Last night I went to the bar for the first time in a year. The last time I went was for a stagette. That wonderful outing is also documented in this blog. (Hey, I've been writing this for over a year! Wow. That's very surprising actually as I have a very short attention span and lose interest in things easily. There are very few things I can actually continue for a year. Apparently marriage is not one of them) Anyways, I digress, the last time I went to the bar was for a stagette. I can't remember the last time before that. My point is that I don't go to the bar very often. I used to when I was quite a bit younger but the bar scene now doesn't really appeal to me. If I'm going to go out for the night I prefer pubs. It's rare to see a girl in a spandex mini skirt dancing on top of a speaker in a pub. I'm ok with that. And I'm not judging. I'm sure she felt very free with no underwear on. It was probably very constricting when she wrapped her legs around the pole. I guess I should have thanked her for giving my friend a top notch birthday present. All he had to do was sit and watch. Usually you have to pay for a view like that.
I had a really good time though which was surprising. Usually I feel really uncomfortable at bars because when I was 19 I would always look at the girls in their 30's and think, "Wow, I really hope I have a life at that point". I probably thought I would have a husband and kids by the time I was 32. Ha ha. Sucker. There were, however, quite a few people my age there so I felt alright. Most of the songs they played I even recognized. So there. I'm not that old.
The best part of the night was at the beginning. I was actually ID'd at the door. And that wasn't even the best part. The best part was that the guy, at first, thought it wasn't me. "Are you sure?", he asked? "Um, yes". Like my friend said, if I was to lie about my age, why would I pick 32? I never had a fake ID when I was 18 but I'd like to think that people who do that type of thing wouldn't be as bold as to fake that they're in their mid-30's. "Yes, large bouncer, not only am I legal drinking age but I'm also 35. See? It says so on my ID." Mind you, it was pretty dark in the bar so my true age probably didn't show through. I was really tempted to ask him to turn on the light after which he would see the wrinkles around my eyes and lines on my forehead. I'd pull the skin on my cheeks and say, "See? Does this bounce into place like the skin of a 20 year old? No it does not. Did I tell you my knees and hips hurt like a son-of-a-bitch after an hour at the batting cages? They do. Do you want to take a look at my thighs after a winter of complete inactivity? It's not pretty honey. A peak at those puppies will surely wipe that look of disbelief off your face and replace it with one of semi-horror."
But I didn't say any of those things. Instead I just allowed myself to be a bit flattered even though I knew the main reason he ID'd me was because my friend looks like she's 14. (It's a compliment Angela, and a slight exaggeration). And then I proceeded to dance and have fun, despite my old hips and knees, knowing that my lovely thighs were safely covered underneath my jeans.