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july 28, 2000. copied from a paper diary, written while on location at Savage Garden
11:40
I've never done anything like this before - never gone out to a club with no friends and no money in my pocket. I've got keys & my little doll & a story about Bobby Orr & a pencil. So here we are, killing time until Dirk & the rest of the Spag crew show up. Sitting in the corner, writing.
I think I'm being hit on. For the first time - I think ever - I don't feel all creeped out. He's very non creepy. He says I took his corner. This place - and all goth clubs really - should be built like polyhedrons: they need more than 2 back corners for sulking goths. In any case, he bought me a Corona and doesn't seem to expect anything more than the occasional witty sally in between mad scribbling. This is what being a pretty girl is all about, or so I've read. *grin*
I hated my hair when we left the salon. All it needed was a bit of gunk & water. Stir with a brief bout of friendly tussling & chill for an hour. Yeah, I like it.
As I said to Dirk, I look too fabulous to stay in & wait for the Boy. Although I hope he comes out. I left him a note on the pizza box, signed with hearts & daisies. He bought me the pizza to make me feel better, after I spent a full hour crying that I'd spent 8 months looking ugly just so I could ruin my hair 3 weeks before the wedding. Then, during the Simpsons, he ran out for Diet Coke, presenting me with multi-coloured daisies on his return. He was being so sweet. There's really nothing like a sympathetic ear who distracts you with pop & pretty things. He's going to be a Grade A husband, I can tell. He can look rattle snake PMS in the eye & treat it with smiles & kinder eggs. A jewel among men.
Maybe I'm not worried about this guy who's hitting on me because I have an in with the bouncer. Although every time I look at Jessie, I can't help picturing him as Princess Leia. Damn, I wish I had pictures from that night. Jessie stuffing various things into the front of his tunic...)
Why would anyone want to play pool here, especially in the serious take-no-prisoners style on display? Maybe it's just another way to keep yer hands busy while you unobtrusively check out the cuties. Maybe they're just idiots. It's not an unreasonable theory - 2 of the regular players have been introduced to me a multitude of times, yet they never remember my face or name.
12:15
"at worst, I'd spend the evening dodging rohipnol & cabbing it home at 2 a.m." Very lonely. Pick-Up Guy is gone. Jesse & Paul are avoiding eye-contact. I'm leaving at 1 if no one shows.
AMUSE YOURSELVES, DAMMIT!!
(postscript: Dirk showed up 5 minutes after the last line was written, and bought me a beer as a way od apologizing. We talked about Western and I sat in my corner all night. I was glad I came out.)
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