A friend from middle school messaged me on Facebook to have drinks with her and her husband. I hadn't seen her in a while, and although going into it I knew it wasn't going to end well, I accepted. My husband and I got ready that night and hoped for the best. I actually got to wear my leopard leggings that have been sitting in my closet with the price tag on since I bought them last fall (because when can you actually wear leopard leggings.)
We walked in to the bar that we planned to meet at about five minutes late. They weren't there yet, and although it was packed, the crowd seemed very lame. I have been dieting since the holidays ended to get my bikini body back by May, and this diet includes not drinking. Immediately, I started sucking the alcohol down! Not that I needed a release from reality, or because I was in an uneasy situation. I just needed to spice things up.
They walked in, and I must admit she looked great! I thought for a split second that maybe this would be better than I anticipated. That idea was quickly swept away.
[To simplify things, we will call this friend Barbara and her husband will be referred to as Bob. Lol, those seem like really old names for this couple but it was the first thing that came to mind.]
After the customary hug and, "You look great," the brazen comments began. Thankfully, I tackled each one with an equally offensive remark. She asked why I didn't have children yet and insinuated that my husband and I are having trouble conceiving (which is the farthest from the truth, we choose not to have babies yet.) She gossiped about a mutual friend of ours being pregnant, and this friend hasn't told anyone but her yet. One of Barbara's wisecracks about that was, "well [name omitted] doesn't use birth control because she is Catholic, ha, I guess she will start using it now." I almost kicked her in her vagina but I had my Stuart Weitzman boots on and they aren't easy to clean.
Everything out of Barbara's mouth for the next hour was about her kids, which are "so wonderful." I leaned over to my husband who looked just as miserable and whispered, "I need another drink."
The hostess moved us from the bar to a table, where I was sat next to Barbara. This agitated me more, because everything she said was followed by a sharp slug to my upper arm.
Bob and her dismissed themselves to smoke a cigarette giving my husband and I an opportunity to plan our exit strategy. We were there for only an hour and a half, and although I didn't want to appear rude, I wanted out of there.
Their cigarette break seemed to last longer than most. Barbara finally returned and said seriously, "Bob will be awhile."
Confused, I questioned, "Is he sick?" Because why else would someone be awhile when you are out at a bar? I never expected the truth...
"No. Bob found a homeless man outside and the man told him he was hungry. The man asked us if this place was expensive and we told him it was, so Bob decided to walk him down to the pizza place and buy him something to eat."
That was very kind and I understand the importance of paying it forward, but the last time I was out with my real friends and a homeless woman approached us and said she was hungry, someone in my group handed her a breath mint.
To sound normal, I told her that was a wonderful thing for him to do, trying to end the topic.
But it didn't end. Barbara proceeded to preach to my husband and I about how we should be doing that too. As she got up to get another drink from the bar, she said, "We will all be the same in the end, won't we?"
Bob came back and they stood at the bar talking to another couple. So they were pushy, annoying, and now rude. We were done. My husband and I got up, thanked Bob for his kindness to humanity, got our coats, and left.
I doubt Barbara will be messaging for drinks anytime soon.