For example:
30th birthday parties, weddings, pub crawls, gallery openings, fitness centers. Possible.
1st birthday parties, bridal showers, afternoon tea, elementary school plays, nail salons. Not possible.
And these categories matter. They dictate clothing choices, make-up choices, and whether or not note cards of clever remarks and charming anecdotes needs to be prepared.
The problem comes in when you have had as long of a dry spell as I have. Suddenly more and more things fall into the possible category. Supermarket (Possible!). Laundromat (Possible!). Public bus (Definitely possible!). Recently I had second thoughts about wearing my sweats to take out the garbage (hey, you have no idea who you can pass by on the way to the dumpster...).
Which brings me to tonight, when I found myself shimmying into a short black dress and sliding on knee-high boots for a charity event at a suburban women's club.You see, I'm a glass-is-half-full type of girl, and I thought some mother would drag her son, some sister her brother, some businesswoman her colleague. And, more importantly, the type of guy who would allow himself to be dragged to such an event would be the sensitive yet secure type that would be perfect for me. Right?
Wrong. Fast forward three hours. I'm sitting in what feels like an old high school gym-cum-auditorium as a gaggle of 50-somethings convulse on the dance floor and sing along to a greying cover band's version of _Brown-Eyed Girl_.
I scan the room before reaching for my third dessert of the night.
Yup. Not possible.
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