Housewife

I secretly wish someone would just whip me into shape and train me. On certain nights, I really want to be domesticated. The ‘going out’ thing gets so redundant sometimes but it’s all I know. I’ve conditioned myself to think that no matter how tired, lazy, ‘over it’, I really am, once Friday night creeps up, I feel the need to go out, have a drink, and party. Stay in on a Friday night? Perish the thought. It just doesn’t exist in my head. My brain doesn’t have the capacity to understand that concept. I’ve tried it a few times. I tell myself I’m going to have a lazy Friday night and watch a movie or read a book. I end up checking the clock religiously. Once 9:00pm hits, I’m on the phone with my friends figuring out where we should go. We spend a few minutes trying to decide where we’ll party the night away. It usually goes something like this:

"So where should we go tonight? I wanna dance."

“I'm down for whatever but I don't want to pay cover.”

“Me either. Oh..and I don’t want to wait in a line.”

“Well what are the girls doing tonight?”

“They’re going to do something ‘straight’ cuz they’re getting sick of the gayness.”

“Um. Oh. I hate ‘straight’ spots. Strike 1, pay cover. Strike 2, wait in line. Strike 3, nobody there wants us.”

“Exactly. So We Ho again?”

“Ugh. I’m so sick of We Ho though. We could try Silverlake?”

“We could. But what’s Akbar playing tonight? Is the music good?”

“I don’t know. It’s usually hit or miss. Sometimes they play that weird indie shit that I can’t dance to.”

“Fuck! But I wanna dance to Beyonce. Okay let’s just go to We Ho.”

“Okay. Fiesta for 2-for-1 drinks then Popstarz?”

“Yup. I’ll be at your place in 10 minutes. You drive. Thanks!”

Once we arrive, I’m not necessarily on the prowl. Of course it’s fun to look, but after a while, they all start to look like carbon copies of the We Ho prototype. Good looking, tight shirt, tight jeans…and…white. *YAWN*

We walk by the bars and hear the “dunch, dunch, dunch” of the techno music from The Abbey piercing the night. We roll our eyes and say, “UGH. I hate the ‘dunch dunch’ music. Ew. And look at the line. Who waits in line for a bar? Everyone in there is ugly!”

We drink enough so that we’re comfortably buzzed but not excessively drunk. Just enough to help us believe we’re the best thing that ever happened to this world. (Alcohol definitely boosts the confidence).

We dance. We laugh. We eat. We sleep. Repeat. I’ve memorized how this works already.

I’m not saying I want to give up the nightlife. I enjoy it too much. (For whatever reason, I don’t know.) But on certain nights…I wish I could just do the things this guy says in this song, appropriately titled, "Housewife":



He's the guy from the movie, "Shortbus." He plays Ceth...which is "Seth, with a 'C'." I wanna be his housewife. But we haven't met yet.