He asks, “Who wants a shot?” and receives a plethera of positive responses…
“Yeah. I guess, Sure.”
“You buying, right? Hell, why not.”
Ten minutes pass. He returns with a tray full of red colored shots and declares them “panty droppers.” I cringe and anticipate the overly sweet flavor that will hopefully mask the soured taste I have in my mouth from hearing the name of this shot…
There are seven women at the bar including myself. Our ages range from 25-37. Three women are married, three have children, one has two children, two have boyfriends and three are single. Our varying lifestyles sound like part of a word problem you’d find in elementary math. Our chemistry is a bit more complex. Age, familial status and maturity level don’t necessarily have any correlation within this particular group. In my opinion, Maturity (like time) is all relative, but I am probably the most immature. Let me rephrase that; The idea of maturity and adulthood is bullshit. We are the way we are and probably always will be, but then again, I COULD be described as childish by conventional (bull shit) standards.
The relationship status of these women have changed over the years, but the happenings of “girl’s night” seem to be consistent. Men always end up being involved. The single ladies tend to disappear like Cinderella after the ball, often leaving something behind. In my case, it’s usually my bar tab. The married ones act like Solomon’s eye, but can’t handle their liquor quite as well, so us single Cinderellas can usually find a way to slip out of sight avoiding the line of judgement and over protective tendencies of these wonderful women.
Judging by my experiences, I question, “who is protecting who?” Moms and wives don’t get out as often. Many times, they have forgotten the seedy, underground world of the single woman. They don’t remember the 3AM dives and shady strip clubs that some hopefully eligible “Prince Charming” would convince them to go to. They have forgotten about the nights where they accidentally fall asleep in the car listening to music with that same chivalrous, white knight, only to have your love dreams interrupted by the abrupt halt of music that happens when the car runs out of gas.
It’s true. They have forgotten about that lifestyle, the darker state of singleness. Actually, YOU worry for THEM. You care about your married girl friends. You enjoy their sunny outlook in life. You would never ask them to join you on the dark side. In fact, you strive to shield them from this strange, lost world of loneliness.
You will NOT expose them to the tricksters and the cons that pass themselves off as “Prince Charming.” Hell no! You will NOT let them take shots called by such offensive names like “Panty Dropper” bought by some fowl-mouthed, egotistical, yet attractive jerk. Instead, YOU will take all of those shots yourself, being the single-life Robin Hood that you are and disappear into the night with that beautiful jerk… because YOU are a good friend, dammit!
Now, where the hell is my drive of shame Uber, please!? It has been like 15 minutes and this sleeping prince doesn’t look as charming as he did last night…