climbing right back up on my stilettos...

My weekend was kinda interesting. It started off with a funny facebook message from Miss Brit commenting on my mopey single girl post:

babydoll...only hang up your single stilettos if, you are truly ready to commit to the marital flat m'love. I'll have no friend of mine removing their Louboutin's or Charlotte Russe's on a 5 year plan. Where is my city girl and what have you done with her. Save the mopy for another blog. There are 1.3437909277 million DECENT men in NY to give a shot...that's a somewhat hopeful start. Until 32, I'll be your +1.

Is the ratio of men to women really 1:9 in NYC? I've got to look that up. Anyway, I can always count on Miss Brit to make me laugh and pep talk me into strutting my tush back into the meat market. I went to meet Bionic Woman and her friends at a bar in Queens and my swagger quickly turned into a... swatter? I spent most of the night recoiled in the corner of the dance floor swatting gross hands that reached out for a dance. I don't know what cave these men were raised in but in my world you can't approach women with a grab and a pull. Nor can you shimmy your pelvis behind someone who isn't even dancing. I was so skeeved out and the five football player like guys that were with my friends couldn't protect me. I decided to Irish Exit, running out the door.

What is wrong with these guys? Is this all that's left? I tried not to let it get to me. I'll just cross this bar off the list. Never again. I missed S. I wanted to call him but it was too late and I knew I would only embarrass myself at that hour. Right then TA texted me and I thought, oh thank god, finally a decent guy! And then I realized how warped that thought was. If TA is considered a decent guy I knew it was time to....to call it a night.

I was incredibly hungover on Saturday and wanted to do nothing but eat vats of Velveeta Mac n Cheese and watch back to back Friday Night Lights. My phone was vibrating off its charger and all I could think was, "I can't. I just can't." After staying in bed till 9PM, coffee, a hot shower, and pep talks from Bionic Woman and Elfin I decided to be a grandma when I'm dead. Or, you know what I mean. I met the girls at Gansevoort Hotel for some martinis, stopped for a pizza, and then headed to a no name bar in the Lower East. When I got to the bar, I sat on the couch and it flipped over. I can only conclude that this was from my weight. Bionic Woman jumped up with the speed of (something really fast) and sat on the other end to even out the weight. Now that's a true friend. At the end of the night I left with Elfin, bought a pint of chocolate chip ice cream and watched Up in bed.

I often wonder, why can't I just marry my best friends?