I just realized I have no social life
— compared to my contemporaries. But that’s ok. For now.
The best part of my incredibly boring evening of sitting around for four hours in case a baby woke up was not the part where I read aloud an essay in Harpers on “American Exceptionalism” but rather the 2-mile walk home, blasting the Run Lola techno soundtrack on iPood at 11p down the looooong hallway of the MIT building (the “infinite corridor”) while making conspicuous eye contact with all the boy scientists in an effort to determine if they were really MIT students or just jacks like me, taking a warm indoor shortcut to or from Mass Ave.
The part where I realized I have no social life was when I walked past throngs of hip 20- and 30-somethings standing in the outdoor line to get into that new club, whatsitcalled, Middlesex Lounge (where I went only once, on a reconciliation mission to say hello to G., only to turn around after getting there and realizing he wasn’t spinning that night). So I walked past them tonight and they all stared. At first I thought they were staring because they thought: “Why is that 20-something with the really cool jacket walking alone instead of coming into this hip club? She must be super lame.” Then I figured they might be staring because they were thinking: “Wow, that’s a really cool jacket.” Then it occured to me they were probably staring because I was walking in time with my music, which was Franka Potente’s fast-tempo’d techno single, meaning I was walking incredibly fast.
What can I say? I’m incredibly fast.
Fast as in The Autobahn.
Ha!
***On Edit***
Babysitting 5+ nights a week doesn’t make me entirely lame, ok? It just means I cram a week’s worth of socializing into one day & evening, which will be tomorrow’s brunch, party, other party, & show. And whatever, dude. I still wear miniskirts. You saw the photo.
***On 2nd Edit***
Why am I being so defensive? I think the excessive childcare is getting to me. There is a limit to the amount of hours you can spend being jumped on, wiping up cracker crumbs and peeling small dirty underwear off the floor. I’m really nearing that limit.
***On 3rd Edit***
Props to Nayiri for the hallway photo link.