Girls Night Out was totally fun.
We had a nice Italian dinner. The food was great, but it was one of those open air, fancy-schmancy sort of places that's missing its front wall so that everyone can walk by and see the good looking people inside. It had just finished raining so it was as hot and humid as hell itself. I was wearing a small dress and had moisturized very well beforehand, so I felt totally sweaty and slick (in a bad way) the whole time. Damn Florida humidity, wrecking hair, makeup and lives on a daily basis.
I was relieved when the single lady of our group suggested the next location and was grateful that it had 4 walls, doors and cold air. It was the sort of place where the lighting scheme changes every minute as the dorky DJ relives the glory years he missed out on in high school and the patrons all stand awkwardly around the bar thinking they are hot stuff.
So there we were, shouting over a remix of "I Wear My Sunglasses at Night" as our faces switched from red to green to blue to silvery-white, having fun people-watching and laughing from our big round booth, when the inevitable sleaze bag made his move. "Imma buy all you ladies shots," he said, flashing his fake diamond watch with the fake leather band.
"Dude, save your money. We're old. We're waiting for coffee," I replied, wishing very much that it was the sort of place that served coffee.
"No one's ever said that to me. Y'all don't look old," Sleazy McCheesy said, sliding into the booth. "Whatchoo all doin' after?"
"Going home to our husbands."
"Imma write my number on your hand. You'll be callin' me later," he said, reaching for my arm and pulling out a pen.
"No, sir! You most certainly will not be writing anything anywhere on me. For real."
"Aww, shit. Well, Imma write it on this napkin. Don't lose it!" We rolled our eyes at each other and laughed as he scribbled it down and danced away. My friend pulled the napkin in front of her and wrote GROSS!! under his number and got up to use the restroom.
A few minutes later, he comes dancing back over and spots the napkin. "What?! Did you write that under my number? What the fuck, ladies?" We laughed.
"I like your watch," Girl Crush offered.
"Oh yeah, you like that, don'tcha?" He flashed his ridiculous bling and lifted his shirt so we could see his abs.
"Did you get it at Best of Everything? That accessory store downtown?"
"Bitch, please. You know this shit be real." At this point we were cracking up and his friends at the next booth were howling with laughter and snapping pictures with their iphones. The manager walked over and asked if everything was all right, escorting him back to his own area before we could even calm down long enough to answer.
I did tell Girl Crush about the discussion our sons had about her husband shaving his butt--we laughed until we couldn't breathe over that one and then text messaged her husband to share the embarrassment. At one drunken point in the evening, we even had a long conversation about her amazing boobs.
It was 100% fun with no awkwardness at all! Instant friendship, just add alcohol. The Summer of Socialness may end up being more enjoyable than I had thought.