You get to a certain age, and suddenly you’re constantly in wedding season. A few years ago I had 3 weddings, 1 bridal shower, an engagement party and 2 1-year-old birthdays to attend… all in 1 year! Talk about exhausting. Not necessarily because of how very audibly I heard my credit card say, “Phew!” as I bought gift after gift, after outfit, after Hotel overnight stays, after flight reservations. The episode of Sex and the City where Carrie registers herself at Manolo Blahnik for choosing to be single has never spoken so clearly to me. But this post isn’t about the financial aid that I would like to attain to celebrate the life stages of other people’s lives. It’s about how these life events for other people make you look over your own board game of Life. If only I roll a 7, then I’ll meet the man of my dreams soon. If I roll a 5, I’ll get a parking ticket that I’ll forget to pay and will somehow result in getting my car towed and end up in the ER with a broken leg. I hate comparing my life steps to others, but unfortunately it tends to happen from time to time.
This past weekend was OystaFingas’ wedding in Houston. So my girlfriends and I couldn’t resist to make this a girl’s trip. No significant others were allowed. At least that’s what we wanted. Unfortunately Sizzler and Carl couldn’t make it due to an engagement party and family being in town. Although it didn’t seem right that our sextet couldn’t all be together for this beautiful event, we made all made the promises of taking too many pictures, constant IG posts, and Snaps so they wouldn’t feel too FOMO.
Now, I should mention that OystaFingas is about 10 years younger than me. I’ve always had a very age diverse group of friends ranging from 15 years older to around 10 years younger. I love the variance of ideas, thoughts and life experiences. Needlessness to say, this means that all of her friends at the wedding will all be of her similar age range. Not necessarily how young I like to play around with, but we’re all the same age lying down, right? Anyway, this is the first time that I’ve had the opportunity to go to a wedding while I’ve been single, so I’m excited for what’s to come. I’ve always been curious to see why so many hook-ups happen during weddings, and if I would also be able to partake in the mating ritual.
What is it about weddings that makes everyone so easy? Even my parents met at a wedding. I mean, I guess it worked for them. They’re about to celebrate their 40th Wedding Anniversary. Maybe it’s all the “LOVE” that’s in the air. But I think it’s also the fact that when these life stages occur, everyone takes a look at their own board game of Life and see how they are faring in comparison to their friends. Here’s my recap, in case you forgot: I just ended my 4 1/2 year relationship that broke down because I wanted a wedding, marriage, 2.5 kids, a dog and Mrs. Buttersworth. My dream was #whiteboy’s nightmare. And the only real prospect I am having is Rebound Babe, in which my emotions are starting to develop pretty quickly for him. I feel like I need to take a step back. So yes, I’m in a different city. I’m single. I’m going to a wedding. Let’s play!
After our flight lands in Houston, J9 and I hop into an Uber to meet DD and her sister at a restaurant. Of course the first thing I do, is pull out my phone and open Tinder. I’m excited to see what Houston has to offer, since the last time I visited, #whiteboy and I were thinking of moving here. And just like that, the quick left and right swipes begin. I’ve also created a game with it, where I let my GF’s do the swiping and sometimes even let them handle the actual conversations with these boys. It’s fun to me, kinda like they’re playing match maker to a bunch of boys that they think I should date. Like the old days when friends actually used to introduce people to their friends.
A few hours go by and we’re wrapping up our first meal and 2 cocktails at a restaurant. And suddenly I feel a quick vibrate, and a flame pops up on my notification bar. I thumb down the notification bar, and notice it says, “You’ve been Super Liked! Swipe to find out by whom.” For those of you who are unaware of how Tinder works, here’s the quick breakdown. A picture of Homie-Lover-Friend is displayed; if you don’t like him/her you swipe left; if you do like him/her then you swipe right. You’re only allowed to communicate with someone if you both happen to swipe right. However, with a “Super Like” you allow the other person to let them know that you are interested without them also swiping right on you. And there you go, swipe right enough times, look cute enough, and WALA…. one night stand. Maybe. Anyway, so of course, I was excited to see who this mystery person could be. I open the app and take a glance. Ew. Is all I can think. Close down the app, and commence convo with my babes.
En route to the hotel, I get a few more buzz-buzz notifications, and they are all Super Likes! This is amazing! I don’t think I’ve ever had this much attention back home. If I’m fairly active on Tinder, then I get MAYBE 1 Super Like a week. But within an hours time, I think I’ve received about 5. I squeal to my GF’s about the amount of action that I’m receiving. Unfortunately, every single one of them is gross. So there’s no way that I would swipe right. But it’s still exciting to see them all come through. Self Confidence has boosted and my Ego is now through the roof.
