The Batty Broad tries really hard to be a nice person. It’s a challenge. Not because I don’t want to be “nice”, more because other people make it so damn hard. A lot of my conversations where I try to explain why something unexplainable happens begin with “Well I was trying to be nice…”. You would think that I would learn. But, no. The biggest problem is that trying to be nice often gets me into situations that end up being, well, awkward. To be fair, these awkward moments are preceded by some (usually oblivious) action on my part that opens the proverbial gates of hell and then anything can happen…and usually does.
One such “awkward moment” occurred a few months back when I was on a business trip to our home office. On this particular trip, I had to endure 3 weeks of “boot camp” aka training on our products. It was bad enough that this “boot camp” was 3 weeks long but the instructor of said “boot camp” just happened to be the company’s token pompous ass. I spent 3 weeks fluctuating between three states: confused, completely confused and pissed off. Most of the time I was experiencing at least two of those at the same time. It was hell. I’m fairly certain that it would have made Marine boot camp look like a walk in the park.
So when one of our co-workers invited me and another co-worker out for drinks, I could not say no. If anyone needed a drink, it was me. I had been considering actually slipping in a bottle in a brown paper bag to sip covertly while our Drill Sargent, ahem, trainer attempted to “train” us. I wasn’t really gaining any useful information out of this “class” so being intoxicated seemed like it might have been a better state then the aforementioned confused, completely confused and pissed off. Alas, I have a Jimminy Cricket conscience so that was out of the question.
The invitation to go out for dinner and drinks was actually a group invitation but only four of us actually ended up willing and able to go. I saw the rest of my co-workers stumbling toward their hotel rooms like survivors from a zombie apocalypse so my guess was sleeping seemed like a better idea to them than drinking. Fools!
So off we headed to a local restaurant for “Ladies 80′s Night”. This was appealing to me for two reasons: 1. There would be cheesy 80′s music and 2. If you bought two drinks, you got to eat for free. What a deal! It ended up being a foursome comprised of two men and two women which I didn’t think much of at the time but probably looked like the most awkward double date in history.
As my focus was on drinking and not much else, I made short work of a chocolate martini and ordered a second drink. Meanwhile, my good friend DR who is supposed to be my lifeline, begins to become engrossed in conversation with one of our male co-workers. This leaves me sitting very close to and having to hold a conversation with the other male co-worker who I do not know but has begun to flirt with me. Awesome. So rather than dealing with the situation with maturity and a sense of self-preservation, I order another drink. I reason that maybe alcohol will help me to ignore his completely overt advances.
After I finish my second drink, I realize that the food still hasn’t arrived and that I am starting to feel a little tipsy. So I order a third drink. Don’t ask why, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I glance over at DR who is STILL engrossed in conversation and is too far away for me to kick under the table. When the third drink arrives I realize that I have tipped past the point of tipsy and into the land of feeling no pain. It’s a good land to be in but there is one problem with hanging out there – you aren’t really paying attention to what’s going on. Which is what leads me to that “oblivious action” that precedes all awkward moments in my life.
The drink that arrives has a cherry in it – with a stem. The Batty Broad is multi-talented and one of my many party tricks is the ability to tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue. Not the fake kind that so many women try to do…oh no…the kind that you learn in girl scout camp. I’m that good. So WITHOUT thinking of the situation and the very obvious flirting that has been going on and my level of intoxication – I put the cherry stem into my mouth and perform my standard party trick. I take the stem out of my mouth and place it on the table and go back to my drink.
Meanwhile, there is a recognizable sound coming from the back of my mind…oh yes, the gates of hell have opened. Before I can react I see the flirtatious co-worker pick up the cherry stem that has just been in MY MOUTH and place it into his mouth. As I try to gather my wits so that I can figure out WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON, I can’t seem to find them as they are swimming in a pool of chocolate martinis. Damn. Just when I think things cannot get worse I become an unwilling participant in a scene that can only be described as horrifying.
The flirtatious co-worker slowly pulls the cherry stem out of his mouth, demonstrating that he has a much better party trick than The Batty Broad because he has UNTIED my carefully crafted girl scout knot! I am both impressed and nauseous. As if THAT is not bad enough, he then turns to me and hands me the cherry stem. Then with a sly smile he leans in very close and says, “imagine the things we could do together”. Gulp.
I want to get up and run but given that I have had three martini’s and no food that seems unwise. I once again try to get DR’s attention but she is oblivious to my plight. So I do the only lady-like thing I can think of and excuse myself to go to the bathroom. When I stand up I realize that the running option is completely out of the question. I make it to the bathroom and try to figure out an escape plan. Unfortunately that stupid conscience of mine will not let me leave my friend DR (who is going to be in BIG trouble later) alone with two male co-workers so I head back to the table and sit as far away from my cherry stem knot untying lothario co-worker as humanly possible without switching tables.
The good news is that I have finally found my wits. I FINALLY get DR’s attention and make it clear that I am not “feeling well”. Which is not a lie. I just don’t explain that my nausea is from being grossed out and not from intoxication. There is an awkward goodbye which is far less awkward than the preceding cherry stem incident. We make our way back to the hotel and I finally get to tell DR what has been going on at my end of the table. Her reply is to laugh hysterically. Nice. I go to my room and hope that I won’t remember any of this the next day. Alas, this is not the case.
DR spends the next day giggling every time she sees our flirtatious co-worker look at me. I spend the next day trying not to throw up in my mouth. As usual, it was awkward.
If you hang out with me in the future, it’s best to make sure that I eat before I drink and please don’t let me order any drinks with a cherry. You never know what might happen.
You have been warned.
The Batty Broad