I decided not to delete my previous post, even though it is by far the most ‘pathetic’ one I ever posted. But it was realistic to the situation I was in at the moment. This site is called ‘omniversing’, so I feel like sharing any of my universes. I never was (intentionally!) fake, and I always say things the way they are to the best of my interpretation of perception.
I wish I were here ‘outing’ myself as gay or something. I think that would be easy compared to the ’shame’ of being a ‘depressed person’. So bla. Read on.
It is 7 AM and I just got back from all night partying at the ah so infamous Fisher Island down in Miami. Speaking of turd in a punchbowl. I have never seen so many fake tits in my life. Some on some really unfortunate looking women. I cannot help myself but remember Larry the cable guy and his ‘putting fake tits on an old woman is like hanging a brand new chandelier in a haunted house’. I think I’d get arrested for that one @ Fisher Island. For those who don’t know, Fisher Island is a place in Miami where people like Oprah have that one extra summer home, and where every girl looks like a version of Paris Hilton.
Before we got to the club, my former college roommates and I went to a nice hibachi place. At the hibachi bar, there was another ‘party’ of 4 people. A couple of mid age guys in white crisp shirts, a wound up 35ish year old guy and with them- so obviously- a cheap looking escort girl. Now- my roommates, both of them, are exceptionally hot. One of them was high up in the Miss Mediterranean a couple years back(if not one of the first 3) and works as an international real estate adviser (at age 25!), and the other one has never made it to beauty pageants - not because of lack of looks at all- but because she is finalizing her Doctorate in business and/or finance at age 26. I absolutely adore them both, they are the best roommates I have ever had and despite me being so different from them in so many ways, I wouldn’t want them to be anything else then what they are. I literally baked cookies for both of them and did so with utmost joy.
Now- the 3 birdies + ‘hookah’ sitting at the hibachi bar were my first contact with any people outside my very small friend circle that had access to me during my grief period in the past 2 years. For me, it just so happened to have been laundry day, plus, as I have mentioned- I have not been shopping in nearly 2 years, so I just ‘threw’ my outfit together. Jeans, converse, QUEEN shirt, large tote bag and 2 wrist cuffs since I don’t really wear jewelry. Hair?….let’s just say I had to get it cut off to 2 inches length 3 days ago since I had a ‘do it yourself dye’ accident…Makeup? You know….I can put makeup on girls like my roommates and really enjoy the results, but I never liked having that sticky stuff on my face. As expected, my roomates looked as if one snatched them from a fashion mag right there on the spot and I loved every bit of staring at them just like the guys across from us. They eventually slobbered their way into our conversation and literally went for my roommates without even once looking towards me, as if I were not there. I sat back and listened to the ‘look i am a rich man and you are a young pretty girl’ BS conversation from these guys while on occasion exchanging a few words in our native language with them to comment these morons who were foaming at their mouths to impress them. And then I realized, for the first time in my life, morons like these did not bother me at all anymore. They asked each one of what we do…My roommates said what their jobs were while I stared at the particular moron waiting for his insecure snout to turn towards me and at least acknowledge my existence for the sake of good manners. I caught him hesitating. He was so obviously worried that I would notice his disapproval of my appearance that he could not even look at me. LOL!!
Poor poor man. He did not look at me. I continued staring at him sitting there sweating while chewing on my hibachi steak and oh so laughing on the inside…
The club. Horror I expected. One of those clubs you cannot get into if you ain’t ‘pretty enuff’. I mean, I am pretty, alright, but not like THEY would want me to be. And the laundry day…..anyway-
I stood in line with my roommates, having a blast speaking Croatian and dogging some eager bimbo I could fold up in half and eat for breakfast who stood there in her patent leather pumps waiting for the approval of these beef heads so she’d come inside the club. When they nodded her in, I thought she was going to pee on herself.
The beef heads were scanning me, and my mismatched outfit, wrong hair, dusty converse, bag that was maybe…fashionable…..once……and I could tell by their absent faces there was no way I was going to get ‘okayed’ in had there not been for my roommates friend who happened to have a table reserved for us already. And then once we got in…Let me just sum it up- I had a wonderful time watching quite a number of people being terribly uncomfortable with themselves over having to be in a presence of (and nice to!) a girl they were ‘taught’ to avoid because of all the things about a human being that DO NOT really matter just to they could, perhaps, score it with the roommates. I have never seen so many faces crumble when I walked into a room, and not crumble because there was something truly wrong with me, but crumble because their whole value systems of other humans and themselves are so *fucked* that it makes THEM feel like crap to have to be civil to people that are out of what they think is ‘their standard’. I wish I could help them somehow.
Scary stuff.
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