“Okay…cheers to us…” Jen started, holding up her shot glass. “Two strong, independent women, and…eccentric Lola who never seems to stop surprising us.”
My shot glass paused on the way to my mouth. “Wait…what?”
“Cheers!”
Jen and Abby downed their shots, and I just sat there holding mine in my hand.
“Eccentric Lola who never seems to stop surprising us?”
Jen’s face turned sour for a brief moment, and then she finally responded once the shot’s aftertaste had left her mouth. “It was a compliment.”
I pointed my shot glass toward her. “It didn’t sound like a compliment. You called you and Abby strong, independent women. I’m strong. I’m independent.”
“No offense, sweetie, but you’re basically a teenager inside a beautiful grown woman’s body,” Jen explained, and I didn’t quite like that explanation. “You’re quirky. And peculiar. And those aren’t bad things. Those are good things. You never fucking take life for granted. You live in the moment, and I admire that about you.”
“I do, too,” Abby chimed in. “And…you give some kick-ass dating and relationship advice. Seriously, I want to be you when I grow up.”
“Well, according to Jen, you don’t even have to grow up to achieve that. I’m still an adolescent,” I muttered petulantly.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
I flipped her off.
Jen laughed. “Ah, don’t be mad, Lola.”
“I am mad. You called me a teenager.”
“Last week, I saw you riding around on roller skates, sweetie. I mean…”
She had a point.
“Okay, so maybe I’m a little bit quirky.”
“And eccentric,” Jen added with a knowing smirk and I glared. “But you’re also really fucking fun, and you’re my favorite friend.”
“Hey, now!” Abby exclaimed.
“What?” Jen shrugged and took a sip from her wine. “She’s way more fun than you.”
Abby just laughed. “Yeah…I’m not even going to try to disagree with that.”
Jen took out a tube of lipstick from her purse and applied a fresh coat. “Okay, now that the love fest is over, let’s head upstairs and shake our asses.”
“You guys go ahead. I’m going to run to the ladies’ room. I’ll meet you up there in a few,” I lied. I didn’t want to be the Debbie Downer of the night. And even though my injured ass could’ve probably handled a few go-rounds on the dance floor, I just wasn’t feeling it.
Luckily, Abby and Jen didn’t think twice about my excuse and headed toward the stairs to get their groove on—and most likely get felt up a few times. Vertigo Lounge had a reputation for being a modern-day version of Dirty Dancing. Well, without the watermelons—and the whole “nobody puts Baby in the corner.”
Although, I wouldn’t have put that clichéd line past some of the guys plotting their next pickup lines behind their bottles of five-dollar beer. The art of conversation in the dating world was a handful of awful opening lines away from dying.
Hmmm… Now, that’s a good topic for a column, I thought to myself and pulled my phone out of my purse to make a few notes.
Sex Says: Leave the pickup lines at home, guys. If your first question revolves around your pants or seeing yourself in her pants, just stop. Go home. Try it again tomorrow. After you’ve, like, napped, rehydrated, had a banana.
Once I saved enough words to provide the right amount of inspiration tomorrow morning when I settled into a writing session, I took a sip from my glass of wine and stretched my legs out, resting my feet on the wooden bar underneath the table. My tailbone appreciated the relaxed position.
Obviously, I had zero plans to meet my friends upstairs.
My butt would stay planted to this barstool for the rest of the night.
The reasons I’d agreed to a girls’ night at Vertigo Lounge had absolutely nothing to do with dancing or drinks and had everything to do with people watching—there was always a lot of grinding and interesting dance moves—and the hot dog cart strategically placed outside the club.
Frank’s Weiner Cart was a goddamn beacon of goodness, and he only served his wieners on Friday and Saturday nights. As I stared into my wine and ran my index finger along the rim of the glass, I let my stomach lead my thoughts.
Mmmmm… I will definitely get the Chicago dog tonight… Wait… Maybe I should get the New York dog…
Unfortunately, I didn’t even get a chance to decide tonight’s winning wiener because the very worst kind stepped right into my line of sight.