Charming, but single

I have survived Hurricane Rita. Scary-large branch on my car, but no major damage. Spent most of the night on my balcony drinking wine and talking about life with a friend who was sheltering in the place with me.

More updates later.

Love, S

Friday night was fun. Beer and good music. Fun. Not much else to note.

Saturday I had an insane amount of appearance-related maintenance. I felt shallow making hair and nail appointments, spending money on silly things like highlights when people I know don’t have houses. I feel guilty spending almost any money right now. Do I need this $3.50 peach tea drink? What about $85 highlights in my hair?

Maybe it is a mild case of survivor’s guilt. For better or for worse, I got the highlights and the haircut and the brow wax and the nails and the pedicure. I contributed to the economy, I guess.

I am a firm believer in not “wasting the pretty,” which is pretty much the only phrase from “He’s Just Not That Into You” that I use regularly. I was free of about an inch of split ends and excess brows and sporting allover blondish-caramel highlights and rose toes and trimmed bangs and fake nails (because the crazy work hours led to me biting my nails, which can only be cured with pretty fakes). I was feeling pretty polished and I had several verbal commitments from friends who also wanted to go out and be fabulous.

Slowly things began to unravel. One friend was too tired to go out after going to a wedding and another wanted to stay in with her boyfriend and watch football games. Though they invited me to join them, I was not interested in being the third wheel, so I passed. I left a few messages that were left unreturned and resigned my fully dressed, newly coifed and made-up self to a night of Saturday Night Live and Woodchuck Dark and Dry.

And old friend stopped by and entertained me for a few hours. He drank the Flying Dog “In Heat Wheat” that I wasn’t crazy about and we watched Napoleon Dynamite. I finally kicked him out around 2:30 a.m. and passed out.

Today I visited my grandparents and my parents and all of the evacuees they have with them.

Pretty relaxing weekend all around.

P.S. I e-mailed jerkoff from the last post back. I was gracious. I kind of rambled about the hurricane and gave some details about my family’s situation. I updated him on my job and wished him luck with the girlfriend. Perhaps I overreacted to the e-mail because I’d been working a lot and was just generally stressed out. It probably wasn’t wisest e-mail for him to send, but I think I let my bitterness get the best of me when I assumed ill will on his part. It is oftentimes easier to forgive someone for past wrongs than it is to forget being hurt.

He hasn’t e-mailed me back. I guess he’s engaged now. Odd.

So, I got an e-mail from a guy I was totally taken with several years ago. It was terrible and sad because I was so smitten and I denied it forever. And he was unavailable and he was taken and it would never ever work out, and he knew how I felt and he loved it and got off on it.

Jerk.

We hadn’t spoken or e-mailed in years. Like, at least two. He doesn’t live here and he hasn’t been on my radar.

He wanted to know how I weathered Katrina, so he e-mailed, which was nice of him. He said he’d been thinking about me and my family. All very nice and appropriate. I’ve been getting similar e-mails from people. It is nice to know that people, even those you aren’t close with anymore, do think about you during a rough time.

He gave me a short update about his career and his life and then casually mentioned that he was planning on asking his girlfriend to marry him soon. He closed by saying that life was going “fantastic” for him and he hoped it was going to same for me.

Look, I know it is rough to send someone an e-mail asking if they’re alive or under 15 feet of floodwater. I wouldn’t know what to say either. And for all he knew I had moved far far away from the Gulf Coast and was terribly safe and the idle chit-chat about jobs and impending engagements would serve as a nice chance to catch up with an old friend.

The converse is also true. For all he knew I had moved into downtown New Orleans and had lost everything. We hadn’t talked in two years and he’s off of my “new phone number/address” e-mail list.

But an e-mail that essentially says, “Hope you didn’t die in the storm, I’m getting married!” is a bit of a shock to the system. I’m annoyed and pissed off and the fact that I’m annoyed and pissed off just makes me MORE annoyed and pissed off.

So, jury of my peers, am I overreacting? Am I the only one who thinks this is a bit out of line?

When I was in college, I hung out with a large group of girls. For three semesters in a row, we went to the same bar on Thursday and Friday nights. (Consistently. Like, they should have charged us rent.)

It’s a beautiful night and we were sitting on the outside deck of the bar enjoying our favorite Ladies Night drink — watered down vodka and cranberry with a generous splash of lime. (Free, of course.)

I was feeling a bit tipsy (shocking, I know!) and I spied a cute boy across the deck. Maybe it was the cheap, bottom-shelf vodka that made me feel bold and sexy, but I decided I was going to go hit on him. (Very out of character for me at the time.)

The ladies at the table were about to light their cigarettes (because we smoked and drank together like a pack of addicted wolves) and I announced that I was going to go flirt a light off of the cute boy (who was smoking a cigarette) and his friend.

“Put your lighters away,” I demanded.

I walked over, and in my best drunk-drooling-22-year-old-girl voice, I said, “Excuse me, I’m S. My friends and I were wondering if you could spare a light. We’re all out.”

As I said this, I motioned to the table where my friends were sitting. As the cute boys looked over, I felt embarrassment come over me.

My damn friends were making a huge show of lighting their cigarettes, with four damn lighters on the table.

“It looks like they’ve got in under control,” the cutie said, looking a bit annoyed.

I lowered my head in shame and sulked back over to my friends, who were all too pleased with themselves.

Bitches.