Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Lola vs. Porch Dreams and Perfect Hair

So obviously this post was supposed to go up last September and I just completely forgot to hit the Publish button. It somehow seems fitting to throw it up right now, as it is unseasonably warm for March and I just told someone how I was desperate to start using my porch again. So here you go...

Have you ever had one of those weekends, the kind that is a perfect remedy for an amazingly hellish week? The kind that has the power to loosen up the knot in your gut and remind you just how many people around you actually like your presence in their lives? Well, I had one of those.

It started off on my porch. After work, a friend from my neighborhood dropped by with the generous offer of martinis and music. He had his lemon drop martini and I had my sweet tea vodka, which is basically crack in liquid form, and we sat cross legged on my slider. I proceeded to get smashed and sing along to music while he attempted to psychoanalyze the fact that I have three dates with three different guys, tentatively scheduled within the span of seven days. I know, it sounds bad. But I have a free week and I have to cram this stuff in before my life takes over again. Plus, I get to give them nicknames like Perfect Hair Musician Guy. (Yeah, I know, really not helping my cause here.)

Sometimes all it takes to begin to ease the week's stress is music, martinis, and wicker furniture.

Lucky for me, the weekend got even better. I planned a birthday outing for my friend Z, which included a sangria and mojito filled cuban dinner, a bongo-drum serenade with fedoras, lots of cleavage from a few of my girlfriends, and a slightly ska, mostly maniacal cover band. Z, after I dropped him off at his house at around 3:00am, sent me several grateful texts and then by way of a goodnight sent me a: "Now if you'll excuse me, I must masturbate to all that cleavage before bed."

I guess that means he went to bed happy?

Then after Z's drunken masturbation ramblings, I get a txt from a random friend who decided to surprise me with a little praise. Usually I'm used to deranged compliments like these. So when someone gives me some of the best compliments I've ever gotten, without prompting or expectation, I'm not quite sure how to react. I get a little flustered, a little embarrassed, and very surprised. Especially when the person giving out the compliments doesn't want to sleep with me. Because then I know that they actually mean them.

So my weekend ended as it began, me drinking on my porch listening to the sounds of the night closing in around me. Wondering if I'm actually going to be alive at the end of the week between the dates, the drinks, and the city.

I'll be sure to give you an update on my condition come next week, fellow bloggers...

So several months later, here is my condition: Perfect Hair Musician? Wasn't perfect. The other two dates? Completely forgotten. The city? Irish Bartender. Me? Still alive. Still drinking. Still naughty.

I suppose some things never change.

Now my question for you, dear readers, is what has the power to loosen up the knot in your gut?