Monday, September 9, 2013

Weekend Rituals: Sept. 2013 #14 Rated O for "Over It"

Girl: I can do anything, you know? 

Girl 2: Oh, girl we know you can.

Girl: You wanna walk and smoke?  I'll do it.

Girl 2: Yes.

Girl: You wanna walk, smoke and drink?  Gimme a bottle.

Girl 2: Ok.

Girl: You wanna talk about it?  I'll be taking puffs and sips and steps while we work it through.

Girl 2: Yes ma'am.

I cannot stand my best friend Rachel.

I got stuck taking her home after a big night out at Nick's Uptown, because someone told us that place was closing (I thought it had been closed for years), and we just HAD TO GO before it did.

So this big idea - "Hey, let's have a ladies' night - go eat somewhere nice, head to Nick's until 4, and then go eat again!" (and this late night food place is always shitty) and I'm thinking, 'I'm busy/I'm so busy/I can't do this/This is going to be terrible/Someone tell me Rachel is not coming,' but instead I say, "Sure thing!  Love to.  What time, and where are we eating?"

See...Rachel is that friend no one wants to invite, but you kind of have to, because otherwise she'll text during the meal, and show up anyway.  You know, because she's friends with you on Facebook and Four Square and has that app where you know where all your friends are, and she uses the excuse, "I just want to add you in case anything happens to you - you'll have a GPS and we can find your kidnapper - just like in CSI!" but really you know it's because she wants to know exactly where you are at all times, and if you're lying to her when you say you're not feeling well and staying home.  Because she will call you out on that shit: "Oh, that's weird, Cate.  Because it looks like you're at Big Star." and then you have to make up a quick, "Weird - the calibration must be off.  I'm actually at the Walgreens down the street buying something for my diarrhea - how embarrassing that cute boy with the ear plugs is here and I can't possibly ask him!"  And then you have to chase down your server, pay your tab, and then go OVER to the Walgreens, make sure cute boy is actually there, and then high tail it home in a cab because you can't get caught.  The wrath of Rachel is the worst wrath to come.

Rachel is also the girl that always gets piss-yourself drunk, 'but I can't get home on my own', that no one wants to deal with.  I am just a sucker for safety, though, and always end up with Rachel.

To be honest, I don't like any of my friends.

I know beforehand this night will consist of me getting half-ready, then deciding I have to get super dolled up because everyone else is going to spend all night making comments on my outfit, hair, nails, shoes, bag, etc. if I don't, commenting continually about how THESE are probably the reasons I'm single.  No.  I'm single because I can't find anyone I like enough to date.  Not like these bitches, who are NOT single, but will sit through an entire meal complaining about the person they're dating/living with/married to.  Good on you, girls.

So I imagine I will get really ready, then be told I was trying too hard.  That I look "desperate" and "on the prowl", so I curled my hair, popped on some simple non-hanging earrings, and wore flats instead of heels (that is the costume I call "keep the bitches off my back").

I know before even leaving the house I will spend more than anyone at the table, regardless of me not being a drinker, which no one seems to notice and I am too passive to say anything about.  I know that we will have to cab everywhere because everyone else is allowed to wear heels.  I know most importantly that I will be the last to leave, because I am terrified to let any of these girls be responsible for themselves.

Now that I think about it, I am the piece of shit.  Maybe I don't hate my friends.  Maybe I hate myself.

No, I hate my friends.  But maybe I hate myself, too.

Why can't I say no?!  Why can't I just kindly decline?  And when they respond with, "Cate - you know you can't meet men sitting all sad inside your apartment with your cat who is named after some weirdo superhero what is wrong with you how old are you?" why can't I have the balls to say, "Yeah.  I know.  But I'll have more fun than dragging your sloppy ass down the street, stopping only to puke in sectioned landscaping, and getting turned down repeatedly cab after cab.  Araña and I will be just fine with our delivery, not DiGiorno, and Netflix Instant Queue."

I mean...after saying no so many times, people stop asking you to hang out, right?  That's how it works?

These are the thoughts running through my head as I tie Rachel's puke-soaked hair back while she's hunched over a trashcan this time, thank god.  And here she is telling me, through slurred words, that she can walk, smoke, drink and talk at the same time?  She can barely stand up.

Will the rest of the girls find their way home?  Will Rachel learn her lesson or do this same thing yet again?  Will Cate finally get the courage to drop everyone in her life and start anew?  Find out next weekend, same time, same god-forsaken place (because Nick's will never close).

The moral?  Just stay home.  Find new friends.  Say no.  And watch Fringe.  That show is so, so good.

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