Note: I put the finishing touches on this post on Sunday, because I knew I would be spending all of Marathon Monday day drinking along the marathon route (just past mile 24), and most of Tuesday recovering. After the terrible events that happened here on Monday, I thought about taking out my reference to how a lot of Bostonians celebrate what is typically the best day of the year in Boston. But I ultimately decided to leave it as written. Because it should have been like any other Marathon Monday – tens of thousands of runners celebrating an impressive personal accomplishment, while the rest of us lazy bums reveled in the successes of total strangers and our good fortune in having a paid day off while the rest of the nation is at work/school. It’s a delightful local holiday, officially called Patriots’ Day. An institution in Boston. A day full of cheering on the runners and parties and barbeques and happiness and unity. It should not have turned into something dark, confusing, and incredibly sad. Still, in the midst of all that tragedy, there was so much good. So many helping hands. So it’s a very small stand that I’m taking, but I’m leaving it in for the way it was supposed to be.
Last week S gave us all a glimpse of her pre-date rituals (inspired by Brunch for Every Meal). Over the long weekend here in MA, I took a break from my busy schedule of Veronica Mars viewing (specifically, this scene on repeat – Logan is so tortured and hot, it gets me every time) and Marathon Mondaying (my 10th Marathon Monday – god it’s the best day!!), to shed some light on how I get ready for a date. Spoiler alert: my version involves less preparation, and yet, more tardiness.
7:50 am: Wake up 20 minutes earlier than usual with the intention of using that time to pick out a cute outfit and consider wearing makeup. Immediately decide against wearing makeup because I’d have to do it myself and that has only ever ended with me looking like a drag queen. (If you see me in real life with makeup on there is a 100% chance that 1] I’m in the company of S (and mutual friend, other S) and they sat me down and prettied me up; or 2] I’m a bridesmaid in a wedding and a professional make-up artist was involved). Actually use those extra 20 minutes to leisurely eat a bowl of Special K with red berries and make disapproving faces at Matt Lauer and/or Willie Geist (Matt Lauer for being Matt Lauer and Willie Geist for snubbing me that one time I was a “guest” on the Today Show**). This is different from my normal routine in that I usually wake up with exactly enough time to shower and get dressed, so I don’t have time to eat anything in my apartment or turn the tv on. Instead, I eat an apple or banana in the car while making disapproving faces at everyone else on the road and listening to Mattie in the Morning because everyone on that show is mean to each other and that’s what mornings are for.
8:10 am: Shower and hastily blow-dry my hair in an attempt to make it look as good as it does when my sister or friend J does it. I’m generally 78% successful at achieving this.
8:30 am: Quickly pick out a dress or top/skirt that is both work appropriate and can be transitioned into dinner/drinks with a cute scarf/cardigan/jewelry/shoes, and leave for work.
6:15 pm: Consider leaving work to stop at home and grab something to eat. Disregard that thought because if I go home I will lay down on my couch to “rest up and refresh my energy before the date” and end up taking a 4 hour nap.
6:20 pm: Eat a handful of animal crackers from the bear jar sitting on the bookshelf in my office and make a packet of instant oatmeal from the stockpile that I amassed when everything at the local grocery story was 70% off because the store was going out of business and EVERYTHING MUST GO! (that was back in like, October – I bought an astounding amount of oatmeal).
7:05 pm: Use my typically flawed logic when it comes to timing to calculate that since the bar is (more often than not) in Davis Square which is past my apartment, and it takes me 12-15 minutes to get home and 5 minutes to get from my apartment to basically anywhere, I should start packing up.
7:28 pm: Face the reality for the 4,293,194th time that even in my car, almost nothing is actually 5 minutes from my apartment and I’m probably going to be late.
7:35 pm: Park 2 ½ blocks from the bar/restaurant because I’m cheap and would rather park on a resident only street for free than pay the $0.50 for a metered spot (stupid 8 p.m. meters). Also, the last time I parked in a metered spot it was simultaneously a poorly marked handicapped spot and I got a $100 ticket. SOOO, yeah.
7:40 pm: Waltz in, start a slow-clap for myself for only being 10 minutes late and not the typical 15-20, act like my propensity for arriving late to everything is an endearing quality and not the character flaw that it really is, and hope that this blasé attitude towards tardiness rubs off on my date.
**I use the term “guest” loosely. My mom and I were really just handlers, because the real guests were two of my parents’ dogs (they are legitimate rock stars) and the other families that Stupid Willie Geist actually spoke to instead of stood in front of. Fuck him.
P.S. I know that being late is rude, I do. And it may not seem like it, but I genuinely try to be on time for things because I’m aware of my delinquent ways. I just rarely succeed. Like I said – character flaw.