I Wore A Sweatshirt To Dinner.

I landed in LA still in a daze, I don’t know why I was so surprised my husband went back on his word to help me out financially and shut down our bank account with no notice, but somehow I was.  He had lied to me for over six years and all of a sudden I am surprised by this??? Now who is the crazy one?

After I landed I went home and took a nap, my body was like a rag doll.  Soon my girlfriends were calling and telling me we were going out for sushi.  I said, “NO fucking way,” I wasn’t going anywhere and to top it off I had no money (well I had money, but I had no access to it).  I was perfectly happy cocooned in my bed wearing an old oversized cashmere sweater with holes in it that I wore around when I was feeling sick or depressed.  I wasn’t going anywhere, after all, I didn’t want to eat and I could get booze delivered if I ran out!  After being told I didn’t’ really have a choice and they would cover me at dinner I realized they were already on their way so I motivated enough to change into jeans and a sweatshirt (the only sweatshirt I owned).  I would have kept the cashmere sweater on but the holes made it so I would have to wear a bra in public and there was no way hell that was happening.  They picked me up and we were headed to one of our favorite local spots hidden in a strip mall.

We sat down and I picked the seat with my back to the door, the last thing I needed was to see anyone I knew.  Gina and Lisa were being so kind, no one had even mentioned the sweatshirt. We ordered a bit of sushi and a bottle of sake, then another bottle of sake, then a few beers, then another bottle of sake, and another.  At first when the girls asked if I wanted to talk about everything of course I said no but somewhere after the second bottle of sake, or was it the third, I was cursing my husband at a volume not acceptable for a small sushi restaurant that we ate at frequently.

Next thing I know, due to my super clear head and excellent judgment I agreed, with very little persuasion, to go out for drinks- more drinks.  I only agreed to go if we could go to the one place where I knew men would not be an issue; The Abbey, West Hollywood’s most famous and fabulous gay bar!   As soon as we arrived I had another genius thought, we all needed shots!  I was on a roll!  I headed straight to the back bar past the go-go dancers and ordered a round.  Mr. Tall handsome, scruffy facial hair, baseball cap, cut arms and tight t-shirt said “don’t worry about it, the shots are on me.” Damn, I thought to myself, even with a tear stained drunken face and a sweatshirt I can still pull free drinks in a bar or I just looked really pathetic.   I convinced myself it was option A so before I knew it I was half way on the bar and in a lip lock.  Not leaning on the bar but on top of the bar, I don’t even know how I got up there so quickly.  Only in LA is this acceptable to the point that no one even batted an eye.  The crowd and dancers might be gay at The Abbey, but the bartenders are straight.  After coming back to reality, I grabbed the shots and set out to find the girls and tell them about my free shots and spontaneous make out. Maybe I should be depressed and wear sweatshirts out drinking in gay bars more often, it seemed to be working pretty well!  When I suggested we do another round of shots, clearly just so I could sneak another kiss, I realized I was having a bit too much fun and the girls gently pointed out that maybe I needed to go home!

I woke up the next morning, with a throbbing headache from a hangover, and realized I had to get a plan, but first I needed breakfast.  I ordered breakfast from my favorite corner cafe; green juice, fresh squeezed orange juice, buckwheat pancakes and turkey bacon.  I slipped on the biggest pair of sunglasses I could find, between the crying for two days and night out drinking I looked like something that got caught in the drain of the shower at a public pool, and I walked to the corner to pick it up my food. As I was walking out of my building my phone rang,  I was scared to even look at the number but when I saw it was my friend James I decided to pick up.

“Talk quietly, I am super hungover.  I wore a sweatshirt out last night… a sweatshirt James!!  Then I made out with a bartender at The Abbey, oh and I asked my husband for a divorce two days ago… well I asked the therapist for one.  It’s a long story and I can’t talk about it right now.” I said without ever even saying hello.

“Which bartender, short and stalky or the tall one with the scruffy beard?”  he asked.

“Tall with a scruffy beard, wait how to you know the bartenders?  I asked

“It’s The Abbey, every gay man knows the bartenders, they make out with every straight girl that comes in.  Anyway, that is not why I am calling.  I have a favor to ask you,” he said.

Feeling more special than ever and no in the mood to grant any favors I begrudgingly ask “what kind of favor?”

“You know how I am in Greece next month?  Well, my friend Andrew is coming to town and he is really fun and your age and I would really appreciate it if you could just have dinner or something.  I will connect you by email first.  Ok?” he asked.

“James, no.  I am not in the mood to date anyone and certainly not babysit someone for you.  Can’t he just wait till you are back in town?”  I replied.

“Keylee you will love him I promise.  Just answer the email and then decide” he insisted.  “Ok, gotta go.  Congrats on the make out, thank God it was a cute one! Oh, and burn that sweatshirt- you can’t leave the house in a sweatshirt ever again, you are single now!  Bye!”

After breakfast and a nap, I called my parents to fill them in, tell them I was totally broke and cut off from everything but that I was safe and back in LA.   My parents were frantic.  They didn’t like the way this was all going down and they were not shy about telling me.  “When are you calling a lawyer?” my mother asked.  “I don’t know, I need some time,” I kept saying.  Telling someone you want a divorce and actually filing for divorce is two very different things.  I had taken the first step and that was all I had in me for now.  I knew they were right but ugh, couldn’t it just magically happen? Where was the magic divorce fairy when I needed her?  Sigh.


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