What's a weekend in Juneau without some awkwardness?
Though I had every intention of taking it easy during the weekend, in honor of the holiday party on Sunday, I did manage to go out on Friday night (read head over heels) and on Saturday night.
Some other notes on Friday night: Started the night at Miss P's place, holding a dance party with Miss SN, Miss JK, and Mr. BM. Post dance party we took the show on the road, hitting the bars. The head-over-heels thing was one of many reasons why I was not upset to have discovered my shift at the Bergmann high-jacked by another, possibly needier bartender. Not the bartender's fault. Definitely the fault of everyone's favorite drama-addled lawyer/property & business owner. It's ok. All is forgiven.
Saturday night was a very nice night, indeed. I went to a housewarming party (see future entry about banjos) and had dinner with Miss A. It was nice to get out after having spent much of the day listening to the same Christmas CD on repeat while accepting donations for a charity and watching children piled onto Santa's lap for photos and material wishes. I was especially thrilled to hear from a child, old enough for material wants, but young enough to not be limited in wishes by the media advertising world. He wanted a Thomas the Train table. His mom looked exasperated.
As I walked downtown, after taking leave from the housewarming party, I was overtaken by Miss P in the family car packed full with Texans. This isn't as strange as it sounds. I was picked up and went with Miss P to her house, which we left, as we had just dropped off the car. We went to the Imperial, which is not usually the place to find me on a weekend night, excepting Sundays, which are really week nights in their own right. Upon arriving, I discovered plenty of people I liked were there. Here is where it gets awkward though, here is the purpose for this particular blog entry:
Mr. CPP is there, and whether I have mentioned it here or not - I tend to be fairly vague for the sake of myself and those mentioned - Mr. CPP has a child. Consequently, Mr. CPP also has a baby-mama. He and baby-mama are still friends, which is great, because being friends with people is great. It was baby-mama's birthday, so she and various friends had dressed up (but with Xtra-Tufs) and gone out to dinner and then to the Imperial. Baby-mama is a friend of Miss P, of Mr. CPP, and undoubtedly many other people I know, but baby-mama is a name and a concept and a face but not a friend of mine. Miss P asked if I had met her, if I wanted to meet her, and if it would be ok if she introduced us right now even though baby-mama is chatting with Mr. CPP/baby-daddy. I said, "sure?" It was the most enthusiastic response you could get out of the current not-girlfriend of the ex/baby-daddy, Mr. CPP, of the intended introductee. Miss P bounded up to baby-mama, while I followed meekly. Miss P rattled off an introduction. An introduction that was followed not with any sort of recognition of my person but with excited chatter about something completely unrelated. I'm guessing baby-mama didn't particularly want to meet the not-girlfriend of baby-daddy/Mr. CPP. Can I blame her? Not really.
And now, to continue down the slippery slope of awkwardness, we were at a bar and consuming alcohol. The affection we show each other grows exponentially with alcohol. When sober, you may not know we are more than acquaintances. When drunk, we get to a point where it might be considered obvious that we are not just friends. Perhaps it was awkwardness at baby-mama and not-girlfriend existing in the same (not big enough to contain the awkwardness) bar that triggered the progressed rate of drinking. Perhaps it was that drinking that made us slightly affectionate toward each other (did I kiss him on the cheek? Oh, I think I did). Perhaps it was us showing affection that made the presence of baby-mama and me that much more awkward. Oh, it's a slippery, slippery slope.
When bar-close was called, we playfully pushed each other around as we walked up the hill to my now cleaner abode (see entry about cleaning). When we made it home, I stopped at the bathroom and upon reaching my room, discovered Mr. CPP in bed and buried in blankets. Not feeling quite so well as on the walk home, he announced it was time to just go to sleep, so we did. Awkward evening ended in fighting over the one pillow on my bed while slumbering (I have another, it was just on the couch). We slept off the effects of the alcohol and then parted ways for work come (late) morning.