So Saturday, after I ran the damn dam and discovered an odd combination of extreme wind and extreme heat that I didn’t think quite mixed, I headed over to a friend’s house right around the corner from the lake to jump in their pool. About 30 minutes after that their dog died. I swear I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried. And while that’s not funny, I’m coming to discover that maybe, just maybe, my social awkwardness is translating into doomsday. I mean, on a (in my head this is) related note, if I quit asking how your current relationship/marriage/health is it is not for lack of caring, it is because you inevitably will answer donezo/over/poor. And so I resolve that if I don’t ask, things are great. (As far as I know, anyway.) It’s no more “So how are you today?” and all “Let’s talk about me.” That’s not selfishness, that’s “I don’t want to be a contributing factor to your ill fate.” And just so you know how I got here, I’ll go ahead and say that if your dog/cat/pocketbook are in bad shape I’m no longer coming around. Because once one dog dies after I show up, I’m quite certain you don’t want me to get anywhere near anyone else’s spazzing pets. And for that matter, I’m a little bit of a shopping enabler myself. So pocketbooks beware.
On that note, Saturday pre-death I was driving around running errands from my tailor to Earth Fare when I got a call from the Anthropologie in Nashville letting me know that my skirt was going to be released onto the floor that evening if I did not let them know for sure that I wanted it before then. Apparently I missed the call letting me know there was a skirt on hold for me at the Anthropologie in Nashville, but I digress. In my size and half off the website price? I’m all over that. Free shipping? I think we’ve discovered the new way to shop, thank you very much Anthropologie.
I swear, I know I’m slightly obsessive about this, but Anthropologie brings great things. Like Saturday night I was at a wedding by myself (courtesy of no “And guest”) and I think I was running on about an hour and a half of no one speaking to me (everyone I knew was in the wedding party and therefore taking pictures) when I wandered outside and found a woman, also alone. When I said “I love your dress. It’s from Anthropologie, right?”, I swear I had not only a new best friend but someone that was oddly impressed by my knowledge. (There’s a first.) Shockingly enough, when her husband returned from the bar and introduced himself, they discovered they knew my dad. From 35 years ago, I shit you not. As his next door neighbors while he was in law school, they described him as a “party animal.” So I know they must be somewhat confused.
But you know what? If a conversation about Anthropologie is what it takes for a chick to talk to me, then so be it. Because last week I was going to dinner with a group of guys after an event and the other [adult] female who would be in attendance, WITHOUT EVEN EVER MEETING ME, said to one of the men, “We’re going to G&V and I would appreciate if she didn’t come.” I mean, wtf. I don’t know what crawled up in her mint green leather suit and died but it was way harsh.
On the contrary there are guys. And guys tend to be much cooler. You see, that same night one leaned in (after someone told him they were giving me his email address so that I could send him some information) and said to me, “Feel free to email me anytime.” Great! Next time I’m awake at 4 am I’m going to send him some lines from Dr. Seuss. Oh, too much? No worries. I looked him up on facebook in true stalker fashion to discover he is the friend of an ex. I managed to squash all entertainment that would have come from emailing him in one swift facebook search. Amazing how that happens right when I’m on the hunt for a new pen pal. My inbox is looking kind of boring as of late. Ahem. Carry on, friends.