Wedding Season

Fuck bachelorette parties.
Fuck bridal showers.
Fuck wedding dresses.
Fuck bridesmaid dresses.
Fuck flowers.
Fuck weddings.
Fuck committment.
Fuck forever.
Fuck.
Fu.ck.
F.u.c.k.
F.U.C.K.

I am not a happy camper right now. As much as I enjoyed myself at my friend's wedding last week, I did NOT enjoy myself at another friend's bachelorette party on Saturday.

It started out okay. We surprised our friend with pole dancing lessons. Sounds a bit dirty but it's actually an amazing work out. At least that's what they tell me. I didn't actually participate. I took pictures. I'm far too awkward to ever do anything sexy like that. Afterwards, we took her to dinner. And then it was off to the dance club. That's where my evening crashed and burned. I was trying my very best to have fun at the club. But I failed miserably and I ended up leaving around midnight.

I've always had a love/hate relationship with dance clubs. I love dancing. I hate the whole feeling of being ogled and evaluated like a slab of meat. In the 5 years before I was married, I would go to the clubs a lot. And by the evening's end, I was strongly on the hate side of love/hate. This was mostly due to the fact that whenever I would go out with my gorgeous, skinny, single girlfriends, all the gorgeous, hunky, single guys would flock to them. Never to me. Ever. And that really sucked.

I know I'm not conventionally pretty. I know it takes time for people to really see me, and the beauty that is there. I don't think I'm unattractive, but I'm not the same kind of attractive that most of my friends are. And I certainly know I'm not skinny (now more so than ever). I'm not obese or even chubby, I'm curvy and voluptuous. Unfortuntately, most of the voluptuousness ended up in my tits, stomach and ass. So I never wear revealing clothing. Even when I was 30 pounds lighter, I never wore crop tops. I think it's gross. But I digress. Anyway along with all of that, I'm really dense when it comes to putting myself out there and showing interest in men. So all of those factors added up to men never hitting on me at clubs. I almost always ended up standing by myself, feeling like a dork, holding my girlfriends' purses while they were off dancing and having a fabulous time with a flock of men.

Simon and I met in a karaoke bar where there isn't any expectation to pick up, or be picked up. Where everyone wears jeans and a t-shirt, and the women have their hair in pony tails and the guys are wearing baseball caps. When he saw me for the first time, he saw the regular me. Not the pimped out me with the hair, make up, and great (but not revealing) outfit. He saw just me.

After getting together with Simon, all of that feeling dorky and ugly simply evaporated. Which of course one would expect to happen. Finding your soul mate really gives your ego a boost. So much so that going to clubs became a thing I loved again. There was no more pressure on me to impress men, be hit on/picked up, which of course leads to marriage and children. I could just go and enjoy holding my friends' purses.

With that said, right now I have absolutely ZERO desire to date EVER AGAIN. So you'd think that going to a club wouldn't bother me right? Because I would just be there to dance, and nothing else. I wouldn't want any guy to hit on me, because then I'd have to turn him down. So the usual pressure I would feel of having to impress anyone simply wouldn't exist.

Well you're wrong. It's completely twisted to feel this way, but when we were at the club on Saturday, I had the pressure of Jupiter coming down on me to have just one guy hit on me. Even though it was the LAST thing in the world I wanted, at the same time it was ALL I wanted.

Did it happen? Of course not. Were my friends getting hit on? Of course they were. Was I watching everyone's purse? You betchya!

Now not only am I the dorky, awkward, purse-holding freak again, I'm the DIVORCED dorky, awkward, purse-holding, never-hit-on, never-looked-at, LOSER - AGAIN.

I have officially sworn off dance clubs. However I have to make an exception this week as it's my Divorce Twin's 30th birthday. She of course has chosen to go dancing to celebrate this milestone. I gotta suck it up for her. She definitely owes me one.