Girls Night Out Meets Boys Night Out

Have you ever had those nights when you just don’t feel like going out, but everybody else does?  

I’ve never really been a big fan of gender-exclusive outings, mostly because I have more fun flirting with guy friends that I know vs. guys I don’t know, but regardless, there I was nudging myself to participate in Girls Night at Pioneer Bar in New York City.

As I dragged my feet up to the door, kicking and screaming for my male companions, I flung myself into the mayhem of an overcrowded bar buzzing with hot guys and well dressed women and immediately regretted my rebellious choice in clothing – jeans and a tee-shirt. Girls Night requires cute shoes, a short dress, tousled hair and fun jewelry.  This was going to be a long night of feeling like a Freshman at Senior Prom, so I ordered myself a beer and parked my bootie on a bench, accepting my fate of wallflowering.  

The obnoxious deafening sound of 100 competing conversations reverberating off of the high ceilings and concrete floors muted when our eyes met.

I rarely find myself attracted or interested in anyone and that night was not the night for romance – I was not prepared to meet the hottest guy in the bar who wanted to talk to me nor did I fathom that anyone would even notice the wallpaper that was I; but our eyes were locked on each other as I painted on my make-up, dabbed on perfume and shaved my legs in my imagination.

Damn it Finney!! You KNOW you always meet cute guys when you look like shit! You should have at least swapped out your lip balm for your lipstick this time.  Fine if you don’t want to get dolled up, but have an emergency kit in your purse... PLEASE!

Thank god I’m an actor. I can just act like I’m looking good. No need to apologize for my disheveled mess as I toss back beers by myself in the corner.  I’m cool. 

He and his group of guy friends were sitting at the table next to me and my group of girlfriends. Oh how cute – girl at Girls Night Out meets boy at Boys Night Out. My friends all had their backs turned to me, talking to whatever peope had their interest, and his buddies were all busy flirting with some gals on their end, so that left just he and I, looking at each other.  

Our conversation continued on through the whole night. The entire world blurred into the background as he and I sat there, crystal clear, having an exciting conversation about our lives, the world, our families... Everything you can think of that was super cool to talk about, we covered it.  

That sparkle in his eyes that told me “Oh my god, I just met someone!” was thrilling. I abandoned my crappy beer and upgraded to cocktails, the embarrassing plain-Jane look I was sporting didn’t seem to bother me anymore, I felt like the most beautiful girl there. His name was Mitch.  (Does that ruin it? The name Mitch doesn’t really send tingles to my toes, but regardless, that was his name.)

After about two hours of this Love-At-First-Sight experience, me meeting his friends, him meeting my friends, our friends meeting each other and etc., he excused himself to the bar and asked what I’d like to drink.  The moment he was gone, Tim, his best friend, pulled me aside.

Theresa, I know this is going to sound weird, we all love you and think you are beautiful, but we are all standing over there totally jealous and pissed off.

 What?

Mitch is engaged, Theresa. In fact, we are all out tonight celebrating his engagement.  And it just pisses us all off that the ONE person in our group who is actually NOT available is the one talking to you. Blow him off and come talk to us!

At this point, I’ve turned a bright shade of red and my acid reflux has already burned a permanent hole in my throat.   It was at that very moment that I realized that Love-At-First-Sight is a load of crizzap. 

He returned with my Jack & Ginger, and the fact that my fury had melted the ice in my cocktail before I even took it from him was his indication that something went awry while he was gone being such a gentlemen at the bar buying me a drink. I wish I could say that I threw both Jack AND Ginger in his face, but I was so paralyzed with anger and embarrassment that all I could do was stand there like a deer in the headlights wondering why my beverage was hot.

My anger causes me to go numb at times and at that moment, when my world spun out of control, you could have hit me over the head with a friggen skillet and I would not have reacted. 

Congratulations

Huh? 

Congratulations on your engagement, Mitch. I’m so happy for you.

He launched into a diatribe of babble but all I could hear was my made up version of his nonsense “I’m an ass hole, I’m a fake, I’m an ass hole, I’m a fake, I’m an ass hole, I’m a fake”. 

My reaction to his excuses that I could not hear thru the angry white noise in my ears was a blank Bambi stare.

Theresa – I swear to GOD I am NOT engaged! Tim said that to you to win you over. He LIED! Dude, Theresa, seriously… Tim’s just pissed off because he wanted you to like HIM. I promise you, Theresa. I promise you... Why would I talk to you all night like that if I were engaged? I’m not engaged. Please believe me.

Bambi may be cute, but Bambi ain’t dumb.

Fine, if you’re not engaged, then meet me outside in 5 minutes. I’m going to get a cab and take you home with me.  

Bambi knows how to call a wolf’s bluff.

I walked outside feeling destroyed, stood on the sidewalk and hailed a cab. I turned around to find him standing on the top step of the bar stoop, unable to put that next foot forward which would prove my fears wrong. Apologies for me and fear for his unhappy future flickered in his eyes. 

And there was my answer.

I climbed into the cab.

7^th and Union in Park Slope Please? .... YES that’s Brooklyn! Get over it!