saturday

Well, hell, people. I spent every spare moment of Sunday waiting (with Charlotte hanging over my shoulder) for everyone to blog every detail and here you are almost all fricking mute. Yes, we met. Yes, we are all real now and it feels funky to say stuff about one another. Yes, we had a lovely time. But for heavens sake, people – DISH! What did you do? Who did you talk to? Who surprised you? And most importantly, what did you think of MEEEEE?

So a few of you broke the ice and mentioned it online and that is excellent. So now I will just write the whole damn night and what I did and who I talked to. I did not talk to all of you. I met all of you, but a big group does now allow absolutely everyone to become best friends. I have spent the last 24 hours trying to figure out how to blog about some of you while worrying that the ones I don’t blog about will feel like, "Yeah, but didn’t she like me, too?" If I talk about how much I liked one person, won’t a bunch of other people be all 7th-8th-9th gradish and think, "Hmph – she totally didn’t like me" ? Well. Crap. That happens. We are NOT however, actually IN middle school. We are grown-ups who know how a fricking party works, particularly one where there are a good number of babies needing tending to and taking to and from food and naps and such. And where another good number keep disappearing to collect themselves and/or smoke and drink a lot. We were not all going to be able to become best real life confidantes. C’est la vie. Hopefully everyone met someone new and spilled some details and connected in the real life way after so, so long of the virtual connection being so strong. Even if it just happened with one person, that is lovely. And we should all be proud of ourselves for going at all. Especially the shy and the NYC-scared.

Now then.

I wil start by saying that I didn’t mean to bring Wes to my opening event, the trip to Fairway. But we went to look at a house and then we needed gas and then we dropped off the dry cleaning and before I knew it, it was time to pick up Cali and Charlotte and Lo. With Wes still in the car. Wes, who would have preferred to not touch a gathering of bitter women with a ten thousand foot pole. In the car with us. To Red Hook. Heh.

In order to escape us, he did ALL of the grocery shopping I had previously agreed to do (I did have to promise to do it for the next 3 weeks) while we got coffee for Cali’s wicked hangover on the lovely patio overlooking the Statue of Liberty. I needed these people to come to Fairway with me, you see, because it was going to help unruin it. Any time I can get some new people and new memories associated with something that I used to love but now dread – yes, please.

It was exceedingly weird to sit with people and try to use their real names AND to suddenly realize that you don’t even know the real name of someone’s child when you have been blogging with them for many months. Online, we accept and use the names and codes we are given, so it was funny to learn about Charlotte’s kid and to tell them GMB’s name.

After Fairway, we went back to my place to meet up with Co and so that I could change into the Anthr*pologie dress and the new boots-that-fit-my-calves. And throw make-up on, although I will say that after carefully considering my wardrobe and grooming for a couple of weeks, I didn’t even shave my legs before we went and my make-up was an extremely speedy affair covering approximately none of my facial blemishes or blotches. You see, at that point I didn’t actually care anymore, preferring to keep ducking my head out of the bathroom so I could hear what people were saying (not wanting to miss ANYthing) and to watch them try not to laugh at the unexpected charm of my beautiful 16 year old GMB (charming to OTHER people besides his parents, I mean).

Then we were off. Charlotte and I sat a little bit away from Cali, Lo and Co since there wasn’t a lot of room on the subway. I was working on hole punching and attaching ribbon and safety pins to the nametags. And then we started talking therapy….

And then Co was somehow outside the train and tapping on the window. We were transferring. Except we weren’t transferring, not Charlotte and I, because the doors were already closed.

Luckily, Cali, Lo and Co came to a pretty quick conclusion that I was not the type of person to be overly concerned with coming back to them. "Knowing" me as well as they do, they knew I would just keep going (and beat them there, heh). The one problem was that I didn’t have the address or the phone number of where we were going. And Wes wasn’t home. So we were standing around in East Harlem, where I have never been before, and then I realized that LaGiulia, home sick with twin-given stomach flu, would have it and so I meanly called her and her Uomo to ask for it even though it could really be seen as rather insensitive to call someone for an address when that person wishes they could be there and can’t. But I never said I was sensitive. (So sorry, LaG – we so, so missed you).

