Sunday, February 17, 2008

Non Sequitorial Currents

Last night I went out for Tammy's 30th birthday party. There was a group of about 15 of us, first for dinner at Southern Accent (the panko encrusted cod was fantastic) then to the Biermarket on the Esplanade to dance and drink. It was so much fun to hang out with Tam and her friends from university; to see her boyfriend, Doug, and chat with him, since he and I rarely see each other; to get caught up with her brother, Michael, and make a new friend in his girlfriend, Andrea. I haven't been out to anything resembling a club in forever. And, as much as I love people watching, it didn't take long until I realized why I don't go to establishments like this anymore.

Soon after getting there, Tam and I went to the Ladies. After doin' our thang, we had to cross the packed dance floor to get back to our gang. A man was in the way of our progress, so he politely moved and I said, 'Thank you,' and he said, 'I'm married.' I actually stopped. 'What...?' He backed up another small step. 'I'm married.' I know I furrowed my brow. Did I accidently say, 'Fuck me,' when I was pretty sure I'd said, 'Thank you'? Is this his way, maybe, of starting a conversation? - because we all know that single women see married men as a challenge, as having a proven track record in commitment and this makes them sooo attractive to us lonely gals. Maybe I should have said, 'congratulations.' Instead, I stressed, 'I said thank you,' with what I hope was a confused and irritated enough tone to get across the point that good manners have nothing to do with marital status. But, maybe he's just covering his ass in an atmosphere where the unwritten rule is that if you do talk with someone of the opposite sex, it's only for one reason - apathetic unfriendliness equals safety from unwanted attention.

Yeah, in these environments I just end up feeling super-self-conscious, hyper-aware of my mistrust of men and their intentions, extra-sensitive about my age (although I look younger than quite a few of the women there). But, it never crossed my mind to say something like, 'I'm 38,' or, 'I don't give head till the fourth date,' if a guy were to say, 'excuse me,' as he passed. Or, maybe I should. Now, there's a social(izing) experiment.

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