I should have had more alcohol…

What weekend makes you feel most alone while single? That would be the weekend on which the day that hearts, flowers, chocolates, couples, pda, candlelit dinners, and all the other cliché romantic crap happen upon.

In case y’all haven’t gotten the drift in my mini tirade, I’m talking about Valentine’s Day weekend. Yep, the day when reminders of your single-ness are everywhere.

How do you celebrate not depreciate your single-ness? The answer to that is simple, my beloved readers. Two words, girls night!

I’m meeting one of my favorite girlfriends and her friend downtown. The friend of my girlfriend, I’ve met before. She’s someone I can only take in small doses. So, an evening out is perfect.

I meet them at my favorite bar that specializes in beer and cider. I greet the girls. They already have drinks. I grab myself a bar-stool. Then start to chat with my girlfriend and compliment her on her outfit. We spent most of the time talking about my last date (please refer to seeking foreplay). After hearing about the date, she tells me she needs a hug and a drink. She doesn’t know how I get myself into these situations. She calls over the bartender and gets herself a drink. FOMG (friend of my girlfriend, it’s too much to write that each time, so she’s FOMG for the rest of the post) comes up, interrupts, says she’s ready to go, and she’s bored. She needs attention. She’s not getting it at my favorite beer and cider establishment.

We close out and make our way to the next location. It’s a popular sports bar that specializes in wings. The bar is completely packed. FOMG, spots a friend and runs off. I spot an empty chair. My feet need a break, my heels are killing me. The chair is located next to an older gentleman. He offers to scoots over for my girlfriend and I. I thank him, it was sweet of him. My girlfriend gets herself a hot tottie and the older gentleman gets us wings and a drink for me. The night is perking up.

We are chatting with the older gentleman. FOMG, comes up. The gentleman offers her his chair. She gives him a rude look and ignores him. I inform her that this nice gentleman has gotten us food and a drink. We’d like to finish. I also don’t want to be rude to the older gentleman. It was very considerate of him to move and order us something. She then informs me that she doesn’t care. She’s bored and she’s ready to go.

The rest of the gentleman’s party shows up. We are all introducing each other. One guy is giving everyone a half hug and hello. It’s a very common greeting here in the south. We are lovers not fighters. He gets to FOMG. She tells him NOT to touch her and FUCK OFF.

Okay….

So, it’s time to go. She was quite LOUD and RUDE. I don’t want to stick around. I apologize to the older gentleman and his party. We start making our way towards the door. My girlfriend is staying behind to smooth things over with the people we just met and the bartender. FOMG is following me out. She stops at the end of the bar. She says she wants a shot. OH SHIT.

She pushes her way back thru. Then when she gets to the bar pushes herself in between a couple at the bar. I mean really? Who pushes them self in between a couple? And on Valentine’s day weekend, no less.

FOMG, proceeds to yell at the bartender. She knows him by name. She’s screaming his name, over and over at the top of her lungs. He hears her. But is currently serving two women at the other end of the bar. What does she expect? The man only has two hands. He’s not an octopus! He doesn’t have eight arms! He’s just got the two arms and they are currently occupied.

She doesn’t get his attention enough to her liking. She decides to pick up a napkin, ball it up, and toss it at him. But due her current inebriated state her napkin ball missed her target. No, swoosh or nothing but net. Instead the napkin ball ends up in the beer that the bartender just set down in front of the women he is serving. FUCK! Where’s a referee to yell FOUL when you need one?

It seems like the world has stopped and everyone is looking at her. Her as in the FOMG. The bartender tells her that she owes his patron a new drink. FOMG tells him fuck no, she doesn’t owe her anything and that she wants her shot. At this point I realize she is teetering on the edge of getting kicked out and/or banned from the bar. I step up, pull out my card, and tell the bartender that I’ll buy a new beer for the woman with the now beer with a saturated napkin in it. The bartender tells me no, it’s not my fault. FOMG owes the woman a new beer, not me.

FOMG is still flipping a shit. I’m pulling her out of the bar. The women that FOMG’s napkin ball swooshed her beer into is walking around the bar. FOMG purposely bumped into her and then cursed at her. I apologized again. They told me no need to apologize, it wasn’t my fault and to have a good night.

