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Episode 18: The Jumpsuit Night

This morning I woke up with a resounding question, “Am I really full of shit?”, and complete numbness in my feet courtesy of my heels last night.

Let’s recap. Also, pardon the bluntness and potential erratic writing. I may be of the hungover type right this moment, and I may also be having an imaginary conversation with Bill Skarsgård about a movie we filmed together in my head. (If you’re reading this Bill, we should talk.)

My friend celebrated her birthday last night. She planned a little gathering at someone’s apartment which has one of those communal rooms with pool tables and all that jazz. We were late, oops, because we had a prep party at my house filled with makeovers, wine and tarot card readings. (I read tarot cards.)

We’ve been pumped about this party for a bit. We both look incredible, and I’m thinking, we’re hitting the clubs and we are having the awesomest fun evar. I’m wearing a hot jumpsuit. And heels. This is happening.

#mood #canteven

We finally get there and her friend is, understandably so, annoyed at her (us). He cornered her to talk about it before she joined the rest of the party in the room. Which really annoyed me. I appreciate that he thought the situation was awkward because she wasn’t at her own party, which he graciously hosted, for a bit – fair on him truly, he’s fully allowed to be angry. What really ticked me was that he would talk to her about it then.

What ever happened to masquerade? People at Court built whole lives and countries around that, and they didn’t do too bad for themselves, minus a couple of beheadings, imprisonments, and coup d’états. It’s all about the Importance of Being Earnest.

I’m obviously exaggerating. But there’s a time and place for everything and that was definitely neither the time nor the place to give her shit. At her own birthday party? Would it have been that bad to have that discussion over a cup of coffee the next day? The worst that someone ever did to me on my birthday was deny me of McDonald’s at 3am. (I’m looking at you, Alex.)

So in I pop into her group of friends whom I’ve never met before, already a bit weirded out by this guy. They’re watching the Lady Gaga documentary on Netflix, but they were discussing which comedy to watch instead.

And I’m like, “HI EVERYONE I’M RUXANDRA. SO NICE TO MEET YOU. WHY ARE YOU WATCHING NETFLIX?! LET’S PUT SOME MUSIC ON AND DANCE AND TALK. IT’S A PARTYYYYY.”

I may have been obnoxious. I’ll take it. But, guys. Come on. It’s a Saturday night, we’re supposed to mingle and whatnot. Anyhow, they hated me. It’s all fine. Apparently, it’s because I’m artsy and they’re all researchers – I’m trying not to be offended by that statement, but hey, I’m artsy so I can be emotional, right?

But by now I’m pretty confused by the atmosphere of this party. Then something else happened which bummed me out even more (unrelated to me which is why I’m not disclosing it in the blog).

At some point during the night I realize that I may not have been a proper lady that knows how to network and be pleasant with everyone. I attempt to rectify that by talking to people, including the host (the guy who cornered my friend).

He’s doing a PhD in Sociology (Information?), so we start discussing that. According to him, some of my suggestions were condescending. I apologized, mentioning that it was definitely not my intention to make him feel that way. He didn’t really take any of it well. Clearly, I was doing zero things right last night. At which point he said, “you should stick to your arts.”

And my brain went like “oh no he didn’t.” But I’m trying to keep some sort of composure – I was drunk though so I’m sure all drops of composure had evaporated out of my body quicker than a drunk person inhales their 3 AM Big Mac (still not over it, Alex).

I mention my psychology background, but he’s still sticking to his “stick with your arts” routine. So, I said the only reasonable thing possible:</