2.09.2013

Ironic.



Adjective: Happening in the opposite way to what is expected, thus typically causing wry amusement.

I cannot say I am contented to be home from my twenty four hour get away. It really was such a nice escape and we were very fortunate to be in the most beautiful home; seriously it was my dream house. Up on a mountain, wooden beams, panoramic windows and not a curtain in sight, the most gorgeous kitchen with a back splash I have only encountered in editorial photos, white walls adorned with so many green plants you would think it was a garden party. But the cherry on top was definitely the claw-foot bathtub. I would have stayed there forever.
There is something so tranquil about being up north. It was particularly satisfying to know that once we arrived we didn’t have anywhere else to be for the next fifteen to twenty hours. Just sit back and relax, start the Friday night celebration with a shot of Tequila, pop a bottle of wine, or two (or four, five?), enjoy some great Mexican food cooked by our host and thus begin a night of fun and games.
Was I naive to think that our male host (one of my very best friend’s new boyfriend) would spend an entire night with four very best girl friends as we drank wine and girl talked? It wasn’t long after dinner that he questioned would we mind if a few of his friends came by to have a drink. By this time, we were a few glasses of wine in and I couldn’t care less if my face was makeup-less with not even so much as a swipe of mascara on my lashes. How could we refuse? After all it was his parent’s home and he was our every so gracious host.
A little wine later, two of his male friends walk in, and OBVIOUSLY one of them has to be a total babe. Tall, dark with an ever so light speckle of grey hair (which I personally think is so attractive), ocean blue eyes and a demeanor that had us all in a fluster. Here I am, in my winter leggings, thick wool socks, wearing a t-shirt and hoodie. In truth, I didn’t bring any makeup with me so there was not much I could do to save the situation, but I couldn’t help but wonder, had I even brushed my hair? Of course he sits down next to me, but not without asking if it was okay with me first.
Initial attraction, check. Gentleman, check.
The remainder of the night can be summed up by vodka, Jack Daniels, tequila and drinking games and as the night progressed, the man next to me became even more intriguing. He was funny, smart, and down to earth; did I mention his ocean blue eyes? I kept myself quieter than usual, only because me and alcohol sometimes make a fool of ourselves. But did he notice our legs underneath the table kept leaning against each other? Because I clearly did. And was it my imagination, or did he keep rubbing my back and finding excuses to touch me? I always wanted to date friends with one of my best friends...and yes I was thinking way ahead of myself for two point five seconds.
And then his phone rang. He got up and walked a few feet away from the loud and tipsy table. He was quietly arguing with someone. I heard him briefly explain he was at his friend’s house with his friend’s girlfriend and her friends.
He walked back into the fun vicinity and sat down.
His jealous girlfriend was not happy.
Merde.

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