I am consistently amazed that I manage to make my life sound interesting in this blog. It’s been almost a year now and somehow, through the magic of colorful language and lies, I have retained a somewhat captive audience while writing about what I do, which isn’t much different than what I did before I wrote a blog, which was nothing. Except now I write about it.
I was all set to have an exciting holiday weekend and come back here weaving tales of debauchery, adventure, cooking and robbery. Then I settled down in my apartment last night, absolutely exhausted, and realized that I had done nothing of consequence. Now that I think about it, my expectations were a little high considering it was Easter weekend, which on the scale of “Awesome Sexy Holidays!” ranks somewhere above Veteran’s Day and below Secretary’s Day.
[As an aside, is there any holiday that degrades more with age than Easter does? It seems that while other children’s holidays make a simple transition into mature holidays (Halloween: trick or treating à getting laid, Valentine’s Day: secret admirers à getting laid, Christmas: Santa Clause à buying expensive presents for people so they’ll love you) Easter goes from painting eggs and the Easter Bunny to brunch with your parents. Not that I’m complaining about brunch. But minus the sex and presents brunch isn’t exactly “Dear Diary” worthy.]
What Easter should be about.
Upon further contemplation, though, I realized that boring isn’t always bad. I mean, that OJ Simpson car chase seemed pretty exciting, right? But then he got framed for murdering his wife and her lover, so that’s not the good kind of exciting. Much like that, my weekend wasn’t the bad kind of boring. In fact, when I compare it with some other people’s more exciting weekends, I’m pretty sure I’d choose mine every time. To wit:
My Weekend (Boring)
The Girlfriend and I went out to dinner on Friday night with another couple. Two bottles of wine and the pasta was good. We finished around 10:30 and any thought of continuing the night somewhere else was dashed by the time we stepped outside. I was in bed by 11:30 after watching half an hour of Titanic.
Saturday The Girlfriend and I hitched a ride out to my parents house on Long Island. The Girlfriend got her haircut by a gay man who, months earlier, had checked me out when I went to pick up my mother after her appointment.
Some friends come over for a barbecue. We gossip, eat a filthy amount of meat and drink Rob Roys. At one point my mother recounts the story of the gay hairdresser checking me out. As everyone is laughing, I take it a bit too far and, to the horror of my father standing adjacent to me, slap my own ass and proclaim “I still got it!” The night goes downhill from there and everyone is on their way home by 10:00.
Sunday morning I go to brunch with my family, catch a train back to the city and finish off the day by cleaning my bathroom. I pause while scrubbing the toilet to look wistfully into space to consider my good fortune.
How did I get so lucky?
A Friend’s Weekend (Moderately Exciting)
Before coming to my parents house to recount his tale, a friend of mine went out on Friday night with a group of friends. Two of the people at the outing were an engaged couple, who obviously stood out amongst a backdrop of entirely single friends. At one point late in the night, it became painfully clear that the girl portion of this engaged couple was blatantly hitting on my friend. I know, I know, every female reading this is incredulously thinking, “What, did she bump into his arm at the bar? Did she congratulate him on a burp?” No. There is what men hopefully interpret as flirting and then there is the undeniable come-on of grinding your ass into someone else’s crotch, the body language equivalent of asking a guy if he has any porn you two could watch together.
This of course launches a massive dinner-table debate concerning the ethics of the situation:
Men: “Obviously there’s something wrong with the relationship and she’s crying out for help.”
Women: “She doesn’t sound like the kind of girl you would want to get involved with anyway.”
Me: “The question is: How far are you willing to go in your courageous efforts to prevent her from making the biggest mistake of her life?”
Friend: “I think I’m ready to be a hero.”
The Girlfriend: “What if her fiancé hunts you down?”
Friend: “I could definitely take him in a fight . . .”
The Girlfriend: “I mean hunts you down with a gun.”
Friend: “ . . . and then he’d have the upper hand.”
See what I mean? Would I trade scrubbing my bathtub for the possibility of getting shot? No way!
A Friend’s Brother’s Weekend (Very Exciting)
My friend’s brother, who is a senior in college, lives with his best friend and another roommate in an apartment off campus near their school. He has been dating a girl for about nine months and they have been pretty serious.
A couple of weeks ago, his two roommates decide to take a trip to Oregon. My friend’s brother has to stay home for school, but his girlfriend really wants to go with them. He says fine, because I guess in college these things happen, although it’s been so long I honestly don’t remember.
Flash forward to this past week when my friend’s brother comes back to his apartment after a long weekend away to find that his best friend has moved out and, subsequently, MOVED IN WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND! No word from his friend, only messages from his now ex-girlfriend saying she’s sorry and, you know, hopefully they can stay friends. On top of it all, it seems that his best friend has never even had a girlfriend before, allegedly having never even kissed a girl before.
That’s why I only date married men.
Now, I know you might not call this situation “exciting,” per se. But you certainly wouldn’t be bored if it was you. Indeed, you would probably be extremely excitable, prone to bouts of hysteria and fits of Machiavellian rage. They makes TV shows like “The OC” and “Judge Judy” about these type of situations! Of course they’re exciting! But not the GOOD kind of exciting.
So when it comes down to it, who had the best weekend here? Me, losing a little respect from my father but ultimately reaping the benefits of three course brunch and a clean shower? My friend, who might get stabbed? Or my friend’s brother who, I can only imagine, would read this and think “Boy, dickhead, brunch with your family, a girlfriend with a new haircut and an ass that won’t quit – yeah, you’ve got A LOT to complain about.”