Back in the early 80’s I was a very different person. Almost immediately after the ink dried on divorce #1, I was ready to broaden my horizons (there’s that stupid phrase again) and start hanging out. The “quest for man” had begun.
Luckily, my mom and dad and my sister lived nearby, and they were good and kind people and they allowed me to drop my children off and hit the street once in a while. (no – that wasn’t me begging and pleading to get out just ONE night mom, just one night…)
On one of those once in a while dates I went above and beyond my regular beauty regimine and splurged on everything. I was determined to find a new man and the bouncy hair, fresh nails, new outfit and blue suede stilettos (with matching clutch) were all part of my ammunition in the fight for a cute guy with no Jheri curl and all other items on my list.
My prerequisites back then were crazy – tall, well built, great teeth, good nails, great job, funny, very smart, no children (despite the fact that I had 2 of my own), nice apartment or house, disposable income, well educated, very well read, great dancer, nice dresser, compatable astrological sign, close to his family but not dependant on them, not too churchy but spiritual, non Brut wearing, hard worker, street saavy, great kisser, outstanding lover, generous personality, well spoken, well travelled, sports enthusiast… my list went on for days.
The “me” back then would have missed out on the wonderful relationship I have with Adrian. Thank goodness I let go of the unimportant crap and chose the one who is best for me.
Okay, back to the tale:
After almost a whole day of preparation, I was ready to roll. Do you guys remember the old bouncy Oprah hairdo? Me.
Remember the high maintenance 80’s look? Me.
Remember the unbelievable clouds of perfume we wore back then? Me.
My girlfriends picked me up last that night and I’m sure that the cabdriver was amused by what I had to say.
“Look at me! I KNOW that I’m going to meet the man of my dreams tonight, girls, how can he resist?”
This ridiculous (but ignorantly sincere) statement was met with silence. My friends weren’t in the mood to play along with Jali.
I talked smack for the whole ride to the club. I preened in my seat, tossed my hair repeatedly and crossed and recrossed my legs. I really believed my own hype.
As we pulled up, I reapplied my magenta lipstick (with matching gloss) and shook out my hair for full effect.
“Come the fuck on!” My girl Felicia was getting a bit tired of my performance. I have to admit that I really didn’t need to flirt with the cabdriver just to practice my skills, but his reaction gave me the extra “oomph” I wanted.
Remember the “Charlie’s Angel’s” or “Charlie perfume commercial” walk? Me again. (what a pretentious phoney idiot I was).
As soon as we found a table, a drop dead gorgeous man came over to me. OMG – he was sexy as hell, tall, dark and handsome.
“What are you drinking?” His voice was even sexier than his look.
I wasn’t a regular drinker back then, but I had heard of this new concoction called a Long Island Iced Tea and decided to win the man by ordering as a sophisticated woman would. I told him what I wanted and smiled.
I batted my eyes and watched him as he sauntered over to the bar to get my drink. As soon as he was out of earshot I started talking pure smack again.
“See – I TOLD you that I would be irrisistable tonight. The finest man in the place is buying ME a drink.”
Cutie pie promptly returned to the table, placed my drink in front of me and said:
wait for it…
“That’ll be $7.00 miss.”
Yes, my admirer was the waiter. I don’t understand why he didn’t ask my girlfriends what they wanted to drink.
To this day if I talk to either one of my girls on the phone they find a way to ask me if I’d like a Long Island Iced Tea. It wasn’t funny then and it isn’t funny now.