Monday, March 26, 2007

Who I Am

Listening to the radio as I drove to Pentagon City last week, the WMZQ DJ remarked, "That was Jessica Andrews with 'Who I Am' a number one hit back in 2002. That was Jessica's only number one hit, but, boy, what a hit it was!"

One hit Oneders. Only thing left for Jessica is to dig her key into the side of that DJ's pretty little suped up 4-wheel drive.

Then again, my friend in college was the little brother to LFO's Rich Nice. Mike dropped out of college as a microbiology major right before his senior year to move down to Orlando and work with Lou Pearlman. Even though LFO didn't make many top countdown lists after 'Summer Girls,' Mike ended up getting a gig producing Making the Band and then managing O-Town.

But anyways.

This weekend was a lesson for me. Even though I've learned to say, "look this is who I am," it takes me entirely too long to finally realize when I'm being made uncomfortable for being myself. I've been me for 27 years. I need to learn to chant Jessica Andrews in the shower or something.

If I live to be a hundred, and never see the seven wonders, that'll be alright. If I don't make it to the big leagues, if I never win a grammy, I'm gonna be just fine, cause I know exactly who I am.

I met Rob at Front Page for cheap happy hour ($5.50 for his beer and my wine) Friday night. After a couple drinks, we went to grab food at Luna Grill. He left to go meet friends in Adams Morgan, and I headed home to rest and relax.

A rainy Saturday morning made the rest of my morning and afternoon pretty mellow. At 8pm, I met Suave and company at Zengo for some cocktails before we headed to JK's Chinese New Year and housewarming party. Three glasses of Saki sangria and I was feeling much more peppy than my calling as a member of the Year of the Goat.

The Jackass (and yes, the question mark who became a period and then pretended to want to be a friend officially gets that name now) was at JK's party to meet up with us. He'd brought his sleazy, bisexual (not stereotyping, the Jackass told me this info), Spanish friend along. I'd thought the Jackass was a nice guy but boring, then I'd found out he liked to go out, so then I figured he'd make a good friend. We'd been trying to arrange plans for a while, and I was committed to possibly hooking him up with Suave. "He's into his family and wants to get married. Very settled and mature. He likes to work out everyday." Yeah, I was wrong. Very very wrong.

I left Suave and the Jackass to talk. The Jackass says to her, "Yeah, Sam thought I was boring, but I was just putting on a front of what I thought she wanted. I'm not like that at all."

Suave did not like that one bit.

So, I was drunk. The Jackass and the Sleaze were heading to Blue Gin. They knew someone who worked there so they promised no lines. I felt badly that they'd come into DC and gotten to JK's party an hour before all of us headed over from Zengo, so I decided to go with them for a drink and then meet up with the lost boys, Suave, and company at their Dupont bar of choice.

In the cab, the Sleaze started to interrogate me. "How do you know the Jackass?" "Um, we went out a couple times, but he thought I acted like a senior citizen, and I thought he was boring." "Are you single now?" "Um, yeah, technically. I'm talking to someone though." "What's he like?" "Just a guy." "What was the last guy you dated like?" "Um, I don't know, there were a string of them. One was a 6 foot 7 player, the next was an arrogant Producer, then I dated a 23-year-old followed by talking to a 40-year-old. I was having fun. This guy's much different, I guess."

The Sleaze starts speaking in Spanish as he looks out the window. The Jackass answers back one word over and over again. "I'm getting out now," I declare. The Jackass, "why?" I look at the Sleaze, "you may be able to pull whatever shit your pulling with the normal girls you pick up at the dirty clubs you must frequent, but not only will I not partake in sitting next to someone with zero class and respect, I'll most likely slap you across the face for it." We stop at a red light a block from Blue Gin. I walk to the curb. The Jackass follows, "Sam, he wasn't saying anything about you, and even if he was, I don't speak Spanish, so I have no clue what he was saying. Let's just go get a drink. Okay? Can I buy you a drink?"

Urg. Fine, I went in.

The Jackass and I get drinks and he pulls me onto the dance floor. "Come on, let's dance." "No, I'm wearing a jacket right now and know one else is dancing. Let's go upstairs." Upstairs, he takes my drink and puts it on a table. My full drink with a real little raspberry in it, which is the only reason why I'll pay $8 for that drink at Blue Gin. "Come on. Dance with me. You said you were fun. Let's have fun. You're so uptight. Let go." "I don't want to dance right now. You sound like a rapist." He pulled me to him. "Okay, I'm leaving."

I walked out having never even gotten to eat my raspberry. Damn Jackass.

Suave called to say she and everyone were at Lucky Bar. In the cab, I drunkenly felt guilty for leaving the Jackass there. I was thinking, "okay, I'm going to try not to be abrupt and just be friends with this guy." I text, "meeting all at Lucky Bar. Ya'll can come if you feel like it. Have a fun night." As I'm waiting on Suave to come save me from the line (huh?), the Jackass joins us. Outside he asks me if we can dance in Lucky Bar. "Um, no, I don't want to dance tonight." "You are uptight. You're not fun at all. You do act old." Finally, I blow up, "look, I'm definitely not the dance on a bar naked, go home with random dudes sort of girl. I think I'm plenty fun, and I appear to have a pretty great social life, so I'm assuming I'm not a total dud. That being said, you aren't going to make me act a certain way by taunting me. Perhaps it would be best if we didn't try to be friends. I don't like you boring, but I hate you like this."

Peter and Ralph were walking out as we walked in. "Let me get my jacket and Adam, and let's go somewhere else. Please leave that asshole behind," Suave said to me. The Jackass had wandered up and was seated in someone's booth by himself. I waved as we walked out.

We followed the boys to Front Page where Ralph and I danced like maniacs to Bon Jovi. See, I am fun when not provoked to be on my guard!

Sunday morning I woke up hideously hungover. Suave hosted brunch where I spent the morning and early afternoon massaging my temples.

As I was washing my face last night, I looked at myself with bags under my eyes and no makeup. I started to process the details of the evening again. Do I wish I was the type of girl who could just put up with immature guys? Yeah, sometimes. But, that's really not who I am, and I'm not going to change for anyone. Simple.


  • At March 26, 2007, Blogger I-66 said…

    How exactly does one pretend to be boring? I don't get it.

    I can't speak for everyone, but New Kids didn't have a bunch of hits, Chinese food doesn't make me sick unless mushrooms are in it, and I don't really like girls who wear Abercrombie and Fitch.

  • At March 26, 2007, Blogger GreenEggsSamDC said…

    i-66: Thrilled to hear you're not into preteen girls (isn't it creepy to anyone else that those boys were all 25+ singing about Abercrombie. I mean, honestly, who wears that past being 20?)

    How to pretend to be boring:

    Step 1: Explain to the girl your dating that you go to bed at 9pm every night so you can run 5 miles every morning. Also, remark how you keep clothes at your parents so you can change there before work.

    Step 2: Only invite her over for dinners you cooked and TV watching.

    Step 3: Explain how you can't wait to settle down immediately and have kids.

    Step 4: Have nothing to talk about on a regular basis except your love for early 90s rap, your brother's upcoming divorce, and your Shabbat dinner at your parents.

    Step 5: Keep Kosher and eat a strict health diet (meaning, you can only eat salad with no dressing out).

    I could continue, however I'm yawning as I write this.


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