I think we can establish that I’m not much of a party animal or a huge drinker. At this point in my life, I mostly volunteer, read, and write. Kind of a snore, I know. But yesterday was Independence Day, the one time of the year we Americans celebrate the doctrine that all white men are created equal. (People of color and women? We’re still working on that. But I digress.) And so I broke with tradition and tied one on among friends.
Believe it or not…I was invited to a big backyard barbecue most of whose attendees are in “the business” (though not all). While I was happy to pedal on over (loner/recluse notwithstanding), it was something of what mom used to call a “command performance.” I missed Memorial Day as I was away…and the hostess made it clear she wanted me to show up for the July 4th fiesta.
With the party scheduled to begin between 3 and 4 PM, I showed up fashionably late around 4:30 to find exactly one guest (a popular Polish girl to whom I once sold ads) who’d arrived before me. When she saw that I’d brought desserts, Tati asked the host if there was anything additional required to make the party just perfect, and I volunteered to “escort” her so she wouldn’t get lost – and to kill some time while the other guests arrived and the party began heating up.
Twenty minutes later, we returned to find the status quo. Which made me wonder “Where the fuck are all the peoples?” Slowly but surely, they filtered in and within a couple of hours, it was a ghetto backyard throwdown complete with mamas choreographing their tiny little tots in some sort of twisted twerk-a-thon. To be fair, the kids were really cute – and they’d actually worked on their dance moves – which were often in synch with each other. I don’t know about twerking at two…but the teamwork aspect and all the exercise can’t be a bad building block for later life.
Now to the point. There were several people at the party to whom I’d either sold ads in the past – or done a little mix and match – if you get my drift. You can trust me when I tell you that none in the latter category was competing for my affection or attention. Yes, I’m a legend in my own mind but no, not to that extent. While I was friendly with all the people I know there, I was not pushing up on anybody nor making them feel uncomfortable. Still, there were some curious dynamics.
Like just for example, girls had no problem grinding up on me for an audience. It was like I was the perfect foil for their tomfoolery. I’m not especially a grind-on-a-chick kind of guy at a party but being among friends with whom there wasn’t a lot of mystery either way, I figured “what the hell!” Let the girls have their fun.
Don’t get the wrong idea. It wasn’t all rose-colored on the Dollar Bill beat. Apparently, even the most jaded of hound dogs can be fooled by a cold-hearted woman. One girl in particular, who I considered a friend (and not a girlfriend) truly surprised me with how icy she can be. It was almost as if I’d infiltrated an “in” crowd of which she is a member – and I am not – and will never be. Whatever…fuck her. She ain’t all that anyway. Drop a few pounds, girlfriend and then get back to me. Still…talk about getting the “trick treatment.” Ouch!
To the good part: Being an early arrival, I was half lit by the time the party really got into full swing – and became something of a catalyst to the point where a fetching and very shapely goddess (of the amateur variety) asked the hostess who I was, adding that she thought I’m kind of cute (and not even for an old guy)! I know. No accounting for tastes…that’s for sure!
So she actually offered her number – which I know is real because I dialed it and saw her phone ring. Of course, there might be a problem when she finds out that all those ladies who were using me as a grinding post know a little too much about me. Her cousin is a phone girl so the truth is bound to surface sooner than later. And then there’s that thing that I ride the subway half price. I don’t think she really got how old I am! No matter! Probably more flirtation than anything else. Que sera and all that.
In summation…mostly the girls were really nice. Just that one bitch let me know summarily that all that Dollar Bill bull shit is just that. Try as I may, I’m still a fucking trick – and I should know my place. What are ya gonna do? Oh yeah! That ridiculously curvy cutie with questionable taste in men. Let me go text her now!
P.S. She answered back. I’m workin’ on my next broken heart!