Monday Mimisms ~ Wardrobe Malfunctions and Scotch

It could only happen to me.

We were at the theater Saturday night standing in the lobby waiting to enter. He looked around and said, "Ummm...I think we might be overdressed."
He had a point. That is until one of the ushers walked across what seemed like miles of carpet straight to me and whispered, "You need to go to the bathroom. There's white paper on the heel of your shoe."
There I stood on a red carpet in a red dress with a red face.
What????!!!!
I looked down. He looked down. All God's children looked down.  

Thank the Baby Jesus it was writing paper instead of the other kind, my Bloggy People. We'd walked a mile from the parking garage. Only I could be fortunate enough to use my shoe for a litter grabber, but there it was, wrapped in a circle around the heel of strappy sparkly overdressed black heels. I dutifully walked the three miles across the entire lobby of fascinated starers who were obviously wondering, What did she say to her? What is wrong with that woman? Are they throwing her out? Is her dress unzipped? Is her hem falling out?  What???! with Mr. Handsome looking lonesome and bemused as I slinked away to unpaper myself. 

Enter latrine. Untangle paper. Wash hands. Readjust. Stop blushing. Heavy sigh. Check once again.  Re-enter lobby. Crossing the Sahara Desert in a red parka couldn't have been more conspicuous.  Here comes that lady again with the embarrassing wardrobe malfunction. She is saying something to the man holding her program. Are they leaving? What? What????!!!

I whispered, "There's a man to our right wearing a cowboy hat, a couple wearing sloppy jeans to a formal play and a greasy popcorn vendor to our left,  but it is apparently inappropriate for me to enter the theater with paper on my shoe. The nerve!" 

Man laughs. People whisper. I am scarred for life secretly thinking oh-what-a-great-blog-post.   

 

 I wish paper on the shoe had been the only glitch that night but it wasn't. 

 Somewhere in the middle of a late night coffee-less Coffee Shop conversation (that's another story) on a downtown historic district street of college kids and wireless cafes, we had more important things to hash out.  I painfully click-clacked my paperless heels 'round three blocks of concrete sidewalk and crossed the street at the light. "Are we jaywalking?" he asked. "I hope not because I'm following your lead," I said, running now across cobblestone walkways, down stairs and around corners to a dark dark parking lot to the car of doomed conversations.

 


"Call me when you get home," he said. I need to know you got home OK." 
But I knew when he shut the door that I would never see him again. And that I would call him one last time. As kind and generous as he could be - and he was - there is no substitute I'm willing to accept for intolerance wrapped up in sophisticated slivers of ingrained deceit which spilled off the tongue of the man I had high hopes for. I don't think he even knew how much he unknowingly gave away between the sips and streetlights.  But that's what happens when your guard is down and you've been in the presence of philosophy and art and the Scotch is flowing. One says too much and you know you know you know that one such outwardly beautiful man is a man you could never follow anywhere.
A friend said to me later, "Inside the prettiest wrapping you will often find the most tart and sour and inedible candy." Indeed.


Act Two
Open the curtain.
I do have a red dress.
And I know how to use it.
 





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