Last Saturday I was so lucky as to be both wearing a black dress and in my ex's company, and it took only me arriving for the ridicule to start. I withstood these smirks for about forty-five minutes before it just got plain uncomfortable. That, and I'd finished my whiskey soda, so it was new drink or new party. I decided that as fun as frat boy was making my evening, I missed my similarly dressed friends on the lower east side.
Another comment hit me like a tennis ball and that was it! I'd had enough! No more comments! No more making me uncomfortable for looking nice! And I was very proud as I announced this to the room - with most of its guests not giving a shit if I was in a skirt or a towel - that I was Leaving! Goodbye! I turned to make my theatrical exit (take that, frat boy) when I walked into the wall.
I had a choice: show that my nose may or may not be bleeding or deal with it in a taxi.
Theatrical indeed.
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Epilogue: The buzzing of my cell phone woke me the next morning. Rubbing my aching nose, I checked my texts, and found one from my "frat boy" ex (who, midnight having passed and her own hangover having set in, had turned back into a pumpkin): "Sorry I was a jerk. I thought the dress looked cute."
Of course, I had known all along that she liked the dress; all I had to do to reach this conclusion was remember the effect a certain similar-length denim mini skirt had had on her in the days when our "dance" was a little more fun. And so, to make a long story short, I forgave her, and let her steal a lot of really awesome music from my hard drive.
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