This is the first of a new series of posts that Tere and I will be doing together. While we have a lot in common and do a lot of things together, we recently realized that we bring very different perspectives into our friendship and shared experiences. So we thought it’d be fun to take on specific topics together and write about them from our own points of view.
A few weeks ago, I found myself in a place both familiar and foreign all at once. While the physical location was one I knew well, my place, my role in it was different now.
I was out with friends, at a nightclub/lounge on South Beach. That was not the different part. What was different was my being there with my boyfriend. MY boyfriend. This was new to me, unfamiliar, unknown, and probably several other “un-“ words that escape me right now. Being at a nightclub with a boy – and not just any boy; a boy of my very own – was something completely out of my realm of experience. No, my past experiences have always put me in the position of “the friend.” As in, “this is so-and-so, his girlfriend and her friend.” That is the role I know. The one with which I am familiar and comfortable.
For many years, and on many occasions, I was always the single friend that hung out with the couple (or couples, as the case may be). I was actually okay with that. I never felt that I was the odd girl out. My friends never made me feel like the third wheel. I was always included, always a part of the group. I always got along with my girlfriends’ significant others, and I think part of the reason the guys liked me, aside from my unquestionable awesomeness (I’m so kidding!), is because I was always a “good girl.” I was the friend that would never be a bad influence on their girlfriends. On the occasions that the guy’s friends would come out with us, I was automatically “one of the guys.” I would find myself tossing back shots and checking out chicks right along with the boys. And they always appreciated my sixth sense when it came to pointing out the fake boobs (high and tight, guys; high and tight). But this one night, the recent one, was completely alien to me. This time, it was I that was a part of the couple. And it was my friend that joined us for the evening.
Tere and I had started out with a girls’ only Thai dinner at Red Koi (which was truly excellent, by the way) in the Gables. After dinner, we headed to South Beach and picked up Christian, my boyfriend (I’m sorry, did you get that? MY boyfriend. What??) before making our way to Buck 15, easily my favorite nightspot on the beach after Dewey’s. We were the first ones there – I know; how uncool – ensuring us face time with the bartender and our choice of VIP seating (at least until the real VIPs showed up later in the evening). We ordered our first round of drinks, and perched ourselves on one of the squishy couches in the corner, where we gabbed over the music until the vodka kicked in, and we had loosened up enough to dance (“we” being Tere and me; my boy don’t dance). While we were sitting there chatting, it dawned on me that we – Tere and I – had instinctively sat on either side of Christian. When we whipped out our cameras, I took just as many “couple-y” pictures of Tere and Christian as she did of us. I was unquestioningly sharing my boyfriend with my friend for the evening. Not intentionally, but – truth be told – for a while there I kind of forgot he was mine. It just felt to me like we were three friends hanging out, and not at all like “my boyfriend, my friend and me.” This was such a strange place for me to be that I suppose my brain reverted back to the familiar, the customary, the usual. My brain reverted to being the tagalong.
Later in the evening, a few of Tere’s friends joined us at Buck 15. While dancing with one of her friends, he asked me why my boy wasn’t dancing. It took me a second to make sense of his question because my first thought was “my boy? where? ohh… THAT boy!” Wow, hey. Yeah, how about that? I have a boy!
It also made me realize, at that moment, all the ways in which this evening was better, more enjoyable, than evenings past. I wasn’t at all concerned with whether or not anyone there had found me attractive, other than my boy. I didn’t care if any boys talked to me or flirted with me or tried to kiss me, because I had a boy to talk to and flirt with and kiss. I didn’t care if any boys wanted to dance with me or not, because I was having a great time dancing with my friends. And when we decided to call it a night and head out, I didn’t care if any boys asked me for my number or not because I was leaving with the most perfect boy: mine, the one I came with.
It was such a great night, for many reasons. But just being out on the town with my two loves – my dear, sweet (hot!) friend, and my dear, sweet (hot!) boyfriend – living this new experience, one that I can now add to my list of moments, that alone made it worthwhile in my book.
For Tere’s take on this topic, visit her blog here.