My husband called me last week in the middle of the day and was like, "So, one of my co-workers invited us to this singles mixer next Thursday so see if your dad can watch the kids." "Ummm....I don't know if you remember this, but we're not single." I knew this friend was starting a social club and he organized the event and needed more people to come to fill it up, so I said okay.
Then, I find out a few days later that we are not only going to go to this mixer but we have to pretend that we are single people. I was intrigued by this and a little skeptical. "This better not be one of those parties where you put your car keys in a fish bowl. I saw The Ice Storm, and I know it won't end well." He laughed. "We are pretending to be single for a few hours. Not be swingers." I am a God fearing woman and I'm not into any weirdo things.
I am often teased by my family members about being a traditional. straight laced person. My sisters call me a prude. My brother in law told me a few weeks ago that I was "vanilla" and "square." You know, "but not in a bad way." Whatever. I told him he was square for using the word square.
So, I decided I would go to the singles mixer and embrace it. I am not vanilla, at all. If I was going to be a single person for the night, I was going to need a new persona. I was going to be Samantha, a 27 year old Nurse Practitioner. A hot 27 year old nurse practitioner. Of course, there was nothing in my closet that Samantha would wear. So I went shopping. I picked out 10 dresses that were absolutely ridiculous. Dresses that I would never, ever in a million years wear. I am a knee-length dress kind of girl. The first one had cut outs on the side and I looked like a cylinder of dough being popped open.
I tried on a few more and then I tried on a little black number that was very short in the back and mesh at the top. It was very skanktastic. It was REALLY tight at the top. I stood in front of the mirror and then realized that something was wrong. One of the girls was in the right place but the other one looked like it was hanging at belly button level. I tried to get my arm down this dress so I could rearrange myself and I almost got trapped in it. Then I felt sad that I am so stretched and saggy that I had to physically take my body and put the parts back to where they were supposed to be originally. That's a problem. I am officially at Humpty Dumpty status. Once everything was in place, I knew that was it. I found some skanky ankle boots to complete the skank ensemble. It was Samantha time.
My husband got home and we got ready to go. There was just one last thing. Our rings. I never, ever, ever take off my wedding ring. I need to have it cleaned. If you cultured my ring you would probably find E. Coli and small pox. My fingers are so fat that I used Crisco to get them off. My finger is deformed where my wedding ring is.
No, you can't tell I wear a ring on my left hand at all. Haha. After the rings were off and the skank outfit was on, we headed out the door.
On the way, we were laughing so hard. We were practicing pick up lines. Pathetic. My husband got a $50 gift card and he flashed it and was like, "Baby, you can have whatever you like....on this $50 gift card." Yeah, that's hawt. Keep talking. He really knows how to impress the chicks.
We finally got to the bar downtown and we walked in separately. There was a private loft for the event and you had to check in. "What is your name?" "Samantha." The lady scrawled Samantha on a name tag and I stuck it on my dress and hoped it stayed there and not find it's way near my belly button as the night wore on.
I was officially Samantha and I was fierce. I was having a little too much fun. We mingled and flirted. Which was funny because it was mostly people in their early to mid 20s. We were the oldest people there. I talked to this young man who was 26 and and was he was like, "Yeah, I can't drink every night like I used to. Now it's only 1 or 2 nights a week." I commiserated. "I know what you mean, I've really being trying to cut down on my partying too this year." This guy reminded me of one of my little brother's childhood friends. I wanted to find a nice girl for him. One of my husband's co-workers who was working the event was telling me about how his wife was about to have a baby and I was like, "I'm sorry. I hear that kids are horrible. I don't ever want any." Samantha hates kids. haha.
My husband and I worked the room and would exchange flirty glances with each other. At one point he sent me over a margarita. I introduced myself to him. I held out my hand and he shook it. "I'm Samantha. It's nice to meet you. Thanks for the drink." He smiled, "You're welcome. It's nice to meet you." That's when things got out of control. I licked the salt off the rim of my glass in a way that should be illegal. I could not help it. Samantha is a fast woman. We sat across from each other and made small talk like we were getting to know each other. Then, I began eating the appetizers that were in front of us in a very over-the-top and seductive manner. My husband was horrified and embarrassed.
He gave me a look that said, If you don't stop fellating that egg roll in public, I may murder you.
It's his fault. It was the margarita. I RARELY drink. So, one drink just does me in. The tequila hit me hard. I walked past him and whispered, "I think you are trying to get me drunk so I'll go home with you tonight." He laughed.
I started to blow our cover because I kept trying to kiss him. "We're supposed to be single." "Yes, but we are a success story of the night. We found each other at the mixer." By 9:20 pm, I was ready to go home. The tequila had worn off. People said, "Bye, Samantha. Nice to meet you," as we walked out which made me laugh in my head.
We left together and as we walked back, he remarked that he felt bad for all the single people that were going home alone that night. I laughed. "Ummm, they are 24. They don't care. They probably feel bad for you. You have to do the in-and-out with the same woman for the next 45 years, and you already have 13 years behind you. You go to Chuck E Cheese birthday parties at 10:30 am. The most excitement you've had in the past 6 months is going to a mixer and pretending to be single and picking up your wife whose boobs don't even stay in place anymore." We both could not contain ourselves. It was so funny. We are sad.
On the ride home he asked if I thought the kids would still be up when we got home. I told him yes, that he wasted his drink buying on the wrong woman. The kids are always awake. They are always around.
I was right. When we walked through the door, the kids were still up and my 8 year old was crying about a toe injury. We went upstairs and I taped it up, still in my stupid skank boots.
I took off Samatha's dress and slipped into my Jaclyn Smith Kmart pajamas and put my wedding ring back on. I was back to my "square" world. I missed it. It was how it should be. I crawled into bed with him and curled up and rested my head on his shoulder. Like I have so many times before. He is home to me. I am safe there and beautiful. I don't care if we are vanilla - we aren't boring and we have fun. At least we're vanilla together.
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