Average Jane



An incurable case of suburbia

My Suburban Weekend: A Report by Average Jane

“Please tell me you didn’t bang JDate-o-phile last night.” The Cultural Commentator texted me to catch up on my Saturday evening.

No no, I assured her. That would have ruined my perfectly mundane weekend. Not that I’m complaining. Much.

I got in trouble by Wonkette for giving a blow-by-blow of my weekend before. But whatever.

Friday night, I got off work at 7:30. I was exhausted and so I opted out of going to the gym. Instead I came home, got in my jammies, had dinner, and waiting for Carrie M. to come over. You see, she is my suburban partner in crime. After she ate, and we caught up, my friends came over and we played sober Apples to Apples. Fun, cheap, and with donuts. So rad. We really did have a good time.
Saturday, I went running, went to the market, Kohls, and Barnes and Noble, got coffee with a girlfriend, did 3 loads of laundry, read a little bit of my book and then, ya know, sat around and did nothing.

But Saturday night, oh, Saturday night was a party.

Jdate-o-phile texted me to hang out, and I told him I was undecided on the evening. So many options, including: nothing, going to a bar alone, or going to Target. He said he was going to dinner with his heterosexual life partner (who happens to be rather cute and a musician and Jewish (CC can confirm this fact)) but would call me when they were done. Throughout the evening I got a number of texts asking me if I had decided on my plans for the evening, and by this time I had. Target, all the way. Because I’m awesome. And go to Target on Saturday night.

This seemed to be a good strategic move because I hate shopping, hate Christmas, and really hate Christmas shoppers. I figured correctly as Target was veritably empty, excepting for other really hep cats like me who duped the holiday system and avoided the rush. And are super cool. I was doing well, navigating the first floor without issue, but then I ventured upstairs to check out the board games (in case life called for another emergency evening of Apples to Apples or Mexican Train) and music.

I had forgotten that while I was being “cool” and avoiding stupid crowds, Target is the place to go on a Saturday night if you’re anybody who’s anybody under the age of 16. I had inadvertently stumbled upon the hot spot in suburbia for squeaky, scantily clad, giggling high school girls. A gaggle of them. They ran up and down the aisles taking pictures of each other and sitting on aisle displays, not moving as I attempted to look at the music on sale. (“Um… Hi. I’m actually spending money here. Would you mind, you know, getting the f*ck out of my way? Kthxbai.”) I wanted them to go away, but then I made a startling discovery:

I had been one of those girls.

OK, let me qualify. I had been one of those girls minus the obnoxious squeaking and lack of clothing. Giggling, maybe a little. But in high school and college I was there ironically. And I stand by that. It was fun, but we were unobtrusive. And not squeaky. Did I mention the not squeakiness?

So after my sad realization that I was, in effect, reliving my pathetic high school experience, I ran over to Barnes and Noble where I browsed through 3 books (The God Delusion, Stock Investing for Dummies, and, shoot. I forget. But it was a novel). Then I got the text that my dear Jdate-o-phile was done and heading home. I told him I was on my way. After I finished reading, of course.

At 10pm on Saturday night, I left BN and headed for his house. When I arrived he offered me a beer. I opted for a glass of wine. We plopped on the couch in his gorgeous bachelor pad. I looked cute as a button. He was not looking bad himself.

“Please tell me you didn’t bang JDate-o-phile last night.”

My reply: “No. I went to his place and we discussed privacy law and your position paper all night.”

“Tell me you’re not serious.”

Yup, kids. That’s my life. After a night of Target and Barnes and Noble, after a day of errands and puttering around the house, I went to an attractive man’s apartment and discussed politics, policy, conspiracy theories, and privacy laws over a bottle of beer and a glass of wine.

And then I went home.

Is anyone else not surprised that I never get laid? *sigh*

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Comments

  1. * carrie m says:

    that dude’s not cute enough for you, if it’s the same one who was at dogfishhead last weekend.

    loves you!

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 10 months ago
  2. * jess says:

    i have ‘god is not great’ on my shelf o’ guilt (ie, books not yet read). we should discuss at some point πŸ™‚

    and you said ‘position paper.’

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 10 months ago
  3. * Mandy says:

    I love Target. And Barnes and Noble. Sounds like a good night to me. haha. I will totally own my lame-ness.

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 10 months ago
  4. * Sam says:

    Hey, so I get the whole thing about how talking about privacy law is kind of dorky, Jane, but I was wondering: what are girls supposed to talk about if they’re NOT going to discuss dorky topics like politics or policy over a glass of wine? Like, seriously. What topic of conversation would theoretically be more in-line with getting you laid?

    I’m sincerely curious, because it seems to me like the alternative to being a little bit dorky is being member of the scantily-clad giggling gaggle, and, like, wow, I haven’t wanted to bang a giggler since around the age of 25. (And we’ll leave aside banging a squeaker because that’s just plain illegal).

    Plus didn’t we already establish you shouldn’t bang jdate-o-phile? Sure, he didn’t share his rape fantasy with you like the other one, but he’s still a little bit questionable. Jumping him might have spiced up an otherwise uneventful Saturday, but the spices in question would have been a hint of excitement coupled with a dash of shame. πŸ˜‰

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 10 months ago
  5. * Sweet Escape says:

    Target on ANY night is an awesome night! :p

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 10 months ago
  6. * Bove says:

    “I went to an attractive man’s apartment and discussed politics, policy, conspiracy theories, and privacy laws over a bottle of beer and a glass of wine.”
    I’m confused… when did Aaron Sorkin start developing plot-lines for your life story?

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 10 months ago


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