It's like Sex and the Suburbs and 30 Rock all rolled into one…
About a year ago a good friend and I went out on the town. We wanted to have a few cocktails and talk girlie stuff. As she happens to look very similar to me, in fact we’ve been mistaken for each other more than a few times, we have what we call the Doppleganger Bond. It’s a strong and strange bond, one in which we can go months without seeing each other and then be best friends. It also means we sometimes get hit on. But most of the time, we just drink cocktails, eat gourmet food and trade good news from common friends. And sometimes talk about Mad Men.
Things at one bar were winding down, and even though it was getting late, neither of us wanted to end the night. We had just met a nice young man in law school, and were enjoying the conversation. He wasn’t hitting on us, and we thought he was pretty interesting. For some reason or another, I decided that karaoke was mandatory and we trucked in the cold and slush to Waterworks. Big mistake. While my look-alike and I are queer allies, despite the kid’s protests, he seemed very uncomfortable in a gay bar, even though the karaoke there draws everyone. He definitely wanted to leave, but couldn’t figure out how to get back to his apartment. In the split second we took to decide to walk him back home, I never had a chance to use the bathroom. And I had to pee.
When we approached his place, I perked up as there was no way I was making it home. We had done him the valuable service of seeing him to his apartment so I thought that a quick bathroom trip was not unfair to ask of. He let us into his apartment, warning us to be quiet because he didn’t want his landlady to ask him why he had brought girls back. This should have been a clue we should have left. But upon entering, he offered us tea and took our coats. I went to the bathroom, and noticed there was nothing to wipe with. While I searched for tissues or something, he told my friend this. He said, “I don’t know what you girls are expecting to happen tonight, but I think you should probably leave.” As I left the bathroom, my coat was handed to me and I was more than a little puzzled. As we were ushered out the door – he didn’t even walk us down the stairs – I asked what had happened. Apparently nothing – they had merely only talked about her perhaps wanting to go to law school.
But oh, I got my revenge. I said a bit loudly that I was freaked out that everything in his apartment had come from Wal-Mart. See, as I searched for something to clean myself with, I noticed that his entire apartment was furnished from Wal-Mart, even the knick-knacks! And yes, I realize that this should have been clue number two to flee.