Friendly fire

I had been looking forward to getting away for the night for weeks, my friend SB had a comped room at Harrah's in AC, (we call it hurrahs) for a Friday night. We were leaving right after work, as soon as I switched my new phone's sim card with my old one so my sister could (finally!!) have a reliable source of communication while driving all the way to and from Vermont.

After a quick tutorial on how to use my phone, I threw some party clothes, shoes, jewelry and makeup into an overnight bag, just in time, too, because SB was ringing the bell as I was zipping it up. Hugging my sister goodbye, running out the door, hopping into the car and blasting out of my neighborhood and my routine, I felt about 16 years old.

The ride went so fast, the two of us gabbing away, mostly about her stuff, it is all about SB, as you know. I can abide that for a certain amount of time, she just likes to talk more than I do, and I'm a better listener. I did get a chance to throw a story in about something I had gone through during the week, to which her response was, I'm going to be there soon, myself. All about her.

We got to our lovely room and changed, spritzed, made up blinged up, admired our beauty and downstairs we went. After telling the bartender how we wanted our French martinis made, he showingly poured two cocktail shakers at once, added our Chambourd and wowsa. Biggest martini I've ever seen or drunk!!! After 4 sips, I could feel the glow coming over me, and SB and I relaxed into the music and the scene. Just as she was saying what a huge mistake the last year had been, referring to her relationship with a married man, that had ended, predictably with his NOT leaving his wife, who walks over to us. I am stunned, and so disappointed as HE (the married man, of course) appears in front of us. As is SB, or so she says, I think it was just a tad too coincidental. The night progresses, mostly with me sitting alone while SB dances, flirts, kisses her paramore,  and basically tries to occasionally throw me a bone by saying, "let's go to the Borgata", "let's get away from him" "this is a mistake".  Of course that doesn't happen. Till suddenly, she is snapping, we're leaving, let's go and storms off, clearly furious with said paramore. I follow her and we agree to go back to the room after she tearfully sobs why is he doing this to me, blah blah blah. We're just about to get on the elevator, when, oops, SB can't find her phone. "We have to go back to the bar and find it." And we do, go back to the bar that is, oh, and find Mr. Notsowonderful, and doesn't SB forget all about her phone, and sit down and start fighting with him all over again. "I'm going to the room, SB." Barely nodding an acknowledgement, I know this is the last I'll be seeing her for the night. I get to the room and immediately order room service for myself, a compensation for a boring, disappointing night. I decide to let SB pay for it on her room bill.

The next morning, no SB in the other bed, so I try her phone. Low and behold, she has miraculously found it. "I'm so sorry, are you mad at me?" "SB, what are you 5?" "You should be...I'm getting you coffee." Ok, I say, great, bring splenda. "Is it ok if he comes with me?"

Are you kidding me? What am I supposed to say, No?

"Of course."

The guilty parties arrive bearing mea culpas of coffee and breakfast sandwiches, and we all have a good laugh, finally leaving after two hours of bizarro world conversation.

I get home and think to myself, self I says, what is it about the people in your life? why are you always the one making concessions and doing the listening and fixing?

Something is way wrong with this picture. It's time for a new paintbrush.