A Back-fire or backfire in a car causes an objectionable popping noise, together with possible loss of power and forward motion. Most of the time when I hear one I feel like I need to duck and cover because I think it’s a gun going off.
Last night that happened to me. And I feel sick about it today.
My friend who I went to Ireland with came into town for a visit because her dad is not doing well. She is newly single and unattached. But she’s been chatting with a friend on Facebook who is only a friend to her but they wanted to meet up and she invited me to come along for moral support. She didn’t see anything happening more than friendship and thought it would be fun to get out. First the plan was to go to the movies, then coffee, and then it all fell apart as far as I’m concerned because he had the idea to take us to a couple of places to hear some music. I’m still thinking coffee houses at this point. But Martin is always asking me where is a good place to go to hear live music and since I have “zero” experience “going out on the town” I thought, well at least maybe I’ll scope out some places I can take him when he comes out next time.
I did realize though that I wouldn’t be back in time to talk to him when I said I would so I emailed him to give him the heads up. And I emailed him 14 times after that letting him know what I was doing.
I was being a good friend and a good girlfriend or so I thought.
The night was a disaster for me. For one, I am not single and had no interest dancing at a club which is what we ended up doing. I spent most of the night holding purses while they danced. I felt like a Yenta who was chaperoning her pick for a match. I tried to get into the night just to have fun but I was miserable. All I wanted to do was be at home talking to Martin. I knew he would be worried that I was out and I hated that feeling. But my friend kept saying, “I’m so glad you are here this would be a really weird if I was just along with him.” She really did look like she was having a good time and it was nice to see her smile.
At one point I was looking out into the crowd and all I could see were these lost, sad people. There were some couples who were dancing really close and sexy-like but they didn’t appear that into each other. It was like they were following a script and were bad actors. There was a couple of knock-out blondes in short black dresses (which is THE uniform for women who go to clubs I’m finding out). They were sitting on a bench that was “special” like they paid for the spot to be up on the dance floor to be gawked at by everyone. It appeared they were there with a guy but seriously all three of them looked completely bored. Dressed up, with somewhere to go but they probably would have had more fun in jammies with some popcorn and a movie at home. There were some random guys sitting at tables alone just kind of surveying the meat and groups of women who were old like me dancing together. Half of them had clothes on that were not age appropriate at all and the other looked like me. Too old to be there, and alone.
As the night wore on the music got more and more “boom, boom” I call it. Songs I barely recognized mixed with songs I did not know at all. The outfit I was wearing is what I wore all day long first to a baby shower. My jeans were all stretched out and looked two sizes too big for me. My yellow top was my “fat shirt” cause I planned to eat loads at said baby shower and did. I was not expecting to “go out”. I felt frumpy.
The entire night I didn’t get even so much as a GLANCE my way. Which honestly I wasn’t looking for so maybe they came and I missed them, but my friend not only had this guy we came with after her but a few others as well. I felt like the short, fat, old, prudish (I was drinking water) friend. Ugh. I kept telling myself I’m doing her a favor and she is having fu,n and I can come back and bring Martin someday. But the later it got the more desperate I got to leave.
The more fun they had the more miserable I was. I emailed Martin every chance I got and let him know I was on my way home. I had missed out on dinner so I stopped at I-N-Out at 12:30 AM cause that is about the only other place open that time of night. Lucky me I pulled into the drive-thru just after a Hummer Limo dumped about 30 prom goers into the restaurant so it took forever to get my food. As I sat there stuck, waiting for what seemed an eternity it became increasingly apparent that Martin was not pleased and I got this sinking feeling that he was upset at me. I had been so excited to talk to him and now I felt kind of sick inside. It was now almost 1 AM, I hadn’t eaten, my feet hurt, I hadn’t been home all day and now I had to explain myself to my boyfriend who was 6,000 miles away that I was a good girl and that he had no reason to me worried.
I got home and called him before taking a bite of my cheeseburger and sure enough he was not happy. He was worried and I guess that is it when it gets boiled down. But after I answered all his questions and after he tells me about 5 times that he wasn’t mad he was just worried then I got mad. I was miserable the entire night and instead of feeling good about coming home to the only person I really wanted to be with all night, I felt worse. BACKFIRE.
I guess this is what happens when someone is 6,000 miles away and wishes he could be the one out with you instead of some guy I don’t even know from Facebook who sounds like a player. I get it. I guess. It just didn’t feel good. I still feel like crying for some reason.
I’m not the kind of girl who “goes clubbing”. I’m not the kind of girl who gets their boyfriends jealous cause they are out on the town. I’m the kind of girl who watches Netflix movies and reads Wuthering Heights. Ugh. I’ve only been to 3 clubs in my whole life and while I LOVE DANCING….I do not like the club scene at all. It’s not me.
Oh well. I’ll get over this feeling soon. I really hate disappointing people and I guess I felt stuck like the fuel in the pipe going the wrong direction and then POW. I’m not used to having anyone being even remotely jealous and I guess I should be grateful that someone cares enough to be worried about me. It just didn’t feel good. At all.
My night in one word….crummy.