Tonight I went to Adult Hipster #1’s housewarming party with Dano.

It was weird, to say the least.

Dano, under the guise of family man and burgeoning indie director, was immediately embraced by his old high school gang. Even though it wasn’t based in reality, it was still nice to see a group of people being so approving and proud of someone whom they hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. They were very welcoming of me, as well. I felt as if I had been let in into an exclusive “adult club.”

After a while of playing the dutiful social wife, I slipped away from the Adult Hipsters Gang and Dano to wander about the party. Mostly everyone was a few years older than me—late twenties, early thirties—but they all seemed to have a role to fulfill. There were people starting families, people invested in their careers, activists championing a cause, artists attempting to remain true to their “crafts,” people oblivious to the fact that they’re blowhards, etc. Everyone had “a thing” and I was just wallowing in nothing, floating from one corner of the room to next trying to figure how everyone else “adulted.”

My wandering led me to the kitchen where the booze was headquartered (as per usual). As I stooped down to pick up an ice cold beer bottle from the cooler, my head bumped into somebody else’s chin. Amidst my own pain, I immediately apologized.

“Sorry,” I said as I clasped the top of my head and finally looked up. My eyes met someone familiar, though I couldn’t recall who.

Familiar Stranger: “I know you from somewhere”

Me: “No, you must be confusing me for someone else.”

I was just now remembering that I had a role to play and if anyone recognized me from my real life, it could end in disaster.

Familiar Stranger: “No, I’m positive, I’ve seen you before”

Me: “Well, I promise you—I don’t come here often”

Familiar Stranger: “Now, I remember you. You’re the juror with the smart mouth”

Oh yes, this was the young lawyer I had been ogling for two weeks a few months ago during jury duty.

Me: “I’m more than just than a smart mouth, you know. If someone could just see me for my looks for once, I would be so happy!”

Pretty Young Lawyer: “There she is!” He smirks, and then continues, “I have to admit, I really enjoyed looking over your notebook. You know, the one you used to take notes during testimonies?”

Me: “I thought you weren’t supposed to see those!”

PYL: “Well, sometimes the judges will let us take them back to the office after the case has been deliberated. They can help to show us how we can improve. What we did wrong, what we did right… that kind of thing.”

Me: “How do you know which one was my notebook?”

PYL: “You can usually tell when someone’s doodling. It’s the only time they ever really seem invested in taking notes. Well, that and you were very obvious. Everyone could tell you were shading in things.”

Me: “Did you see ALL of the notes?”  Worry briefly overcame me.

PYL: “I normally don’t. It gets boring after a while”

Me: “Oh good!” Relief briefly washed over me.

PYL: “But yours were interesting. Very entertaining.”

Oh, shit!

Me: “Oh, no!”

PYL: “Oh, yes!”

There’s that smirk again.

PYL: “You’re a very talented artist. Very funny, too. I particularly enjoyed your doodle of my ass mouthing the words ‘This is my mouth piece!’”

Pretty sure I’m blushing now.

Me: “Oh, you don’t know that for certain. That could’ve been anyone’s ass!”

PYL: “Well everyone else with a law degree in that court room was twice my age, so I’m pretty sure that was my tight ass you drew in that notebook”

Me: “Well you think very highly of your ass don’t you?”

PYL: “Not necessarily. That was definitely my neck tie you drew around that ass doodle. Tell me, are my pants really that tight?”

Me: “You could stand to wear a bigger pant size”

Awkward silence ensues. Hurray.

PYL: “Sorry, have I made you uncomfortable?”

Me: “My guess is… not as uncomfortable as I’ve made you?”

PYL: “…Yeah.”

Me: “My sincerest apologies for objectifying you. Would you believe me if I said I did it for The Sisterhood? To kind of balance things out?”

He’s not buying it.

Me: “No? Ok, I did it because I was bored out of my mind and I’m near-sighted so yours was the only ass I could make out.”

PYL: “Oh, no apology needed! The blame is on me. I keep forgetting to screen for perverts during the selection process. My partner keeps reminding me but, apparently I have no radar for your type.”

Me: “You know what? It was your bad because I wore a long beige trench coat that first day and I never took it off even though the courtroom was very stuffy. That should’ve been your first red flag and that’s on you.”

He laughs. No one ever laughs at my stupid jokes anymore. Am I blushing again?  

PYL: “So what are you doing here? Do you know Kevin and Myra?”

Oooooh, Kevin!  Adult Hipster #1’s name is Kevin but I keep thinking it’s something stupid like Pabst Blue Ribbon or Abacus.

Me: “No. Kind of. We have a friend in common. You?”

PYL: “Kevin’s our tech guy at the law firm.”

Me: “Oh, the law firm where yours is the only tight ass in existence?”

PYL: “Yeah, that one! Actually, my partner Richard has the best ass in the business. I was almost offended on his behalf when you didn’t draw his instead”

Me: “Oh, Richard has his own notebook! I just didn’t turn it in because I was too ashamed”

PYL: “Oh, well that’s good to hear! It’s not every day you meet a pervert with shame.”

Me: “Yes, well, my parents raised a very nuanced pervert. So where’s my notebook now?”

PYL: “I think it’s in my office somewhere”

Me: “You kept it for that long?”

PYL: “Yeah, I was hoping to replace my work ID picture with your illustration but I guess I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

PYL definitely had a better sense of humor than I would expect anyone that handsome to have. I wanted to keep talking to him—maybe to see if I could get that incriminating notebook back—but when I went to use the restroom, I saw Dano wandering around. I thought he might be looking for me so I returned to the kitchen and told PYL I had to go and then said goodbye.

Dano was ready to leave. Exhausted from lying, he told his old friends that it was time for us to relieve the babysitter.

The Dano that left that party was different from the Dano I had been hanging out with throughout the weeks leading up to tonight. He seemed more relaxed, more contented. New Dano hummed on the drive back. New Dano bought a happy meal just so that he could give me the toy to give to Baby Sam. New Dano talked about the possibility of going to film school as soon as he found a stable job. New Dano was hope incarnate and it made me feel as if what I had done—maybe—wasn’t so crazy after all.

When I got home, I started rummaging through my purse for lip balm when I noticed a white business card. On the front, it had printed “Attorney At Law” and on the back it had scrawled, “Should you seek reparations for the concussion I’ve probably caused you… or if you just want to get a second look at Richard’s ass.”