Sunday Night

Sunday was hellacious at work. I mean Hellacious! I won't talk about it because really I have tried to block it out of my mind. I hate people. Especially people that eat in restaurants on Sundays. Anyway, that's not the point of this post.

After a miserable Sunday, my friend Robbie* and I went out. We were both cut early and decided to drink ourselves silly to forget the day. He lives in East Atlanta which is pretty far from our work and my house. I made the trek down to his area. I was rushing to get there since it was Sunday and the bars close at 12. We had two hours to drink and we needed to get on it! We went to this place called "Blake's". There was a drag show going on (oh, Robbie is gay and wanted to take me out to see the Atlanta gay nightlife). The bar was a blast and this one Tina Turner impersonator was out of this world. She(he) could shake it fast and kick those legs high! Fantastic! Great Energy. There was one guy that we were talking to that Robbie liked. The guy was totally cheesey, the orangest fakest tan ever, built body with muscleman tank top on, the cocky smile and laugh. Turns out the guy's got a great personality. He was really funny and was pretty smart. Too bad he was such a cheeseball. We were downing our vodka tonics quickly. The night was easily going by with lots of laughter and small talk.

The thing that was crazy to me was realizing girly tactics I use. I never thought that I did flirty things or looked through my eyelashes a certain way, the coy smile, shoulders back. They were unconscious behaviors (at least for me). I never realized I did those things until I was at the bar trying to get the bartender's attention and it hit me that my body language wasn't working, he's looking at the guy next to me, not little ol' me. There were many men that were very attractive but it didn't matter, they didn't want me, I was a girl.

The bar closed and for some reason the bar nextdoor, Gilbert's (gay too), served until 2 am (on a Sunday?). We decided to go. The little place was packed. We ran into some wonderful strangers. Lots of laughing and cheersing. I met a guy named Billy. If I were a gay boy I would have fallen in love. We got along like two peas in a pod. We were having the best time. We topped our evening of vodka tonics off with an apple martini (me) and a cosmo (Robbie). We were pushed out the door and headed back to Robbie's house. I stayed over because it was obvious that I was incapable of driving 30 minutes back home.

At his house we ate and talked and talked and talked. It was getting super late and we needed to sleep. We both had to work the next day. The night ended with me and Robbie in his bed. We shared stories and laughed a lot (just like junior high girls) and finally concluded it with one iPod earbud in my ear, the other in his, singing Beatles tunes.



*not his real name