We are off to the next location. I tell my girlfriend I hope we don’t get kicked out of any bars tonight. She tells me she hopes we don’t either. But unfortunately it’s happened to her and FOMG before. At this point I’m wishing I had stayed home. I could have been in my bathtub, with candles and a bottle of red for myself. Drowning my single sorrows appropriately, in private with Teddy. But NO. I’m freezing my ass off with my girlfriend and the FOMG instead.

Oh, and the night has only just begun…

The bar we are at now is located on a rooftop with sleek white modern decor. FOMG is scouting the bar searching for her next victim. I grab two bar stools. It’s packed. There’s a variety of people. Everyone from couples, to groups of people, singles, etc. My girlfriend finds me and takes the seat next to me.

My girlfriend automatically gets a drink. She knows the bartenders very well at this establishment. They know what she likes. I’m people watching. My eyes find FOMG in my surveying. She’s a hot mess. The men who she’s attempting to flirt with look like they just want her gone. She comes over to us and says she wants shots. She orders a round of shots for us. She starts sipping her shot.

The whole point of a shot is to shoot it not sip it. Maybe all of the alcohol she has consumed has caused her mind to forget the basics.

She then is distracted by a guy close to us wearing a hat. She decides that his hat is HER hat. FOMG rips it off his head, and puts it on hers. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK. Now she’s stealing! I’m not equipped for this. People know me at this bar. My girlfriend too. This isn’t exactly making us look good. The guy who’s hat she stole wants his hat back, naturally. But FOMG doesn’t want to give it up. Because she is convinced it’s hers. A pulling match ensues. He eventually wins thankfully.

She is now bored and wants to go to another bar. My girlfriend informs her it’s too early to go to the next bar. We make her wait. She entertains herself by dancing the bartenders seem to be used to it. I’m NOT. I thought that we were all adults here. You have to be twenty one to get into a bar. Huh, obviously I was mistaken. Apparently they let two year olds into bars now.

We leave, and meet a stunning couple and their friend in the elevator. She’s in a gorgeous gown and killer heels and has a fabulous Australian accent. We hit it off. They convince us to go with them to a small members only speak easy. The only catch is to get there we have go down the stairs of death. They are extremely steep, narrow, and dangerous to women in heels. It’s like the StairMaster times four at the gym.

The speak easy had a burlesque show this particular weekend. We are inside now. It’s jam packed. The Aussie and I are instant besties. We exchange numbers, drinking, chatting, the night is finally perking up. I’m looking around because if everything is going so well I’m sure shit is about to hit the fan. It’s only a matter of time.

Aussie and I are in the bathroom. We women bond quickly sometimes and if you go into a bathroom with another woman you’ve got no secrets from her at that point. After that we chit chat, dance, selfies, normal girl stuff.

She GOT me to dance. Let me tell you my beloved readers that is a difficult feat. I DON’T dance. Have you ever heard the Gloria Estefan song, “The rhythm is going to get you”? It’s an oldie but goodie. Let’s just say the rhythm never gets to me.

Then I overhear FOMG is pitching a fit because she is ready to leave. She’s BORED, again. Because no one is paying attention to her. The friend of the couple buys her a drink. But that doesn’t entertain her for long enough. I tell her I’m staying. I make a swift exit to chat with the Aussie outside while she’s smoking a cigarette. My girlfriend and the FOMG say that they are heading to the next spot. My girlfriend mouths over FOMG’s head, food. I nod okay and then they leave.

My night proceeds to be blissful and so much fun.  Before I realize it, it’s 3 am. Shit. Where did the time go? I can tell you where it went to. I was drinking, dancing, chatting and having a good time with people whom I didn’t have to constantly watch and wonder if I was going to have to bail their ass out of jail in the wee hours of the morning. I felt for my girlfriend, and wished she was having fun with me. But I understood, she had to take care of her friend.

I left the speak easy, and met another friend at a local pub for a quick drink. I’m finishing up at the pub. My girlfriend calls me and says that she and FOMG are on the way to grab food. She offers to swing by and pick me up, and says she’ll be by shortly.

When she walks into the bar I notice FOMG is behind her. Oh my, here we go again. I close out, and we leave. I’m talking to my girlfriend on the sidewalk she points to her car. Then we both realize we’ve been chatting and no one has interrupted us. OH FUCK! Where’s FOMG? How could we have lost her? We were only talking for a minute or two. We turn and look down the street in the opposite direction of the car. FOMG is running down the street in her heels towards Five Guys.

She’s yelling, I WANT FRIES!

Tip: If you find your very own Aussie, yell finders keepers.
©southerngabunny