Single in the City: A Tale of Two Parties

A Tale of Two Parties – No slime, no sleaze and a bootleg BBQ

I took a long look at the invite that read, “fashion, fashion, fashion”, wondering what to wear, or really what not to wear. I decided that a royal blue, super-mini fitted dress, paired with black patent heels was the way forward. With that, I jumped into a cab on a crisp Tuesday summer night and cruised down FDR. The time was 9:15pm, and I was En route to a birthday party in honor of a dear friend, who also happens to own an up-and-coming on-line designer clothing boutique. I arrived somewhere on the lower east side, at a bohemian-meets-alternative lounge – a very cool scene. In keeping with my modus operandi, I was of course, fashionably late. I glided in hoping to meet some wrapable cuties; instead, I was greeted rich soulful tunes –  a refined mix of soul and old Hollywood.  And so, I gently lulled to the tune of his acoustic guitar and watched him belt out unfamiliar soul from his well tuned vocal chords. This red-headed crooner had me serenaded in a heartbeat…

Later, with no interesting prospects or wrapable cuties for that matter, I ran into a very funny and boisterous guy I met at a party last summer. Yes, last summer, but he was so memorable. Every now and then, you meet the true life of the party and this guy fits that description aptly. After re-introducing ourselves, I then proceeded to play cupid, attempting to set him up with a girlfriend who was also at the party. As it turns out, they were already friends, so that did not exactly go very well. Shortly after this failed introduction, his cousin, also a friend of mine, having no idea we were acquaintances, then tried to hook us up! Can you spell C-I-R-C-U-S? These pseudo introductions could not have been more embarrassing or more ridiculous. Finally, we both busted out laughing, and so began a whole new chapter with this Ice-Cocoa brother, a native of Ghana, and an advertising executive in the city. We had one quick dance and a casual hug. No slime, no sleaze, just a good old fashioned hug. I liked that; refreshing, clean, interesting.

Fast forward to Saturday night, and I’m asking myself, “How on earth did I end up in a bootleg party in Brooklyn (BK)?” Have you ever walked into a room and just felt some weird vibe? Something is off, and you just can’t pinpoint it. I had that sinking feeling as I walked into this BBQ party in BK. As I observed my surroundings, I watched suckle looking honeys swarm around the host and the guys, well, a mix of sleaze and grease. Our “sleek host”, who was a friend-of-a-friend, rolled up in a silver Mercedes Benz, decked out in white designer jeans and more jewelry than I care to see on a man. Worse still, he killed his outfit with white shoes. Why do men wear white shoes?…hold that thought…  He was accompanied by a handy dandy girl (cause that’s what she was) that looked like a college freshman, next to his mid-40 year oldish frame. It was like being on the set of a rap video–grill smoking and drinks flowing; except that this video was playing live before my eyes.

El-Sleeko was a married man, hosting the party incognito! We had walked into a den of thieves – married, engaged or otherwise committed men. El-Sleeko was brazen, marching back and forth in his angel-white shoes, and policing guests not to post pictures on Facebook. We left the party in a hurry, but not before we wolfed down some ribs and spicy rice, why let perfectly good food go to waste?. The ride home tossed between angry outbursts and sober reflections of “what’s out there”. This was a text book example of a perfectly wasted Saturday night and I was just as pissed, that my red-hot, short-shorts and boob-tube had gone to waist. El-Sleeko’s BBQ left a lot to be desired and one question still unanswered: Why do men wear white shoes?

So what’s your story?  Have you ever found yourself at a crazy party that you can’t explain? Share your stories with me.  And if you know why men wear white shoes, please, do tell!