from a feminist perspective, even though I knew that argument was the mootest of the moot, and I was just being obnoxious. He didn’t think he’d like me at the time, but we ended up meeting for breakfast before almost every class, and it became one of those self-kicking retrospective things where I now realize he had a thing for me.

He’s still dating the girl he was seeing in college, even though she’s in New York, and neither of them is willing to move to be with the other.

“How does that … work?” I asked.
“I know! Gimme five.”

And, hand-slap. Because I’m one of the dudes, and this is “Welcome Back, Kotter.” Yeah, I dunno what I mean, but it sounds right.

I think his few years working as a Manhattan investment banker has warped Jeff’s perspective, because last night he described a glittery place where I spent $4 on a Miller Light as a “dive bar.” Whatever. He’s a funny, good-natured kid, and I like him.

We bounced around a bit, going from one loud bar to another. I was wearing cute new shoes that look deceptively comfortable but feel like goddamned bear traps, so I removed them and trounced the sidewalks barefoot. I woke up this morning with dirty soles and bloody heels.

Meg’s kickass friend, Lee, is from the Bay Area, and it turns out that her mother received her Masters from the same institute where I’ll be enrolling in the fall. Lee told me I’d fit in well there, and that I’m “So San Francisco.” When I asked her what that meant, she said simply, “You’re laid back, and you’re kind.” That was sweet.

KC had a couple of club sodas, and made an abrupt exit that was deemed awkward by my ladyfriends. “No,” I said, “He was just done, and he has to work in the morning. I do that all the time.”

“Yeah, but you’re Kelly,” said Meg.

That’s what I mean about being the endearing social anomaly for whom etiquette allowances are fondly made. I guess it’s nice. It sure saves energy.

Meg told me about the guy she’s been dating, stressing the fact that he’s thirty-one whole years old! And he pays for everything! And that being “old” (even though he’s only five years older than we are, and we’re all adults at this point, so what the hell,) has apparently given him enough experience to know how to court a lady.

“That’s not all the experience is good for,” I said, and nudged her. She totally missed my meaning. I don’t think Meg is a huge sex fan, actually. She doesn’t like getting grimy. But, I swear, that woman is a first-class flirt, and has more high quality suitors than a princess in heat.

After KC made his “awkward” exit, Meg and Lee decided to go dancing, and I went home. “Oh, but you loooove live dancing,*” teased Meg, because she knows I usually hate it.

I don’t mean to sound like I’m trashing my friend Meg, here. I love her, and she loves me. One of our bonding factors is that we’re socially so very different.

I waited for the train with a bunch of other Friday night revelers, among whom was an attractive rocker with a Mohawk and a gigantic roman nose, and his Silent Bob-looking friend. Mohawk made continuous eye contact with me, nodded and smiled. I returned the nod and the smile. We got on the train, got off at the same stop, and he looked back at me and, once again, nodded and smiled. It was one of those things you always hope will happen on the subway, but rarely does.

It wasn’t anything really spectacular. I was tempted to strike up a conversation, but my feet were mauled and bleeding, and I was only a block and a half from home. Besides, I’ve learned that pursuing people just because they “look interesting” leads to interaction in which my constant state of mind is, “Damn, you’re sexy, but I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about most of the time, and neither do you.” (Maybe that sums up 90% of all romantic encounters.)

It was enough that the most interesting-looking person I’d seen all evening (if you’ll allow some surface-based judgments) found me interesting, too, even though I was looking dumpy, and (since we’ve already employed some surface-based judgments) I’m calcium-fortified white bread with the crusts cut off.

I don’t know why I started out saying my Friday sucked, because it totally didn’t. Especially when the alternative was staying in and doing some much-needed cleaning. Seriously, it’s gotten to the point that my laundry has told me, personally, that I need to take care of it.

* Meg actually said "live dancing," meaning "dance clubs." That's kind of funny, because I'd probably be way more down with going to a strip club, where the phrase "live dancing" is more relevant, than to a dance club.

Other stuff:

1. The rest of this week was really fun. I was visited by two of my favorite people: my friend Katrina from college, who was in town for some kind of conference, and my favorite ms. m, who often comments here, who was in the state for a show, and drove to the city to have dinner and visit. Lovely.
2. Ringside seats to Luchavavoom on Cinco de Mayo, in observance of a friend’s birthday, which was so much goddamned fun that it deserves its own entry.
3. I’ve told most of my Chicago friends that I’m moving to San Francisco, and they had the ideal reaction of being both mad at me and excited for me. My friend S was passive-aggressively hostile after I told him, until he finally burst out and let me know that he was flat-out angry. But happy. And then he said he’d try to visit me during my spring break.

I’m definitely throwing myself a going away party before I move, and it’ll be fun, as long as I don’t cry too much.

~ Last Five Entries ~

Arm-in-Arm Down Burgundy - 09.05.05

Motivated! - 08.25.05

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

Here I Am - 08.02.05

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BUY DEAN'S BOOK, TOO! YOU KNOW YOU WANNA! SERIOUSLY.

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