I hadn't showered and my hair was a mess, but there was no time now.
---
"Are you going out, too?"
:Yeah...:
"Where are you going??"
:To watch the same movie Andrew watched last night...:
"Who are you going with??"
:-----:
"...."
I had gone shopping, again, prompted mostly from Henry's exclamation that Express was having a sale, and having stopped into a couple of stores a little after our lunch out in Union Square, I drove out to a more local outdoor mall and made several purchases at Ann Taylor Loft, and Express. I bought mostly career clothes, seeing that I have next to no time to wear normal, street clothes, and a couple of relatively nice looking CHEAP, bright colored tank tops (one in yellow, and the other in red). I chose the yellow for the night, and a pair of diesel jeans, flats for dancing comfort, and adorned a navy blue sweatshirt with my flowy top bunched under my sweatshirt to avoid suspicion.
I learned the night before, when put on the guestlist that someone I had previously dated would also be going, per request from a high school friend. Somehow in the time that we stopped dating, and he deciding to part ways with Christianity, he had become rather close to my partying friend. Quite a change from the ways of Christianity, I might add.
For one odd reason or another, I had decided despite the lack of a shower, I would still try as best as I could to look presentable, partly knowing that the person I previously dated would be there. I threw on some eyeliner, and some blush... and 10 minutes later, I get a call, and although I had put my contacts on, with my eyeliner in place... I set my glasses atop, squinted not looking anywhere, or at anyone, in particular, and rushed out the door.
Two seconds later, I whip the glasses off my face, run to the passenger side of the car, and hop in, only to be greeted by my friend's usual gay humor, "ewww what are you wearing?".
Of course, the rest of the guys were dawdling, and we ended up back at my friend's house. With less pressure to hide, I head for the bathroom mirror, and put on the rest of my face. It was only half complete... with my new interest in upscale makeup, applying makeup had transformed into an art creation, each time.
After some slow driving on the freeway, we get to the Mason St., tenderloin district, club Crash. The event is Crash Fridays, a different theme each Friday, created for the masses, with unmatched parallels, even within it's own crowd scene. We had been somewhat misinformed, at least at the time, that the club was quite empty. We walked up to a line, and we were some 20 feet from the entrance, with a second line forming on the opposite side of the entrance. The promoter walked by, thankfully, and my friend secured our free entrance into the club. And with good timing... they started to make people on the guestlist pay $10 cover to get into the club, since it had passed 11PM.
Lo and behold, we walk into a near empty club, and I'm thoroughly disappointed. The guys walk towards what looked like the door to the men's bathroom, and the guys prompt me to follow. I'm a tad withdrawn because I'm not sure where they were leading me. And as it turns out, they were going downstairs TO the bathrooms, not INTO the men's bathroom. The bathroom is crowded with females all too heavily made up, and for the most part, they looked rather uncomfortable, and well, like they party a little too much. They're all scantily clad, and as it should be, I suppose, they are what makes the clubbing scene.
I have a brief conversation with the man sitting on a stool, and then amble up towards the party, only to find that we would go up to the next floor, where the real party was at. I had no idea that the themes and atmosphere would change so drastically, separated by two flights of stairs was what appeared to be a very small dance area, but was much fuller than the more eclectic floor downstairs. Most of the crowd was here, and just as expected, my company of all guys head towards the bar, and I was bought my first drink - redbull and vodka, by a pimply friend of my friend. I down that, no problem!
My own friend who had come with me was nowhere to be found, I see his head some minutes later, walking behind the girl that he had once liked, and vice versa, and I'm stuck with a bunch of guys who dance seldom, or not at all. I had anticipated it, going to the club with a group of guys who don't dance much or at all, or need company to dance well wasn't what I would think of as a good time, so I was somewhat prepared for the long night.
When my friend finally returns to me, he offers to buy a drink, and so goes my second drink - AMF. After a couple of sips, I realize the drink was almost entirely vodka, way too strong from what I've previously had, and in my college years, I would have downed the drink, no problem, but after some months of sobriety, I was not prepared to have a drunken night out with my group of all guy friends. Instead, I offer my drink to my guy friends, all of which turned my drink away with a curt "c'mon finish it, you bought it!"
After drinking most of the drink, I amble over to my friend waiting for the restroom, and we stand around until the restroom frees. While waiting, an old friend from college walks towards my area, and soon enough I learn of his recent relationship break up, and I randomly decide to change hands with his accompanying friend. After all of the bathroom breaks, my new dance partner and I head for the dance floor to dance. By this time, I had had too much vodka in my system, and was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. Although I don’t need alcohol to dance, my inhibitions completely fall short while intoxicated, and I danced like there was no tomorrow. After some minutes of this, my new friend offers to buy me a drink, and goes my third – grey goose shot.
By the end of the night, I had changed hands fairly frequently. I danced with my friend’s coworker who had accompanied his exgirlfriend to the club, and had brought along another of my friend’s, an exgirlfriend to my other guy friend. I had partnered with the coworker, my own friend that had accompanied me, my friend’s friend, the last guy I dated, and the best time I had was jumping up and down to Kelly Clarkson's "Since you’ve been gone".
During the course of the night, my new friend has asked for my number in order to take me out during the day, I had somehow avoided the question, but by the end of the night, I was intrigued enough to tell him to give me his number. I hand him my phone, and he punches in his number. He's probably the smartest guy I've met by far... I wake up this morning, and see a text from an unfamiliar number. I read it, and it's signed Jon. Memories from the previous night rushed back to me, and I fancy the idea that the guy has somehow gotten my number without my knowing. And sure enough, while punching in his number, he had dialed it, so he got my number as a result, and was thus able to send me a quick text later in the night. And it was subtle enough to not seem desperate and intrusive.
What seemed funny to me was my blacked out memory, or selective memory of the night's events. I had exchanged kisses with both of my friends who had exs at the club, and thoroughly enjoyed the earlier exchange with someone I'm only starting to get to know. I do feel a little ashamed of the fact that I had let my inhibitions go, but at the same time, I'm not regretful enough to completely cut off ties to my friends. I brush them off as though they didn't happen, and move on as any other male would in similar situations.
Equally puzzling would be my interaction with the guy I had previously dated. I was not the one to call it off, I had decided for some time after we started chatting that I needed some time to collect myself, and to get myself into the dating mindset. I was still very much into my independence, my time with friends, and all that jazz, but it seemed as though I was asking for too much me-time, and he couldn't hang. He wanted out. I had pretty much anticipated that if he were able to wait for me for some months, I would eventually come around, but then again, not too many people can sit around while the world passes them, waiting for someone who seems not at all interested. And although he had called it off, and said that he felt all of these things about our incompatibility, he only further contradicted what he later tells me. One minute, he doesn't like emailing me, and finds it difficult to talk to me on the phone, and the next minute, he really looked forward to my emails and found our conversations stimulating.
I knew that despite everything, there would be something there. And sure enough, the entire night, the friend who accompanied me to the club was not the only friend to consciously, and actively watch me. He appeared several times throughout the night, often pulling me away from my new friend for his own benefit. Sometime during the night he whispered that I looked really good that night, and although it was flattering, I had stopped being interested in pursuing a relationship with him, and the comment did not do anything for me. I did not fawn over him, probably as he would have wanted me to, or try to get at him like I had first done under the influence. I was polite.
The most shocking part of the night happened in the car...
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