What do you get when Valentine’s Day falls over President’s Day weekend? An absurd combination of pickup lines and blacking out. Here’s how it went…
After work, Twin and I went to her place in Queens, stopping on the way home to pick up massively over-sized bagel sandwiches and an equally massively over-sized bottle of red wine. We ate and had a bit of wine while we waited for her best-friend-from-college, E, to arrive from tiny-town Maine. E arrived, we finished the bottle of wine, got ready, took shots (of vodka from a plastic bottle), filled Twin’s flask (with vanilla vodka from a glass bottle), and went on our way out. Only…we had no plans.
We ended up at a classy establishment on the UES known as The Stumble Inn around 11:30 or so. Agreeing to buy rounds, we immediately started in on vodka/sodas, G&Ts, and rum-and-diets. At one point, E was attacked by a tall skinny black dude announcing that he went to the same college and ohmygod he’s been in love with her for years and what year did she graduate again? Skinny Dude’s skinny blond girlfriend was not a big fan of this love declaration and sent evil glances in our direction the rest of the night (we found this to be hilarious).
As we got drunker and E began demonstrating some clutch belly dancing moves, the three of us were approached by two guys…Beret and Bob Dole. Bob Dole had interest in speaking only to Twin and E; conveniently, Beret wanted to chat with me. His agenda, however, was entirely unclear, because the conversation-slash-immediate-argument went like this:
Beret: So, you have a hot date planned for tomorrow?
Me: No, I’m not that into Valentine’s Day.
Beret: Oh, so you must be single.
Me: Well, yeah, but I really just don’t care about the holiday that much.
Beret: Yeah right, all girls care.
Me: …I don’t…
Me: Why do you care?
Beret: I pretend to care because girls like you care.
Me: Except I don’t care, so we can all just stop pretending, right?
Beret: Oh I get it. You’re like one of those neo-feminism types who hates men!
Beret: I’ve figured it out. It’s like in high school, when the loser guys who try out for the football team don’t get picked and then they act like they never cared in the first place. You pretend you hate Valentine’s Day because you just couldn’t get a date.
Me [incredulous]: … … …
Beret: Are you or are you not on the football team?
Me: …Um, I’m not on the football team?
What. The. Fuck.
A lot more happened on Saturday night than will be here, partly because this is just too long now, but also because I blacked out really early and couldn’t tell you half of it.
In general, two hilariously awesome things happened. First, a couple girls and I went to see “Confessions of a Shopaholic” (much better than I was expecting) and about halfway through, a woman got up and left. She came back about 30 minutes later…with shopping bags. I could not make that up.
Then, a group of us went to this Anti-Valentine’s Day party where we got 1/2 a playing card at the door and if we found the match, each person got a free drink. This led to obligatory chatting with random guys, which normally would be fine, except my friends and I were the youngest ones there by at least 10 years.
The longest conversation I had was with a tall, somewhat flabby, early-30’s type with a receding hairline.
Early-30’s: So what did you study in school?
Me: I was an English major.
Early-30’s: Do you know what alacrity means?
Me: Um, in context, but I can’t recite a definition right now.
Early-30’s: It means joyful and happy.
Early-30’s: What’s a big word you know that I might not?
Me: I don’t do vocab quizzes.
Early-30’s: I just read Wuthering Heights. Who’s it by?
Me: One of the Bronte sisters.
Early-30’s: What does the phrase ‘hale and sinewy’ mean?
Me: Um, healthy and lean.
Again, the direction of this conversation-slash-English-quiz was very unclear. Then I blacked out and wore glow-stick-glasses and got a rose and possibly died in a cab. Happy Valentine’s Day!