I firmly believe in the whole "reaction to every action" theory out there. I say this because it seems as though whenever I suddenly become single, my dating life transforms into this major awkward hell-fire before settling down again. Having been in [any] previous relationship that allowed for you to be yourself, it's a bit hard to stay mysterious for the lucky first few dates you go on. I'm sure there are plenty of men out there who still refer to me as "that crazy bitch who made everything really weird".
Fortunately for me, they invented this magical elixir called Alcohol. This nectar of the Gods is able to take every strange moment and make it not only funny, but completely forgettable the next morning. UNfortunately, it's only forgettable to some, and regrettable for the rest.
Take, for instance, the night my ex and I broke up. After having been told that it was over, I called AC and she told me to come to R Bar in the tendernob-hill area for some warm, fuzzy liquid feelings to perk me back up. I have to say--this bar has to be one of my favorites in the City, despite having only been once. Not only did the bartender serve me drinks right as I was finished without asking, but they played the song, "Damn it feels good to be a Gangsta". Oh yes, yes it did.
Turns out my new single status wasn't the only thing to be celebrated, but also the birthday of AC's long-time friend, Z. After passing on the disgusting fernet shots she pushed in front of me, I was suddenly made aware that Z was Jewish.
Jewish, you say? You're kidding! When you have two Jews meet who are consistently surrounded by either atheists or christans/catholics (or raised as such), suddenly every single inside joke starts to come out. The guilt. The gefilte fish at Passover. The free trip to Israel (neither of us had taken it). We sat there and laughed our asses off for what felt like hours, both of us screaming out we had been "cheated" out of approximately 4,000 dollars and a computer every other Jewish kid our age got when they had their bar/bat mitzvah (neither of us had one).
It was at that point that AC mentioned she wanted to leave, and Z wanted to show us the new apartment two doors down he had just scored. Paying the tab and leaving, going up the elevator and into the door of his (very) small 1 bedroom apartment (/studio?), we were given the "grand" tour.
Out of nowhere, AC decides she wants to leave. I'm absolutely smashed but still coherent, and Z was obliterated. Apparently, when you drink your mind moves about half the pace it normally does. I know this because in the time that it took my brain to process AC was leaving, she had already gone out the door, down the stairs, and Z made a furious move on me. It was like he was attacking me with his mouth, and not the pleasant kind.
I kept stopping him. "You know, we should...:smooch: probably not...:smooch:...cause you know...:smooch:...just broken...:smooch:...my..ex...:smooch:..." I swear this lasted at least a good 15 minutes.
Suddenly, I couldn't take it anymore and jerked up in bed, grabbed my purse, yelling "I have to go! Sorry! I'm really sorry! This is really awkward, I'm sorry!"
I ran to my car, started bawling and didn't leave until I started sobering up. Actually, I think I was pretty fucking sober by this point, and I'm pretty sure that crying just allows alcohol to eject itself from your tearducts or something.
Last weekend I was at the kareoke bar in Nob Hill (see first entry), and I turn around to see Z passing me.
AC: "Do you remember her? The makeout/freakout in your apartment a few months ago?"
Z: "I don't remember going to that bar, actually."
Off the hook!
Note to self: make sure if you go out with AC's friends, that no one is having a birthday. It seems as though I end up making out with the birthday boy almost every single time (2 out of 3). Stop using me, or at least buy me a drink!