This weekend I went to a party. A party full of single fraternity dudes and sorority
hoochie hoes ladies. On the rare occasions Shawn and I get invited to these parties, I usually fake menstrual cramps, a raging case of diarrhea, or death to get out of them. But parties are so much fun, Chelsea. What is your problem? I will give you four semi-sufficient reasons for why I'd rather hang out at home and watch Friends reruns/sleep/Facebook stalk ex-boyfriends/mow the lawn than go hang out with a bunch of strangers trying to get in each other's pants.
1. I'm married. My wedding ring may as well be my own personal cloak of invisibility when I'm hanging out with a bunch of single strangers.
2. My husband is the only one I
can should flirt with. And I don't need a party to do that. We can do that at home. Naked.
Here's some space to clear your mind of that last superb mental image.
3. I judge the shiiii out of all the slutty broads and douchey-looking guys. (And I'm sure there is some fortune cookie or Dove Chocolate wrapper somewhere out there that predicts bad karma for all the haterjudgers in the world.)
4. Very rarely, being at those parties makes me kind of miss being single. Which in turn makes me feel like the most terrible wife in the history of ever.
See? So either I'm justified, or just really truly lame. You know, or both. (And let me just emphasize that I've got nothing against the single people - 97% of my friends are still single, and 3 years ago I'da rocked that ish. I'm just an old fart, apparently.)
Anyways, this weekend was different. One of our really good friends (I'm talking he was the best man and maid of honor at our wedding) had a birthday this last week. One of his fraternity buddies decided to throw an End of the World/Surprise Birthday party. I'm not sure which half was the afterthought, but in any event, it was something that the husband and I felt like we should probably attend.
We walk downstairs with our birthday buddy into a room full of strangers, half of which manage to throw out a half-assed "Surpriiiiiiise!" upon his arrival. I think it actually took him a couple minutes to register that the party was actually for him.
We say hi to the 4 or 5 people we actually knew, and take residence on the couch. I talk to some friends while simultaneously fighting the urge to go tuck a handful of butt cheeks back into their respective booty shorts. I made fun of all the half-dressed girls dancing with each other only to look over and see my husband and a couple of our guy friends gawking at them. Upon noticing me, noticing them noticing the girl on girl ass jigglery happening in the corner - they hurriedly looked away and exclaimed that they were just trying to figure out what exactly it was that the girls were doing. To which I said, "Whatever they're doing, it's obviously working." Ah men, such simple creatures.
As much as I don't particularly enjoy going to these parties often, they definitely have some perks. One of them being that I can pretty much act however I want, because I don't have a single dang person to impress. And that is definitely one perk I bring onto the dance floor. Yeah, baby. It ain't a party if there isn't a super cool married broad cuttin' the shi out of a rug.
So there I am with a girlfriend I've recently made (she thinks I'm funny, so obviously I instantly like her), openly mocking the Zumba girls in the corner and reminding my husband of all the moves I learned in my all too educational pole dancing class, when some random girl - who I've never seen or met in my life - looks at me completely surprised and starts emphatically pointing at my ring finger and exclaims, "You're married?! But you're like.... cool!?" ........... What. a. concept! A cool married person? By her expression, you'd have thought that I was the last cool married person on planet Earth. She quickly followed up her surprise with, "So, like, does your husband let you come to these parties a lot?" Instead of retorting with the largely sarcastic response I had concocted in my mind, I instead just turned around and pointed to my husband (who managed to "forget" his wedding ring, by the way) sitting on the couch behind me. She looked a little bit confused, and a little bit like she just saw a purple unicorn. In any event, it was amusing and irritating all at the same time. What is with everyone thinking married people sit around and knit sweaters all day? C'mon now.
My husband and his buddy finally started to get bored, so we gradually made our way out. A few people asked why we were leaving "so early" to which I flashed the ol' diamond ring at them and said that according to married standard time, it was practically 3 in the morning.
I actually had a decent time. Because I secretly like acting like an idiot and being the center of attention. And because I secretly like judging all the slutty girls. And because I secretly like proving to people that I don't have to be single, dress like a slut, or drink alcohol to have a good time.
And because I know you're dying for a mental image... I stole one off of FB. Don't judge my lack of blurring skills... I think the circles do their job just fine.
And just in case you're wondering what exactly my husband is doing, he's doing his goofy little wave to me - because we're in love, and special like that.
Anyways, my husband just said, "Love, I'm afraid you're going to leave me for your blog" and then mooned me. So that is probably my cue.