Of course, the whole boyfriend meets the best friend thing really would be more monumental if Holly and I saw each other more than a few times a year and were capable of doing anything but chattering at each other 150 million words per second in an unintelligible spew of inside jokes. Inside jokes which, God love us, we do try to explain, but when you're talking at 150 million words per second it can still be pretty confusing.
After dinner with Mr. RB (at Central BBQ, the very first patio in Project: Patio, blog post coming soon) we hit up the local for a drink (that'd be patio numero dos) and then headed home to get into our jammies and watch Sandra Bullock adopt an underprivileged kid in The Blind Side. And we loved every second of it and we boo-hooed over our Muddy's cupcakes and then, y'all, we made a huge mistake. We looked at Michael Oher's Wikipedia page. Have you ever seen a picture of a radio DJ and wished you hadn't? Same thing. The truth was a little bit uglier than we'd imagined.
On Saturday we headed to the Stax Museum, one of my all-time favorite Memphis spots, and danced and sang our way through soul music history. And then, while stopped at a light on the way home, a group of pre-pubescent boys on the corner started cat calling us. And unlike the gentleman later down the road who hollered into our open windows, "I love you baby," they took a more direct route at getting our attention and yelled, "Hey white girl!"
After lunch at the Beauty Shop, we headed to Target to procure goodies for Easter baskets for our respective significant others. Easter baskets, of course, with tiny bottles of booze. (And maybe dainty underthings.)
We spent our afternoon downtown, bopping around South Main and Beale and gawking at houses in Harbortown.
That evening we dined at Huey's with Stef before getting cute and heading to Mollie Fontaine's for a drink. We ended up gettin' real good and drunk on Saturday night, and I'll tell you why in a moment. First I need to tell you that we ran into Mr. October at Mollie Fontaine's. I walked into an upstairs room and saw him and I made no attempts at covering my mouth when I turned to Holly and said OH MY GOD and probably even pointed. With both hands. And runway flares. It really wasn't so dramatic except this was the first time I'd seen him since our Hindenburg of Awkward, and Holly was there to witness it and to see him in person for her very own self. It felt like we were in a museum of my dating failures for a minute there. No tapping the glass, please.
We ended up quasi-following him back downstairs (because we wanted to perch around the piano with our friends the gays), but we didn't talk. Probably because he knew the conversation would end up on the blog. Aha, Mr. October! We don't even have to exchange words and you're making an appearance. EVIL GENIUS.
After we left Mollie's we stopped at the Mapco for some tall boys of Bud Light and assorted treats (MoonPie, mmm) because we had made plans earlier in the evening to do it real Memphis style. Which meant take off our bras and drink on the front porch.
Before dinner, we'd been Facebook stalking. And I finally remembered to ask Holly to try looking for Boyfriend No. 4. Because I'd looked for him not that long ago and was under the impression he'd left Facebook. He wasn't listed anywhere, at all. And I think somewhere, I suspected I knew what had happened. And when Holly plugged his name in the search bar it was confirmed. He'd blocked me. But as soon as we clicked on his profile picture we knew why.
He proposed to his girlfriend. On Valentine's Day. In New York.
And y'all, I don't want to be married to him. I don't. He was a controlling jerk who treated me like garbage and called me names and made me cry. And cry. And CRY, sniffle, snort, snob, snotty cry. No thank you. But it doesn't make that any easier to see. And so, we got ourselves real good and drunk that night.
And as we were real good and drunk, we proceeded to write on the Facebook walls of just about everyone we could think of. Mostly in all caps. Mostly with no punctuation.
And then, in celebration of how we'd spent our evening, I changed my facebook status to the following:
cheers,
elizabeth
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