Lack of Propriety

Thursday night after Community Group, a few of us still hanging around chatting determined that there was little in the way of plans made for the weekend. 

We decided to go to a restaurant called Bolsa in the Bishop Arts District, a decidedly up-and-coming, hipster-ish neighborhood in South Dallas. A party of nine (eight girls, one RM), we waited on the inside part of the restaurant near the bar, drinking peach sangria and chatting while we waited for our table. We weren't seated until nearly 10 p.m., and by then everyone on the patio near us had been there, drinking, for quite a while. 

After ordering salads and flatbreads, we settled in and my friends CC and KR quickly spotted an amorous couple at the outdoor bar, of which I had full view. The couple fell into the "older than our parents" range; both probably about 60 but dressed much younger. The canoodling started, some whispering of (probably not sweet) nothings, some neck-nuzzling; nothing you would ever in a million years want to see your parents doing but still relatively harmless. They had clearly been drinking for some time and then started kissing and getting hands-y. 

Our entire table became their captive audience at this point, in disbelief of the scene unfolding, and the table next to us of couples in their early thirties started pointing and commenting on the behavior as well. The man made every woman looking cringe, as he started in on the woman's lower back, sliding his hand under her shirt and grabbing her love-handles. Jaws dropped as we saw him lean back, slide his hand up the back of her shirt, unfasten her strapless black bra and hand it to her. Wide-eyed, we all gave each other a "that just happened" look. Goodness knows they were in no condition to drive, but soon after the bra was taken off, they left. Maybe they finally ascertained that there was only so far they could go in public, who knows? I think it's great that couples stay in love after years together, keeping the romance alive and whatnot, but there are limits to how much of that love the general public should have to see on a Friday night. 

They disappeared and were replaced by a group of younger folks, probably about 10 years older than us, who gladly claimed their seats. Also a bit of a spectacle, one of the couples established early on that they would be the lovebirds to watch. The girl clearly thought she was the greatest thing since sliced bread in a white backless sundress that had laces creating geometric shapes all over her back and tall heels. Her boyfriend, equally starved for attention, had on a white, tuxedo looking shirt with ruffles all down the front, a bracelet, too-tight jeans and snakeskin loafers, and they picked up where the other couple had left off. 

Bolsa must be Spanish for frisky. 

Saturday afternoon I went to the Mavericks vs. Nuggets play-off game in Dallas (we were robbed on that last foul call, for the record) with CC. The couple next to us, our parents age, were drinking copious amounts of alcohol and got progressively more obnoxious as the game went on. CC eventually moved her Diet Coke down between our seats, citing the reason that the man was taking up too much space and she was having to reach between his legs to get to her cup-holder. I thought it was funny; she not so much. 

A close runner-up for Most Awkward Person to Watch behind bra-remover-old-enough-to-be-a-grandpa, was a guy sitting in front of us during the game. The seats directly in front of us were occupied by two girls, very done up and cute, probably 18 or 19, eating processed cheese and candy in such a way as led me to believe they haven't had to worry about the concept of a metabolism yet. They had empty seats on either side of them, kept checking their phones and looking around, and so it looked like they may have been stood-up. 

A guy many years older than them and a few seats down, who had not spoken to them the entire time, handed his phone to another guy near him to take a picture of him with the two dateless girls sitting on his row, to send to his buddies. *Possible text sent with photo:* Dude, look at these two hotties! I am awesome! This happened during the third quarter, meaning he sat by them, not saying another word to them, mind you, for the duration of the game. Over a shared bucket of popcorn, CC and I could only wonder what he was thinking, and through our shared musings, after all the events of the weekend that had transpired, she said, and I agreed:

Why can't other people get embarrassed for themselves? Why do I have to feel embarrassed for them? 

Great question.

Peter Bretter: You can't be so casual about this! This isn't Europe, okay? There are rules here! 

- Forgetting Sarah Marshall, 2008

Matchmaker

I always appreciate anyone who can make a good clock reference. Very rarely can you just say "hot guy, 9:00" and not look over to see that person with their eyes to the ceiling, visualizing the big hand and the small hand in their head, nor just outright rubber-necking to see who you were talking about. The subtlety of The Clock is completely lost on some folks.

