Cinderella 20-Something

“Geez; you’ve had a couple crazy and irresponsible weekends lately,” Baby Daddy said when I told him what I’d been up to last Thursday night when I went out without him. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, believe me,” I answered. “I’m way toned down compared to what I used to be. I used to pull this kind of sh*t every weekend.”

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Last Thursday (I know I’m behind), before the hooplah and festivities of the Fourth and camping on Saturday and Sunday, I needed a girl’s night. Bad. I rounded up my college girlfriend, those who she planned to hang out with for the night, and Amanda. We all planned to head for the good ole Herpes Triangle—Peso’s and Ozzies, minus the Chopstix. Unfortunately, when we arrived we realized that a lot of people not working on a Friday = a lot of people going out. Which of course equals lines around the block at both bars. Blech.

We patiently waited before allowing access to the hords of drunk people stuffed into every nook and cranny of Peso’s, which provides for quite the uncomfortable atmosphere on a hot and sticky night. While waiting in line, I spotted a familiar face—my hot wedding date from one of my best friend’s wedding last spring. It seems my old flames keep popping up these days (I still have a story of a recent encounter with the Bearded Lover, waiting in the wings.)

There’s only one word that I can associate with my hot wedding date—TEMPTATION.

Luckily (or unfortunately), I was feeling a little sassy and cute in new top, which made my boobs look fake, they were so pushed up, black capris, and my most favorite pair of kelly-green, patent-leather heels that I bought for $30 last summer at a clothing boutique on lower Queen Anne. Read: Irreplaceable.

Hot Wedding Date moved back from L.A. and was conveniently living in a spare bedroom with my best married friend. Shit balls. Why is timing always so off? I would have killed for him to live here when we had a little steamy fling last year.

But, now I have a very attentive, romantic and adorable boyfriend at home in bed, with all his faith and trust in me. We’ve been dating for eight months now. I’ve only had a handful of temptations—mostly because I don’t put myself in as many situations as I did when I was single—but let me tell you, temptation is HARD, and it hasn’t gotten any easier. How terrible is it to admit that I had to keep running through my head, “You have a boyfriend 20-Something. You have a boyfriend 20-Something.”

I find it nearly impossible to pass up a very good-looking boy, who is very flirtatious and forward. And, if memory serves me right, is pretty talented. (Whoopsie. Did I write that).

So, here we are, drinking it up in my neighborhood. Amanda and I just went to the bar and ordered two drinks to last us through waiting in line again. Just as we pushed our way back to the crowd, we heard:

“We have to go now! Everyone’s leaving for the boat. Come on! Finish your drinks…”

Boat? What boat? It’s nearly 2 a.m.; I’m buzzed, and I’m SO going to a boat to continue the night.

We sucked down both our drinks, set them down on the table and jumped in cabs, following my best married friend and my Hot Wedding Date to the “boat.”

We arrived at Lake Union and walked down the dock to the “boat”—what they really meant was 85-foot, three story mansion floating on the water, masquerading as a yacht. Holy balls. I’ve never been on a yacht before, but my question is—who can afford those things? It was five bedrooms and one large wrap-around patio, with FOUR huge stainless-steel drawers in the kitchen, stalked with beer, wine and mixers.

T-R-O-U-B-L-E

Anyhoo, so I stepped one foot off the dock to step onto the back of the boat, and there goes my beautiful kelly-green, patent-leather heel into the water.

And what does it do?

The mother f*cker sinks. Straight to the bottom of Lake Union.

I could have died.

I only had once thing left to do—hobble around with one shoe on, or kiss both of them goodbye. I reluctantly took off the other, and bebopped around the boat in bare feet.

Which of course, is how I decided to venture home after dancing, partying and sinning till around 3:30 a.m. Because my partner in crime wasn’t ready to go, I left alone, thinking I could catch a cab. I'll show you TEMPTATION!

Trouble is, I didn’t have a cell phone. So, when no cabs drove past me, I was forced into walking home—barefoot—from Lake Union.

Yes. I know it’s stupid and unsafe. But karma had already taken my favorite kelly-green, patent-leather shoe, so I figured I was okay.

I’m really glad I decided to leave before karma whisked my shirt right off me too.

Cause that really would have been unsafe—shirt- and shoe-less, walking three miles home.

Then how could I have stopped at 7-Eleven for snacks?!

Currently Feeling: Ready for the weekend!
Currently Anticipating: Sunshine, boats, kegs and besties
Currently Loving: Curry. Mmm. Curried fish. Mmmm Mmm.