Last night, I had made plans to meet some girlfriends at a club for an After Work party. Its fun to do with girlfriends because generally you pay an entrance charge and then there is open bar (or atleast you can manage to sort out with a barman or manager to have free drinks brought to your table all night). Girls (atleast these girls) are not used to going out and having to spend any money, but when there is no man around to pick up the the bill at the end of the night, things tend to go wrong. No one orders anything and then everyone leaves early. Or worse, I suppose, they spend their time flirting and having drinks with guys that they meet. Anyway you cut it, not a fun girls night. We don't do it every Thursday, but regularly, and I like it. I liked it better when Ella was at garderie on Friday mornings because then I could just sleep off my hangover and take a leisurely shower before having to take up mommy duties again, but I can deal with her for two or three hours if I know that I have all the afternoon for napping.
Last night, B didn't get home on time since he was busy at the office. In fact, he was about an hour late and I knew that I would miss the official open bar. It ended up working out since he warned me and I used the extra time to wash my hair. It had been raining on and off all day- the "on" was mainly when I tried to dash outside for a few minutes without an umbrella so my hair was a frizzy, knotted mess. But then that's why they invented headbands, right? And I figure, if you are dressed well and your make-up is perfect you can just pretend to be very avant-garde and people think your hair is supposed to look like that. Still, I thought it fine to have a bit more time in the bathroom before going out. Ella is happy to spend all night playing in the tub so it was with a smiling face (and perfectly blowed-out hair) that I kissed B good-bye as I left the house.
Of course, I was not counting on spending my night in a sauna, otherwise I would have left my hair alone. The way Mimi described the club, there was an upstairs with a bar area, and the club area was downstairs, so I didn't wear particularly light clothing. My mistake. Naked is best when going to a new club, a club which has been untested for air-conditioning and ventilation. My god, it was just steaming by the time I walked in, it was like Florida in June- my hair went from smooth waves to the White Girls Afro in about 20 minutes.
But thats just the downside of Paris nightlife. You either put up with it or stay home. The thing that really makes me start to think I am too old for all this stuff is the fact that I cannot deal with getting hit on by little boys. Technically, I wouldn't call this party an After Work unless you count paper routes and babysitting as official jobs. One boy very kindly told me that I looked REALLY good for my age, he could hardly believe that I wasn't 25 (his first guess) since I didn't have wrinkles on my face or anything. Well, I suppose it really was my fault for having left my walker and hearing aid at home.
And I forgot how guys in their early 20's are so into the free love. They just put themselves out there and don't care how many times they get knocked back- if there is an outside chance of having sex, their pride is a small price to pay. "Hi! What's your name? I think you're really pretty. Can I kiss you?" That hardly even counts as a pick-up line. Although, I appreciate brevity. Its true, gentlemen, why waste all night talking talking talking to someone when really you could care less?
Ultimately, I think the real problem was that I arrived so late that everyone in the entire building was drunk and I wasn't and that is a terrible situation to find yourself in. I stubbornly stuck it out til midnight and then metro'ed it home, due to typical parisian taxi shortages. That, my friends, is a night in the City of Lights. Don't say that you haven't been warned.