Saturday night kicked off what was the first of five parties for my friend AG before she gets married in July.

Wedding Season is not a 100-yard dash- it's a marathon.

I picked up my ladies KR and MK and we headed southwest of Dallas to the city of Ft. Worth. AG's fiance is from Ft. Worth, he is the first of the three brothers in his family to get married, and no fewer than eight families were hosting the party- held in a private room of Joe T. Garcia's, a Mexican food restaurant which is an institution in the city.

AG and WS, her fiance, are one of the few blind date success stories I have ever known. As a result of a successful match, and using her party schedule as ammunition, AG is now working her magic and trying to set up some of the single ladies in her wedding... myself, MK and KR. I got a breezy email from her last week, mentioning "a guy" she had in mind for me. Oy. She winced before showing me who he was, saying: "he's blond and kind of nerdy." I was affronted, because A.) I LIKE nerdy- I think it's endearing, but B.) I guess because I have dark hair and eyes, I'm usually attracted to similar looking guys? Probably true.

So while at her party, sipping on strong- nay lethal- margaritas, AG came over to point out the single guys in the group who were hanging out near the bar. We had all seen them and decided that AG's 17-year-old brother was better-looking than the lot of the Ft. Worth guys. True story.

We proceeded to sit and have dinner, and while AG was mingling from table to table, she came to us and said "okay they're all asking about you guys and wanted to know who is single." The funny thing was that none of them had approached us all night. MK, who met literally everyone there and spent some quality time at the great aunts and grandmas table, had met all of them briefly but had to initiate the introduction. Let me also clarify that these guys aren't fresh out of college- they're all pushing if not already 30. 30! I am no stranger to shyness but seriously- there were not that many of us and we are far from unapproachable. Many of them had mothers in attendance, and I'm not sure if that hindered the situation.


We were sitting at a table after dinner and some of them got to up say their good-byes and leave. A few brave souls stopped by our table to say that they were going out to some nondescript bar in Ft. Worth (a city that took the capabilities of three women, my car and my iPhone's navigational systems), if we wanted to come. Oh really? You don't say a word all night and then mention going to a bar when you've got one foot out the door?

I don't really understand it- we ended up going out in Ft. Worth afterwards and some of the guys who had mentioned the idea weren't even the ones who came along. The way men and women communicate with each other, or fail to do so, never ceases to amaze me.

It's funny because I don't go into those situations expecting to meet guys- I don't like the idea of being on the prowl in general, much less at a party where marriage is already the primary topic of conversation. Add that to the fact that I enjoy catching up on life and whatnot with my busy friends, on a rare occasion when we are all in the same place at the same time, and I would probably prefer hanging out with them 99 times out of 100.

Is it a wonder I don't date more?

“No one will ever win the battle of the sexes; there's too much fraternizing with the enemy.”
-Henry Kissinger

I'd like an adult beverage and a children's menu...

Those nights are rare that start out as one thing and end up completely surprising you.

Saturday night I met up with my friends CC and MG, who had signed us up to volunteer serving Valentine's dinner for couples at a church in Dallas. CC, who constantly has an unrivaled number of weddings to attend, had been at a bridal shower for a friend from high school. MG, a high school teacher, had been at a track meet with her runners all day. CC was still in her bridal shower attire, a tasteful Anthropologie top, skirt and heels, and MG was wearing a mom cardigan. I had on a black turtleneck sweater dress and black tights.

Anthro Skirt, Mom Cardigan and Black Widow. Ready for Valentine’s Day.

The people we were serving live in Dallas but were born or raised in Africa, which made the fact that we were serving Mexican food all the more entertaining. I spent at least 90 minutes explaining the relative merits of enchiladas to each person we served.

Once the dinner was underway, it was time to clean. Only, wait! Someone ordered food for the volunteers, including but not limited to shrimp fried rice, lo mein, three different kinds of pizza all including pineapple, French fries, fettucine alfredo (which looked more like fettucine cheddar), spaghetti, sweet potato chips, etc. We found ourselves in the church’s kitchen, completely over food and trying to get the cleaning in process. That’s when we discovered that there was only one functioning sink. One, and no dishwasher, for the dishes of about 150 people. A guy was already starting on the dishes and did not want anyone assisting him, for whatever reason, so we tried to scrape all the dishes as they came through and stack them neatly on a push-cart for him.

I have a nice visual memory of CC pushing the cart, towering in dishes, in her Anthro skirt and peep-toe heels, and MG grabbing an industrial-sized trash bag out of a can and commenting that you could keep a dead body in it. Ah, memories.

We wrapped up our duties around 9:30 and once separated from the kitchen found that we were, in fact, hungry and in need of a drink. We landed on a place called Snuffer’s, a restaurant and bar with adult beverages and kid’s menus, known for their cheese fries. Completely unromantic and not a couple in sight, it was the perfect setting for our Valentine’s evening. Our waiter Charlie was on the chatty side and started off on a great foot by asking where our dates were.

A Message, from the Single Female Community: do not ask why I'm not out with a guy on Valentine's Day. I am not wallowing in self-pity, I am enjoying a random evening with friends, I am clearly not on a date, so do you really have to ask? I think you can answer that question for yourself, thanks.

At the end of our meal he insisted we each try a chocolate cake shot. He said they actually had real chocolate cake as well, but that we didn’t look like girls who ate dessert. Thanks for the added charm, Charles. Since it seemed like an appropriate-enough way to end our evening, we obliged and ordered a round.

We finished and were taken off-guard by the sudden presence of a guy who was not our waiter, leaning over the railing that blocked in one side of our booth. He was wearing a t-shirt bearing the name of the bar, looked a little buzzed and had mutton-chop sideburns. A winner. He tried unsuccessfully for a few minutes to make small talk and chided us for not waiting for him to take our shots.

He left for a brief moment and we started asking each other what just happened? while trying not to laugh. MG and I were on one side of the booth, facing a wall, while CC was sitting on the other side, facing the bar and the action. CC’s blue eyes got big and she uttered her token phrase, “oh help!”

Mutton Chops returned, only this time wearing a bunny ears headband and bearing another round of shots. He failed to tell us what kind they were, and dismissed himself to go help some customers. MG examined and said “I think it’s a blowjob…” as Charlie returned, asking where our most recent round came from. MG voiced her speculation and he confirmed that she was correct.

MG told CC that she was supposed to put her arms behind her back and pick up the shot glass with her mouth, to which we heard another “oh help.” We took them, only with our hands, and by that time Charlie was inquiring as to our post-dinner plans, wanting to make sure we were going out afterward. Oh yes Charlie, of course.

Has anyone else ever heard of a Red Light/Green Light party? To use Facebook terminology, if you are In a Relationship, you wear red, so that you can attend the party and people won't hit on you. If you are Single, you wear green, and basically allowing permission for people to approach you. If you're wearing yellow, then It's Complicated.

Walking into a bar in the yuppie area of Dallas last night was like walking into a St. Patrick's Day parade. Everyone was wearing green, figuratively speaking, since the implication is that if you are out on Valentine's Day, you are single. Since all three of us had seen He's Just Not That Into You, we were keenly aware of the reeking desperation everywhere. We were roaming to a less crowded part of the bar and CC had the fortune of running into two friends who had been at the bridal luncheon earlier in the day.

She mentioned that next time we go out and run into girls from her high school, to give her some warning and she would be sure not to be wearing the same outfit from 12 hours prior. Duly noted.

We politely escaped from them and CC sat in an open bar seat. We were talking and all noticed the same guy slowly creeping over to her, not saying a word. He was practically giving her a hickey and CC was about to koala-cling onto MG, so after silently communicating the same thing to each other, we skirted away. We left the bar soon after and were barely outside before we heard “C!! Omigosh I would know that hair anywhere!” CC, with her curly brown hair, turned around to get mauled by a blond girl wearing a black sequined mini skirt, or lack there-of, who apparently played basketball with her years ago. I believed it, considering she had seen half of her graduating class up to that point.

The designated driver, I dropped them off at their respective homes and was snuggled in bed by 1:30 a.m., exhausted.

A night for the books, and a Happy Valentine's Day indeed.

"E is even more than anyone that you adore..."
-L-O-V-E, Words by Milt Gabler