A Sad Story

On Saturday night, I went out to Oberkampf for Copain's birthday. For a girl who went to college at the University of California, Santa Barbara, once named the best party school of the year, this shouldn't be surprising. Oh but it is my friends, it really, truly is.

It even brought up some going out anxiety that I can only decipher as one thing: old age.

As the week went on, I started to think about what I would wear.  In college this would be an easy decision: jeans, a going out top and some kind of platform shoe.

But that was Santa Barbara, circa 2000 and this was Paris, circa 2012. Ah crap.

Knowing that whatever I wore would probably only be used once, I went and bought something new and cheap at H&M - you know, something to get me through.  I needed an outfit that would be bar and then nightclub appropriate.  I figured the turtleneck Zara sweaters I wear to work wouldn't cut it.  Thankfully, I found a royal blue dress that didn't scream old fart, yet didn't scream American hooker either, and I snatched it up for 20 Euros.  Paired with a pair of opaque tights and some black bottines, I thought I had hit the nail on the head, that whole "not trying too  hard" look.

When we got to the bar, my old age started to rear its ugly head again - why wasn't the bartender coming and taking my order right away? Who was I going to talk to? Why were the other people in the group acting drunk? Was I the only responsible person in this place? Why was there no where to hang my coat? 

When someone ordered a pitcher of margaritas with multiple straws, all I could think of was : germs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then, when people decided to move the party to the nightclub and it started raining, I thought, hmmm, go home safely now with someone else heading towards my neck of the woods, or wait in a line in the rain to get into a club? 

Even though it was Copain's birthday and I was the copine, I peaced out, just like an old fart would. How depressing is that? I can see it now: Santa Barbara party girl gets old, leaves Copain at his own party.

Now there's a sad story for you.


  1. Sounds familiar to me... Maybe it's time to start thinking of having a baby... ;-)
    The worst, at 37, is that you do all that you've described here, but you also bug your "Copain" with it: awful!

    PS: I've been writing those caracters bellow "to prove that I'm not a robot" 5 times and got them all wrong each time, arrrh, isn't it super annoying the way they do it now??!! (Or I am that old that my eyes are getting bad?...)
    I'm trying again :)

  2. Hahaha! Funny you say that - as I was getting ready I thought about all of my friends with kids and how they would be staying in. I wished I was them! Also - the robot characters - always takes me at least three tries! Bah!


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