All dressed up and no place to go

It's no secret that even though I inhabit a city of 8 million other people, it's still an incredibly lonely place.



But work flew by tonight because I had set up a billiards date with a bunch of people from work. Finally! A fun night out! With friends!


Wrong.



Earlier in the day, a few people canceled, but that was OK because there were still some people who were still free.


So I went home and hopped in the shower in a great mood, humming Carrie Underwood's "Before He Cheats." Since I was feeling a bit seductive, I put on my sleeveless black shirt with the sexy rip in the front along with jeans, black flats, and big, hoop earrings that peeked out behind the waves I put in my hair.


But then, one guy had to work later than anticipated, and just before I was ready to leave to meet my other colleague at the pool hall I picked out, he told me it "didn't look like he was going to be able to make it anymore." This was after telling me just three hours earlier that he would meet me wherever I wanted to go. Seriously?


But since I was all dressed up and ready to go, I called the girl who had just gotten off work and asked her if she still wanted to go. She said she did, but would have to meet us later because she had just gotten off work and had to go home to get ready. That left just me and another guy who said he was also planning on meeting us up later.


Even though I am desperate to have friends here, I drew the line at going to a pool hall by myself and waiting for an undetermined amount of time for someone who may or may not show up.


Since I was literally ditched by my colleagues, I decided to call the one person who I can always count on: Brent. Even though he's always (eventually) there for me when I need him, he was at the one thing that stands in his way from being there for me at the exact moment that I need him: work.
I told him the situation and explained that I was literally all dressed up with nowhere to go. I then suggested I meet him downtown for dinner and a drink. It was, after all, a Friday night. But he said he still had more work to do, and after a long day, going out was the last thing on his mind.

So I had two options: Stay at home, cry, and feel sorry for myself, or go out on a Friday night by myself.


Even though I seriously considered the first option, I decided to do what I usually do and take on this big, bad city solo.


So I changed into a bit more comfortable outfit - meaning a T-shirt, jeans, and sandals - and headed downtown on 9th Avenue - which is loaded with restaurants and bars. I was hungry, so I just started walking to see where my feet would take me.

My first stop was to a wine bar, Bocca Di Bacco, about three blocks away that I've been to before when my mom came to visit. Even though I was feeling like a bit of a loser - alone on a Friday night, after all - I took a deep breath and went through the doors ready for a bite to eat and a nice glass of wine, even if it was by myself.


I asked the hostess if I could just order food from the bar, but then looked over to see it was all full of people with unbuttoned suit coats and loosened ties laughing at happy hour after work. Then I asked her for a table for one, but she apologized and said the place was full. Then she handed me a card and suggested that I order takeout for home.


Even tougher than going out by myself was keeping it together just enough to smile and thank her for the suggestion to essentially doing my first option: going home to cry... with some food.


So there I was, tears running down my face as I was trudging down 9th Avenue feeling sorry for myself. Thank God it was dark out or people would have seen just how pathetic I felt.


After walking another two blocks and wiping away the tears, I crossed the street when I saw the nice place that Brent and I went with one of my best friends, Sarah, when she was in town a few months ago.

I originally planned on sitting on the velvet furniture like we did last time, but they're all situated in circles around tables. I would have looked ridiculous sitting there alone. So I chose to sit next to an older guy nursing a scotch. I was alone at a bar. I might as well look the part.


After perusing the menu, I decided order a mixed drink made with Southern Comfort mostly because I was hoping to take advantage of the "comfort" part. Then I ordered some quesadillas.


Then I watched the lame show on the TV above the bar for a bit. And then I read that there was a $15 minimum if you wanted to pay with a credit card. No problem. The one drink I ordered was $11 - along with the three more that followed.


Then I texted a few of my real, actual friends - none of which live anywhere near New York - to tell them that I missed them. Most of them quickly texted back asking if I was OK, which at the time, I didn't feel OK, but it's nice to have people who know you and care about you. I love my friends.

Then I watched the lame TV show some more and tried to ignore all the groups of people laughing around me while praying that my quesadillas would show up and I'd have something to do.


The turning point came when I accidentally dropped my purse from my lap - and the 60-something guy drinking alone next to me picked it up for me and struck up a conversation.


For the next 90 minutes, I actually kinda enjoyed myself while I talked to this guy, Harry, about New York, my job, his job, the area we lived in, his family, etc. It was nice. And he wasn't hitting on me or being a dirty old man or anything - we were just two people alone at a bar enjoying the company of someone else. It would have sucked a whole lot more if I would have just sat there alone re-reading the credit card sign 100 times.


And he apparently was grateful for the company because before he left to meet up with his family, he took care of my more than $60 bar tab. He really was a nice guy!


And after four strong drinks in less than two hours, I was feeling pretty good myself - so good in fact, that it took me four blocks to realize that I was walking in the wrong direction. Very stupid on a number of levels, but thank God the streets of New York are numbered, so it was easy to correct my mistake, even in an inebriated state.


When I got home and told Brent of my grand plans to go out with another guy from work - one who didn't get off until almost midnight - he immediately nixed my plans, which at the time really infuriated me, but now I realize he was, once again, looking out for me and there when I needed him.


I may not have any friends here, but I thank God every day I have him.