When my 50something neighbor invited herself to my co-worker’s Valentine’s Day party, I didn’t have high expectations.
Honestly, we hardly knew each other, I hardly knew Gary, and we both would be, by far, the oldest guests at the party. So I figured we’d get some strange looks and leave after an hour.
But when we didn’t get home until 2am, and three guys at the party asked for Donna’s number, and I ripped my pants from dancing, I remembered how surprising life can really be.
Maybe it’s because we were nearly 10-30 years older than most of the people at the party, or that we were the two wearing red in a crowd of 20-30somethings dressed in black. Or maybe it’s because Gary and Jane (her stage name, she revealed, is Donna), had everyone dancing within the first hour – but the party became about us.
Most of all, it became about Jane.
I didn’t know she’s an actress, but she took hold of the dance floor like a concert stage, twirling and dragging any person lining the perimeter of the living room into her own, tiny circle of uninhibitedness. She was sweating and laughing, amused by my own attempt to move my legs in what could resemble coordination and rhythm. That was when I ripped my pants. It was by the knee, so it was fine. They were old.
Gary: Where did you meet her?
Me: Across the hall. Jane’s my neighbor. I told you that when we came in.
Gary: Oh, oh yeah. Yeah.
He took a big gulp of his sixth beer and leaned in.
Gary: Are you guys, like, together or something?
I knew he’d ask.
Me: No, no. She’s simply my neighbor, she invited herself, we’re here as friends.
Gary: “Friends.”
Me: Friends.
And then he ate a brownie off the plate beside him and pointed across the room to a serious, late20something guy standing against the wall of the living room, shoveling a pig-in-a-blanket into his mouth.
Gary: Cool, because he’s asking about her.
Me: What?
Gary pointed to a 30something guy in the kitchen drinking expensive champagne out of a Solo cup.
Gary: And so is his friend, but he doesn’t know that.
Me: Wow.
Gary: Yeah, you don’t mind, right? I mean, she’s pretty awesome. I’m sorry my friends are lame, in comparison to her.
Me: No, I mean, I’m pretty sure she’s single. She can do whatever she wants, really.
Gary: Cool. Have you met my friend Amy? She dated my ex, but she’s cool.
And before I could answer, he dragged me into the foyer where a very trendy, glossy-looking girl stood with her jacket in her hands and her eyes on her phone.
Gary: This is Doug. He’s awesome. Talk to him.
Amy: I’m leaving, Gary. I’m getting up early tomorrow.
Gary: Oh, just chill for once.
Then Gary walked away and left me with the girl who wanted nothing to do with me.
Me: If you wanna go, you can go… I don’t wanna make you–
Amy: Oh, really? Okay, cool.
And then she started actually walking out.
Me: Or, wait, you can stay or something for a second. Just because we’ve never met before.
And then she turned around and looked at me like I was some lost five-year-old in a shopping mall, hiding under a table in the men’s department.
Amy: Are you single or something.
Me: Yeah, I am, I mean, I’d imagine most people at this party are.
Amy: Yeah, I’m not really looking to date.
Me: Okay. Then why did you come here?
Amy: Because I’m friends with Gary, and I’m sick of Netflix.
Me: Okay, I get it.
And then we just stood there.
Amy: How do you know him.
Me: We work together at the firm.
Amy: Oh. Cool.
“Finance” is so hit-or-miss with women. Some see dollar signs, and some see a sell-out. Both are right, really.
Amy: Yeah, I don’t really date finance guys.
Me: Really. Why?
Amy: Cause they’re boring and traditional and shallow, usually.
Me: Well what do you do?
Amy: I’m an editor, cover nightlife and restaurants. I’m just not really looking to date.
Me: Alright then, that’s fine, that’s fine. Have a good night.
So then I turned around and walked back into the living room, grabbing a beer. I was about to call Jane over when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
Amy: So if you want my number, you can have it. I will give it to you.
Me: But you’re not looking to date or anything.
Amy: Yeah, but I need to get out more. Where’s your phone.
I took out my phone and she gave me her number.
Me: I’m very boring and traditional and shallow, though. We’ll have an awful time.
Amy: Yeah, well, that’s nothing new.
And then she turned around and walked out. Women are confusing.
One hour later and Jane and I were riding the elevator back up to the eighth floor, exhausted.
Jane: I’m proud of you, Doug.
Me: Because I danced?
Jane: Yes. And when I invited myself to your friend’s party, you didn’t say no. I didn’t expect you to do that.
Me: I didn’t have a choice, really.
Jane: You hardly knew me and I’m so much older than you and your nice friends, but you still let me come to the party. It says a lot about you. It says a lot about your character.
Me: Perhaps.
Jane: It does.
Me: Or maybe it just means I could use a friend.
She laughed and smiled.
Jane: Everyone could.
And then she said goodnight, and walked into her apartment.
thesaintgermain 