I’m the kinda girl that hangs with the guys
Like a fly on the wall with my secret eyes
Takin it in, try to be feminine
With my makeup bag watchin all the sin
Misfit, I sit Lit up, wicked
Everybody else surrounded by the girls
With the tank tops and the flirty words
I’m just sippin on chamomile
Watching boys and girls and their sex appeal
With a stranger in the face who says he knows my mom
And went to my high school
No Doubt, Hey Baby
I had a great weekend.
OK, I know its not over yet, but I expect things to be pretty quiet today, so I can say that, can’t I?
Friday night we went out to check out a new band. As is our tendency, we started with dinner; decided to check out a new Mexican food place; and a couple margaritas. I was not impressed. In a town with a large Hispanic population, you would expect a new Mexican Restaurant to be good, wouldn’t you? I mean, we walked in and saw a number of Latin faces around the dining room and thought we were in for a treat. But it was not to be.
But that doesn’t really matter. We got into a rather in depth conversation over dinner: sexual, emotional, fantasy type stuff. I’m not going to tell you the details, this time: it was that personal, but I will say that by the time we left the restaurant and got to the club, we were feeling pretty frisky, pretty sensual and all around in a good place.
The club in question has one, solitary raised booth directly opposite the stage, and when we arrived it was still available. This made me happy and we headed straight over to claim it. Our waitress, Rachel I believe it was, appeared almost instantly. She was cute, kinda sexy (although my honey thought there was something a little off about her mouth, but I never noticed), with a smart, kind of sassy repartee. After taking our order, I watched her head to the bar – and let me tell you, she had a nice way of moving as well. (Lately, I have noticed with alarming frequency, how many girls really don’t have any wiggle in their walk. It surprises and confounds me. How does a woman walk without a wiggle? Rachel did not have this problem.)
So we got our drinks and talked for while. With the booth, we were able to snuggle up rather nicely, and I found myself getting warm, finally, after coming in from the cold, so it was time to remove my jacket. I got up on my knees on the booth seat and let my leather jacket slide from my shoulders. Beneath, I was wearing a rather snug tank top – and I, well, let’s just say that I have never had a tank top that I couldn’t fill, if you know what I mean. As I did this, I noticed several guys at the bar turn and watch. As I sat down, my honey informed me that it was not just the guys: our waitress had been watching rather closely as well. Really? hmmm.
Over the next hour or two we caught her watching and/or making eye contact with one or the other of us. It was fun and added another level of interest to our already heightened moods. We had a couple drinks, we talked, we snuggled – and then the band hit the stage. I don’t know if I have made this clear, before, but I dance. When the music starts, I have to get up and move. So I did.
In the meantime, my honey starts ordering water for me: both because I have to drive home and because dancing makes me thirsty! So I tend to start hard and then stop drinking altogether once the music starts. It works for me.
At set break, I went back to the table and we got to talking again. Turns out my honey had some interesting interactions with Rachel while I was gone. Even though she saw me out on the dance floor – she must have as I moved aside for her to pass, repeatedly, she decided to play a different tact with my boy. Apparently, she came by a couple different times expressing concern about me – after all, I was absent from the table and my order had changed to plain water – so she repeatedly asked if I was OK, if she should go check on me in the bathroom, if he was OK, out there all alone… We had debated, a little, whether her attention towards me was interest or competition: now we knew it was competition. Honey was certain she was trying to play the girl can’t hold her liquor, you poor dear card. I found it all rather amusing.
Of course, the other way could have led to a far more interesting evening, in all likelihood it would not have: and I found her cute enough that I took her competitiveness as a fabulous compliment. Not to mention that I had a wonderful time watching her work the bar: what can I say, the girl had sass! It was also a nice buildup to our activities on Saturday evening: but that will be a story for another day.
(Originally Posted November 5, 2006)