The weekend continues as do the Super Likes of which only a handful warrant a response. We decide to run an experiment and respond with just, “Tryna Fuck?” to see how many respond back. And little to our surprise everyone responds back with, “Yes! Where and When?” I of course don’t want to do this dirty deed with any of these men, but it’s still fun to play.
As we are shuttled to the Church for OystaFingas’ ceremony, J9 and I are bored so we pull out Tinder and begin our usual game. Not a whole lot of prospects, but one pops out. Damn, he looks pretty goddamn sexy. He has that ethnic, dark, beard, handsome thing going for him. And just-kinda-barely he reminds me of Jason Mamoa. My ultimate husband, fantasy, masturbation guy. So of course, I swipe right, hoping for a connection. The ceremony turns to the reception and my GFs and I make our rounds. And just to my initial prediction, all the boys here are right around 25 and under. Not usually that big of a deal, but 25 AND not really attractive. No thanks. So while I’m waiting for my dinner course to arrive, I open up Tinder and notice a few more Super-Likes, but also notice that Jason Mamoa 2.0 and I have matched! Pitter-pat of a heart beat begins, and I’m excited for this connection. We begin to chat and eventually make plans for a late night rendezvous.
As the clock approaches midnight, Jason Mamoa 2.0 sends me a message to see if I’m still game to meet. Duh! I dash to the room to change out of my evening gown and into some jeans. Holy shit… the butterflies followed me from LA to Houston! My nerves are going haywire and these wings can no longer be taped down with additional shots of tequila. Quick text to my girls and I tell them to get to the room ASAP. DD barges in the door to see what’s wrong… and I tell her that I’m going to meet Jason Mamoa. I wish I could remember half of what she was telling me, but I’m about a million cocktails deep and nervous as fuck. Am I really about to try to have a one night stand in a strange city? DD practically kicks my ass into gear and gets me out the door.
The usual shit bounces around in my head as I get closer to the bar. I send out the address to where I’m going so my GFs know where to start the body hunt. I walk slowly around the bar, and don’t notice my tall sexy giant anywhere. I walk to the outdoor patio, and walk around some more. Still no signs of my baby. I try to do another loop, and still don’t seem to notice him any where. The insecurities start to develop, and all I can think is, “Great, he saw me, and thought gross.” Then I get a *knock-knock* notification and it’s my Love saying, I’m in the back patio. So I walk over and see the same guy I walked past 2 times prior. This is NOT my baby. OMG. What happened to fantasy that I was playing over and over in my head? I was hoping he was going to be able to carry me across the room, and slam me up against a wall and just start making out with me. But instead, here is. Jason Mamoa -2.0. EW. He’s smoking a cigarette, relatively short and skinny, and has an incredibly thick Curry accent as he tells me briefly about his day. I don’t know where this came from, but the loud speaker in my head is blaring out, “ABORT! ABORT! ABORT!”
The only thing I can think to say is,”I’m sorry, I really have to use the restroom. Do you mind?” Luckily there’s a long enough line at the Ladies Room, and a few girls who are all chit-chatting with their GFs. I interrupt one group quickly, and say, “Excuse me girls, I really need some help.” I explain to them my situation and I remember telling them, “He looks EWWIEE!!” Who says that word? Apparently drunk Mo does. “What do I do?????” I ask them. And in unison, all the girls say, “LEAVE!” I dash out the door and run around the first little corner I could find and quickly pull up Uber to take me back to the wedding.
So much for my spontaneous weekend getaway to get laid. I’m really hoping that I don’t start creating bad dating ju-ju for myself with all the antics I’ve been up to lately. I get back to the wedding, and it’s now moved from the ballroom to the hotel lobby bar. As I walk in, the girls and some of the guys who knew what I was doing yell out, “Heeeeey!!!!! How did it go???!??” Considering I was only gone 40 minutes, there obviously wasn’t much time to do much of anything except for leave my self-respect at the bar.
The next morning as I look for good barbecue restaurants to try, I check Tinder one more time. And notice a few more Super Likes have popped up so I decide to start screenshot their images. Here’s just a few of the ones that I was able to capture in about 24 hours time. I hope you enjoy the photos, as I will never be able to fulfill my Jason Mamoa fantasy.