So here it goes AGAIN.

This is what happened on my ill-fated “this is not a set-up date, just a meeting with friends so will you for the Love of Fred adjust your attitude Ann, and let me do your make-up.” These words actually came out of the mouth of one of my oldest and dearest friends.  She has a boyfriend. His name is Dave and he’s Helena’s older brother.  I don’t this should count because Mac did not have to go out and hunt and gather, but I have no room to complain, literally, since she shoved me in a tiny bathroom in order to plaster my face with various war paints and unguents in an effort t0 create a show room model of me.

I didn’t think it looked all that bad, I was kind of afraid to move my face too much. So after a complete make-over, Dave and Mac and I went to a coffee bar to hear some live music.  So far, not a bad plan.  Any place with the coffee might be okay.  Except I think the entire meld of baristas were stoned, at least no one seemed to be in a big quick hurry to fetch my tasty cinnamon latte. What I got was a decaf cappucino with soy.  Quelle Horror.  It tasted like warm beer foam. I did not spit it out, I didn’t want to make a bad impression.  Mach and David picked out a table where we could see and be seen.  We were seen by a few class mates or other chum types who acted as if they always hang out here on a Saturday night.  That might have gone okay except the conversation drifted to a discussion of what girls wear being the primary way they communicate with what they want their date to consider doing for the evening.  I quickly saw this in to becoming a recipe for disaster since if this shmoe started a “OF Course she was asking for it, look at the way she was dressed.” Then of course I would be forced to leap over the table and give the boy a steamie at the espresso  machine.  Fortunately, it did not drift that far in to the conversation.  Mac handled that by making an end run around the whole topic and mentioning that my mother was a professor. That was an uncomfortable but less dangerous topic.  Things went like this for the hour or so that we were there.  I guess the whole reason I was trussed up in a kicky and casual outfit and more Make-Up than Ru Paul was to show the Troglodytes that attend my college that I am indeed on the market.  I didn’t have much hope.

The day after the coffee debacle, the scruffy musician type who we came to hear told David that he thought I was cute and inquired if I would be back to see him again.  I may go this weekend.  I would like to  wear my own face this time.