Meat Market Madness
Yes, another famous quote from my mother. And yes, again, she was right.
This weekend, my sexy single partner in crime, Mademoiselle, and I went out on the town. After a divine dinner, we went to a bar for some drinks and dancing. In the lineup, we met a duo of dudes and started chatting. Mademoiselle had her eye on one and I, therefore, ended up stuck with The Friend (known as such because I am now so old and deaf that I can’t hear over loud music). After trying many different strategies to relieve myself of The Friend (including ignoring him, dancing with other guys and at one sad point, running away), I started downing drinks like a champ. Like I used to.. When I was younger…
By the end of the evening, I had dined, drank and danced with the best of them. Mademoiselle and I met lots of new guys, however none ended up being promising prospects. The next day, I woke up with the most horrible hangover ever. I felt worse and worse as the day wore on. I had to skip my gym class, cancel my hair cut and missed out on rooftop drinks (oh, I could still barf!). What’s worse? Halfway through the day I had a flashback of making out with someone. But which one?! I’m pretty sure, through my foggy haze, that it was The Friend. People, I made out with someone and I don’t even know his name!
If this is what it takes to meet men these days, I’m screwed. At my age and stage, I need to find ways to meet men where I can be sober (or slightly buzzed, that’s always fun…), where I have the use of all my senses, where it doesn’t cost a minimum of $100 and where I won’t lose an entire day for recovery. Cheers!