Awkward Moments And Brief Concerns
Yesterday afternoon was the celebration for my stepsister’s 40th birthday. Stepfamily gatherings are always akin to having teeth pulled and usually have me denying my line of work as something “office related.” While my job is taboo, so is the pay. I don’t make very much, at least in my parents eyes. My little sister, however, just managed to pull a major raise without a college degree; something that gets rubbed in my face on a somewhat daily basis. Thanks, yeah, I really need to hear that she makes so much money and has such a great life. Especially after years of hearing my parents talking about how they never thought she would grow up, and the countless stories that started with “when we were drunk last week…” My mom was explaining to my stepsister’s mother that my sister had just received a raise. Realizing I was in ear shot, she suddenly covered her mouth and said “sorry, don’t think you were supposed to hear that”. Thanks mom.
Needless to say, I was thrilled to escape and go to church with my boyfriend. When I was five minutes away from church, I called OFMA on my handsfree and asked him where he was. He’d just gotten home. He hadn’t showered. He was going to be 20 minutes late. I got to sit by myself in a Catholic church. Saving two seats. Old people walking around looking at me with disdain for reading something other than the bible while I waited. It was pretty much torture. So OFMA shows up with one of our friends in the middle of the service. I will call him The Magic Man, or MM, because I think he would kill me for it. So we go through the service. I have a problem with the Catholic church, other than the pope thing. I don’t understand why Christians who are not Catholic cannot take communion. Its like an exclusive country club, and you’re the maid so you will never be accepted, but of course your money is fine, and your labors, but you cannot take part in one of the main rituals. So I go up for the little blessing head tap thing. OFMA is in a different line then usual, so I follow him. The lady who does the ritual for me looks at me intently, almost as if she wants to say something to me. I smile at her, she smiles back. She looks really familiar for some reason, but I can’t place her. She does the random head tap thing and blesses me and I go to sit back down. When the service ends, MM suddenly disappears. I spin around and ask OFMA where the heck MM is (saying hell in church is usually a no no). He points. MM is standing with OFMA’s ex girlfriend and her parents. The woman who gave me the blessing is her mother. I follow OFMA as he goes to talk to his ex’s family and her. I can’t go to the car, because at this point they’ve seen me, and MM has mentioned I’m there. I get to stand there for the whole ten minutes, trying to make polite conversation with the family of the girl who broke OFMA’s heart. I can feel their judgment. I can see the anger in her mother’s eyes that this chunky Protestant Heathen is the woman that has made OFMA forget their little girl. More than awkward.
Finally, we leave. I mention that it was awkward. OFMA apologizes and we go have dinner with his folks. We decide to watch a movie. We pick Shaun of the Dead. I have a pathological fear of zombies, but I’ve seen SOTD before so I figure it will be ok. OFMA and I try to make out to the movie, but I finally get so anxiety ridden over the zombie noises in the background that I stop him and make him turn off the DVD. We end up watching a little bit of the Discovery Channel Blue Planet stuff and then go back to making out. Finally, its time to head home. I’m still icky from the zombies and exes.
I get home and the neighbors have devastated the courtyard of our apartment with a party. Beer cans, cake plates, trash of every description but medical waste, its all over the courtyard, up to the steps of my stairs. I refuse to make eye contact with my neighbors for fear that I will rip them a new one and end up calling the cops. When I woke up this morning, the courtyard was still littered with their filth. If its not gone by 5pm tonight, I’m calling my landlord. I try not to do this ever. One because I don’t really want my landlord to come down, and Two because I”m pretty sure if the cops are ever called some people are not going to be living their for long. I wish people would be more considerate with their parties. I don’t care if you have one. Just don’t have it til 4am on a Sunday and clean up your mess you darn fool!
