Party Pooped

Published December 19, 2016 by WELCOME TO HEIDI

“No wonder you don’t have a man”, were the horrific words said to me through an actual smile this past Saturday night. I had just entered a holiday party and had been there for less than three minutes before I was fully frontally assaulted by a hug and these seven words. My coat had barely left my shoulders when WHABAM! shot to the girly heart. Apparently I hadn’t hugged him fast enough or well enough.  Whatever it was – it was an epic hug fail that somehow suggested I did not like men.  I do like men. Now you may or may not know me but I’m still sure you’ll be shocked to hear – I did not immediately punch this person square in the “shut the fuck up you moron” face. But it was a beautiful elegant party and so I let it slide. I also liked this person. But quite frankly, I was flabbergasted. That’s kind of a big thought bomb to just drop on a person before they’ve even had a Swedish meatball or a slice of freshly cooked spiral ham.

Now anything can happen at a pre Christmas party because when the holiday drinks are flowing the assholes are showing. Now I’m not saying this person is an asshole but lets keep it real – that’s a fucking horrible thing to say to a woman. It’s also something you NEVER hear said to a man. I don’t even understand the sentiment. And don’t tell me you were kidding because those words should be outlawed. The words “I’m kidding” said together at once actually mean – I’m telling you the gods honest truth as I believe it. Also what’s going to be so much better in my life if I do have a man? Will I be smarter? Will I be prettier? Will my career take off in a whole new direction? Will I never have to diet again? Will I own my own home? (I DO!!) What exactly am I going to gain from this hookup that I just have to have? Now maybe I’m wrong and everything will be better with penis and as soon as it happens I’m gonna call all y’all. But until then, I’m going to tell you for the last time why I’m single. BECAUSE I WANT TO BE. I may be 56 years old but I can still walk this vagina outside – yell FREE PUSSY and manage to scrounge up a dick or two willing to take me out for pizza and a cold brew. I’m pretty sure if I expressed interest in someone and attempted to start a dating life – it wouldn’t be that difficult. I’m a goddamn fucking delight. So, why have I chosen to be single? I’m not completely sure. Perhaps I like not fighting with someone or not sharing my bed or not watching sports. Not a clue. But how about we let me deal with that.

The holiday party can be a tricky thing to maneuver when you’re me. I don’t drink and I’m a bitch. Well – I call it honesty – but everyone else calls it bitch. I’ve learned to be fine with that. I’m going to accept the word bitch because no one can think of anything else to call me when I blast a little honesty their way. Fuck it. I’m a bitch. But if you try to take me down again over a bacon wrapped bite sized quiche – you’re going to lose – because I’m not lubed up with liquor and I have a tongue that will slice you to ribbons. Just because you got a bug in your egg nog about something you’ve decided you want to tell me right now – doesn’t mean you should say it and it certainly doesn’t mean I should hear it.

As for the party – I had an amazing time. It was the best party of the year filled with friends and family and wondrous food and conversation. But I wouldn’t mind if the rest of you found your pause buttons before 2017. How about you do you – and I’ll do me.

6 comments on “Party Pooped

  • Leave a Reply

    Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

    WordPress.com Logo

    You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

    Google photo

    You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

    Twitter picture

    You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

    Facebook photo

    You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

    Connecting to %s

    This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

    %d bloggers like this: