Note: there is no part 2 in the works… Yet. The Wedding happened a week and a half ago so this story will continue when it continues.
It was a good, be it predictable wedding weekend so far. The bride, groom, and the bride’s family rented some beach houses for a few days before and after the wedding, and everyone was relaxing. There was alcohol, the was sun and swimming, and friends old and new from the couple’s life. I had already met more or less all of them, and was now nursing a combination of fever and hangover to perk myself up for the ceremony. It was, after all, I that introduced the bride and the groom together, so I was ready to be a mini-star.
The ceremony was brief, but nice, and as we made our way from the ceremony to the reception, I noticed a girl walking in the distance – and she stood out. In a parade of people old and young, the unspoken rule of “don’t steal the bride’s thunder” was never broken. That’s why “cough medicine purple” was a staple color of bridesmaid dresses for years. But there she was – tight red dress, bra exposed behind its laced back, sky high heels, all eyes were on her.
Except mine. I was making my way down with a good friend of mine – and then he observed the tradition of ethnic marriage everywhere. One by one, older people from the grooms side started coming up to me. “You look like one of ours,” they said, referring to my nationality, “What’s your name?”. I shrugged off the interview style questions as people being nice and tipsy, but before long I heard “You single? See that girl over there, she’s a very nice girl”. They pointed to the girl in the red dress. I knew what this implied.
“So who’s the girl?” I asked the groom. “She’s a childhood friend of mine, we haven’t seen each other in an eternity, but funny enough, she was the first vagina I saw when we were both 7”.
She sat at the table next to ours, I was going to introduce myself soon enough, as soon as the bride’s former co-worker stops hanging on to her and goes to the bathroom. No matter how strong his game was I had an incredible in – the old people fanclub and the groom. Patience was on my side.
I leveraged the old people praise into an opening. It couldn’t have gone smoother. We surprisingly had quite a few things in common. But then I realized she wasn’t just the “hot girl of the wedding”, she was the “hot girl AT the wedding”. And there is a difference. Withing 10 seconds of finding out that we both went to the same city for college, she name dropped that cities most popular rappers and said “she was friends and partied with them”. Not surprising, hot girls get offered free shit by celebrities all the time. Be unphased and move on.
I then learned she lives a few streets away from me. “Oh cool, what are your favorite spots in the neighborhood?” “I don’t really go out there, I have a few promoter friends so when I go out it’s usually at Double Seven or the Boom Boom Room”.
Another name drop. For those not familiar with NYC nightlife – the Boom Boom Room is considered the most impossible door in the city, with models and celebrities awaiting the victors inside. I have never made it past the door, so to be in there consistently means that you party with stars on a constant basis. It’s a major power play and name drop to say that. And once again, I was unphased.
“You’re missing out, there’s lots of stuff on our block, there’s a stretch of 4 streets where each street had a restaurant recommended by the Travel Channel”. Not even missing a beat.
Time to get this girls number. “Let’s see if your old people fan club is right about you. Let’s grab a drink next week”. “I’m actually seeing someone”. “So am I, what does that have to do with proving the old people right or wrong?”. No hesitation. The groom came over a few minutes later and shared some dirty childhood stories about the both of them. Perfect timing. What else can bring a name dropper down to Earth faster than a childhood story? Nothing.
Flash forward to last weekend, I’m getting brunch drunk with my friends – the perfect married couple (I’ll get back to them later, but they’re not the same couple from the wedding, but they attended it). I told them about the girl from the wedding, and asked them for some intel about her, since they sat at the same table.
“Well, she’s certainly not the relaxed hippy chicks that you prefer man, within seconds of meeting her, she told us how she’s friends with a Swedish prince as well as the guy that invented NYC brunch parties, out of the blue. I’ve never met someone who’s THAT full of shit, THAT fast. Our parents are actually friends, her own parents said that they have no hopes of her being her own person and are just waiting for her to marry some rich guy. Even her parents say she has no friends”.
But was she full of shit? We know the realities of the hot girl in NYC – you get free shit all the time, from free drinks, free meals, free tickets, free trips. There is so much free shit that after a while it might seem normal. Their realities are warped. Their values are warped. To an outsider it might seem delusional, but to the hot girl it’s life. Maybe that’s why she “had no friends” – because to a outsider who grinds hard every day to meet the career requirements of New York she might just appear spoiled. But to her it’s normal. Hot girls can only really be friends with other hot girls.
And what do I want to do? Part of me just wants to take her out for a drink, and find out more about her, maybe uncover a connection I can build on. Part of me just wants to have sex with this really hot girl (and let’s face it, i didn’t learn much about her at the ceremony, except that she likes to name drop, but I’d still pipe). Part of me wants to enter this hot girls world, even as a friend, because if she is delusional to think this NYC decadence is normal, then maybe she might just bring me in it (after all, according to her parents, she “has no friends”). And part of me just wants to win this one for the men, to prove that for all of this talk about societies you can’t join and clubs you can’t buy into, unless you have the connections or the money, it can be overcome with the right amount of swag by being true to yourself, and ignoring all those environmental factors by accepting them as they are – distractions.
I don’t know what I want to do with this girl. But I do know that it all starts with me inviting her for a drink. Who knows, maybe she’ll name drip my favorite dive bar after.
TO BE CONTINUED