Sunday, January 27, 2013

Oh miracle o' miracles:

I went out last night. I hear adults normally go "out," but I'm both shy and fearful of the cold. As in, 9 times out of 10, I won't dress up for a below freezing winter night in which I have to wear short sleeves for inside. But let it be known that I love to dress up classy.
I need to go out in this outfit next time.
The prerequisite guy standing outside the door to check ID throws me. I can never find mine right away, so last night I brought my smallest purse: a blue leather Tiganello crossbody I got at Marshalls a couple years ago. My voice is high-pitched, so the bartenders can't hear me if it's crowded. It was crowded. The shy factor ensures that it takes me about 2 hours to get comfortable enough to dance. What happens before then is plain awkward, and I hope no one ever records me and then makes me watch it.

Confession. Mostly what gets me is I'm no stunning beauty and I'm not a slutty drunk, so not enough guys hit on me. Ugh, it hurts my pride to say that. It's not like I want to hook up with a guy I just met in a bar. Drunk isn't the best first impression. It's probably some messed up psychological thing that makes me mentally compete with whatever girls I go with to the bar. I have issues. I need to stay away from the super-crowded dancing bars. Or do I need to go more often so I get used to it and can just lalala in my own headspace? But I already spend too much time in my own headspace.

Anyway, shame. I will say, one thing I like about being in a relationship is that I stop looking at men. When I'm single, I hate the mental cataloging I do of every man I see, looking for potential date material. I can't turn it off. Is it genetic wiring? Mostly I stay away from dancey bars. I go for nerdy guys anyway; they're endearing. I don't think they're really found there.
Somebody buy me flowers.

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