Last Sunday night I went to a screening of Burlesque with my friend Heather. It was a charity event that benefited Project Angel Food, and it’s quite possible that Heather and I were two of the only straight people in the theater.
I wasn’t particularly dressed up, good jeans and a cashmere sweater. I wasn’t wearing any makeup, but I felt good.
When I saw Heather she, of course, looked amazing, and she told me I looked good too. It’s what girlfriends do.
After the movie Heather ran into the ladies room and I sat on the benches outside waiting for her. A nice lady sat down next to me and started talking to me about my boots, and then she complimented my hair, and then she asked me who I came here with and then I realized she was hitting on me.
And then I felt pretty.
Because I’m shallow.
I was giggling with Heather, “Oh my gawd I think a lesbian was hitting on me.” and because I’m shallow I added, “do you think it’s because my boots are not super feminine or because I’m having a good hair day.”
“You look beautiful. I told you that when I saw you tonight.” Heather said, “Why don’t you listen to me?”
“Because you don’t want to sleep with me, so it doesn’t count.”