So. Between the Fairway and the make-up and the GMB chatter and the subway disaster and the multiple, mutiple transfers I took poor Charlotte on (R to the S to the 5 to the 6), we didn’t arrive until an hour after the designated start time. We walked into this giant basement room in Shelli and Narda’s  nice new building and… there were just so many people! And I didn’t know who some of them were! And they totally knew who I was! I walked around and hugged the few people I did know and then looked helplessly at everyone else (some of whom I have seen pictures of over the years, but it was overwhelming to the point that I wasn’t sorting things out that fast). "I don’t know who any of you are," I said.

"That’s because you have the nametags," someone pointed out pointedly.

Right.

So I ran to finish the nametags and set them out and then, slowly, names connected with faces (all of whom are far cuter than photos could ever do justice) and stories and things started to be OK. Especially because I brought a lot of wine. And because I had already decided that I would be allowed to smoke at this thing. It’s (hopefully) my Latest Last Hurrah, after all. Period… should be arriving… any minute now (hello?).

And smoking at something like this, something where there are a ton of cute babies crawling around in a totally cute baby corner, immediately makes you a badass hardcore naughty unhealthy bitter bitch. And that means you get to find out who the other naughtiest smokers and ex-smokers are. And that means you get some friends faster. It’s a perk of the whole killing yourself with nicotine thing. But it was interesting that so many people managed to be a part of the naughty group just as ex-smokers because they were willing to stand among us while we were smelly. Nice. Impressive will-power AND the need to be part of the Bad Crowd. Kudos.

So here’s where I will just go ahead and sing someone’s praises and the rest of you will just have to be grown up enough to trust that I loved you, too because I am not going to gush about everyone. I do not gush. But I will gush for thee, Jennifer, who I hereby proclaim Angriest Bitch and whom I found to be a delicious bitter surprise wrapped up in an adorable Canadian accent and killer boots.

So I’ll just keep going with my grown-up self and comment about a couple of other things. We all know that we have closer relationships with some of our online buddies than others. Some of us email a lot and therefore grew closer before real life meeting. For me, I was extremely excited to meet the people I email a lot and therefore feel close to and that meant I needed a big, superdose of Charlotte and Cali and Trista. OK. Watch me be perfectly honest. Charlotte is the newer of those friends but Wes wanted her. Wes loves her because she comments so nicely and politely and intelligently when things have to do with him and he specifically requested that she be in our home at some point. And Wes, somehow able to judge character through a sentence here and there, was right because BOY did we click. But let me get back to telling things in proper order.

So the party was good. I didn’t eat ONE BITE of any of the mountainous mountain of food. I drank countless cups of wine. I smoked a couple of cigarettes with the bad kids. I played 2 Truths and a Lie (Wes later saw pictures of this part of the evening and said, "That’s what you did? You sat around in a big circle on uncomfortable chairs and looked at each other?" Yes, dear. That’s what we did.). I had a few good chats with Trista while Julia was asleep upstairs. And then it was time for Julia to wake up and come meet everyone.

OK. Just keeping going with the honesty. There were a ton of cute babies there. One walked around even, which makes me a sucker for him because toddling is just killer to me (Wes totally gushed over a picture I couldn’t resist taking of Charlie, Estelle). But I didn’t really want much to do with the babies. I haven’t even seen LaG’s twins since The Fetus Formerly Known as the Penguin died. It makes me feel guilty and terrible and I miss them (and am now ready to see them when they stop puking), but I hadn’t been ready to deal with babies. And I felt quite solidly sure that I still wasn’t ready to deal with babies. And so I smiled at them and chatted with their moms. And that was fine.

