She's Not His Type
I was disinvited to a social gathering last night. It's not that I didn't want to spend last night at home with a glass of wine, it's just that I wish that I hadn't put on makeup and an amazing skirt first.
The woman hosting the party is a friend of a friend. We have the kind of relationship where we run into one another while drinking in our zip code. We drink and talk and she calls me "girlfriend," then I talk to someone else. I don't talk to people who say "girlfriend" or "don't go there" unless they are doing my hair. Still, in my book, we're pretty close. I mean, I haven't puked at her house or anything, but I've felt pretty nauseated.
I'm used to not being invited to events. I have no problem with people who don't want me present from the beginning. Lots of people hate me. I attribute it mostly to being fascinating and my stunning eyelashes. It may also have to do with my intimidating shoe collection, but that is an issue that other people can resolve by shopping. I feel no guilt.
Being disinvited is a new experience for me. In order to feel better about myself, I am temped to list all of her flaws here, but that would just be ugly. She can't help it if she can't tell a story without forgetting it halfway through. Nor do I hold it against her that she has to wax her entire face and probably her neck. I wouldn't do that. I like her. Really, I do.
It seems that she is trying to gain the affections of a new man. This man likes "ethnic" looking women. I cannot help it that due to my parent's multi-cultural interests, I just happen to be ethnic looking. I also cannot help it that she is not. I am sure that plenty of men just adore her look. Why, they must be lining up to admire her in all her don't-go-there-girl mystique.
I think I have a pretty good discrimination case here. Until my day in court, you will find me peacefully protesting outside her home.
We shall overcome.