I don’t know why I felt the need to cross the room and take Julia out of the arms of another person. I really don’t. As I was doing it, I felt out of my own control and shocked at myself; "What the hell are you doing, Bri??" was going through my head. But I did. I picked her up and held her. And she stared at me with her extremely serious (sleepy?) little face and examined me and studied me and considered me. And then I started to cry. Messy, unstoppable tears streaming down my face. And I was embarrassed as hell. For a second. But then I remembered where I was. And it was fine. Especially because my new therapist Charlotte was standing at my side and talking me through it. And because all the other people around me didn’t look away or pretend I was invisible or make me feel like there was anything strange at all going on. And because I kept looking to her moms to apologize and they seemed completely unconcerned. But I was still really worried that I might freak out the baby, that Julia would not want a random, weeping stranger to hold her. And so I tried to pass her off to someone else. And this is where things went strange. She would not. let. go. of me. She grabbed on tighter and didn’t want to leave my arms. So I just kept holding her and sobbing. And THEN… she started humming. And this is where I start to believe in all the woo-woo weirdness that Trista espouses. Because the noise that she was making was exactly like this noise that Wes has told me about, a noise that was made by the rocking chair when he was a nursing infant, the noise that his mom continued to make while holding him and rocking him as a kid, the noise that sometimes comes out of Wes when he is comforting me, the noise we now use as a soft, humming, Zen calming mechanism. A little moaning hum. Repetitive and lowlowlow. And baby Julia was making this noise at me to calm me down. And it worked.

That was the most interesting moment of the party for me.

Eventually, this part of the evening wound down and we headed downtown for a drink. Trista said that they might be trying to come out and join us after Julia went to sleep and this is the part of the evening where I/we am/are shmucks. We should have just waited for her. To be prefectly honest, I was out.of.my.mind and not my usual shouting, group-organizing self or I might have thought it all through. And on top of that, I just somehow didn’t believe that they’d be able to get away and get on the subway and come join us. I UNDERESTIMATED TRISTA a little bit. And also did I mention that her daughter freaked my shit out and I wasn’t in my right mind? So there was that.

We went downtown but the bar where we had meant to go was too crowded. And someone spotted another across the street that had plenty of room. And $8 vodka and cranberry, of course. But that was OK because I really only intended to be out with the babyless and bitter for one drink and then I wanted to go back to Brooklyn where things are cheap. But I am so, so grateful that Sophia and her giant posse of houseguests came to Union Square with us because I got to connect a bit more with J. and her girl and that was something that just needed to happen because her CD is my favorite in the CD club and my CD is her favorite and that obviously means something matches deep inside of our souls. So that was good.

It was so, so good to meet all of you people. Seriously. Thank you guys for repeatedly being the thing that keeps me going. Thank you to all who traveled to get here. And thank you to my NY women for so beautifully hosting the event and the sleepovers and for being around all the time in case I need you.

And then the Brooklyn contingent went back to Brooklyn.

Meanwhile, Trista the Underestimated was trying to call. And some of our cell phones were off or dead or not on our bodies to alert us to their vibrating. And some of us were kind of drunk and not really aware of whose area code that could be. And someone either didn’t leave a message or it didn’t come through. And by the time someone got a hold of Wes, some other people were on the subway back to Brooklyn and couldn’t be reached. And some people from Utah who claimed to be terrified of New York TOOK THE SUBWAY to Union Square to look for us based on little more than Wes’ vague notion of where we were. And that means some Utah-ans (?) get the award for Bravest Act of the Weekend. And more of our deepest, most sincere apologies for missing you (NOT DITCHING) and so, so much sadness that we didn’t get to hang out more.

And then it was back to me and Cali and Charlotte and Lo and Co. Drinking in my neighborhood (ahhhhhh…..) and me getting progressively messier until I was forcing poor Co into crying with me over harsh dead parent stuff and then even later weeping through a string of conversations with Cali and Charlotte that I only sort of remember. I didn’t black out or anything. I just… talked out. I think I literally had too many conversations to remember them all.

It was like my first date with Wes when we talked until 3 in the morning. Only with less sex.

So there you have it. Saturday. Some (very minimal, faces-blocked-out) pictures to come.

So seriously. What did you think of me?

PS – Also, we missed GMB’s plane on Sunday because A) marathon B) traffic C) hangover leading to timekeeper (ie, me) not picking the right time to leave the house. Wes and GMB spent 5 hours at JFK riding the AirTrain to various terminals to shop at Cartier and Hermes.

PPS – CONGRATULATIONS ASIA AND JEREMY on your 2nd marathon!

PPPS – I have to totally redo my blog links now. I know more of you.