And then I got the invitation.
It's a toga party.
Okay, I know I don't need to tell you that once I was holding that invite in my hand, it dawned on me that (1) I just could not go by myself and (2) I (and this mystery date) would have to wear a toga.
Since I've banished sex from my life in the pursuit of pure romance, I've found that I have very few possibilities for a decent escort. And let me say right now, that I am not following my own life advice. See, I think that women and men should always have someone they can call on who can serve as an escort par excellence. Doesn't matter if you're taken, single or stupid, you always need someone suitable to take to certain events; whether those events be work related or former crush hosted. You need someone who won't scare small children, can keep a fairly decent conversation going with strangers and won't hang on to your leg instead of doing what good escorts do -- fetch your drinks, charm everyone at the table, tantalize the opposite sex while earning the envy of their own.
As of today, I have no such stalwart to call upon.
So, I started thinking about it - who was I gonna ask to escort me to this soiree? First, I went to my work buddy Chris. Chris can make anybody laugh, he's tall, smart and reliably charming.
He turned me down cold. Didn't even think about it. He said his body is not ready for a toga and nobody's ready to see his body in one. Maneli (skinny gal - one of my assistants, you remember) and I shot each other a look; we knew who we thought would look just fine in a toga.
So, then I went to youngster Kyle. Now, the fact that he has a girlfriend gave me a little pause; but hey, this wasn't a romantic endeavor - it was a psyche saving mission! Kyle, bless his heart, at first said yes, he'd be happy to help me out. He added that his body wasn't ready either, but he was game. That's my Kyle - young, gullible and ready to throw down. I breathed a sigh of relief.
And then he checked his Blackberry.
Sorry, he had something involving a salsa class, lots of people and weeks in the making on the night in question. See, I told you he was ready to throw down.
Back to square one.
My last option -- the one I would like most and least, was left staring me in the face. I had to ask Mr. Casablanca. Of course, first I asked all of my girlfriends if they thought I should. And pox on them - they all said, "hell yeah!"
As if on cue, I caught another cold. It's not like I wanted to ask him on the phone (with a scratchy voice and cough). I wanted, actually, had to ask him in person. And, I had to look good. That doesn't happen when you're sick, know what I mean? So, I stayed home and nursed myself back to, ah, okayness. Today, as time was getting short and I had a meeting, I decided to go in - without contact lenses, heels, skirt or copious amounts of make up. In short, I looked very weekendy - a no date weekend, I might add. I had resigned myself to being plain and that, perhaps, would indicate that this "date" wasn't really a date, but more like a humanitarian mission.
Made me feel better when one of my tenants said I looked great, even if I was sick. Okay, so I didn't look as bad as I felt. Check. I was desperate to not go to this thing alone. Check. I was prepared for him to turn me down flat. Check. He was not my first choice for this mission. Check. No reason to hesitate now.
I started out, "I wouldn't normally ask this..." I explained it was a party that my high school crush was giving, with his ridiculously beautiful wife. He said yes without hesitation.
Then I informed him it was a theme party. A toga party. And he smiled, "I'll have to think about that one -- let me think about it."
This toga thing was undoing me. I offered to bribe him with dinner at my favorite Brazilian joint, Fogo de Chao - a meat lover's veritable heaven. Heck, I was ready to throw money at the man.
"Not you too! You'd be the third guy to turn me down! At least give me points for how hard it was for me to do this! Did I mention his wife is ridiculously beautiful?"
"Why would this be hard? You talk to me almost everyday"
You think he was mocking me?
"Cause this isn't something I'd normally do. Come on - remember your high school crush? And did I mention he has a stunningly beautiful wife? I can't go to this thing alone."
"I don't look so good in togas"
You mean he's tried on one before? And, no, he would look amazing in one.
"Oh come on, what was that about needing a tailor? I'll take care of the whole toga thing. Look," I showed him the email I'd sent to Chris earlier this morning with several examples of non-flesh baring togas as well as a historically accurate detail of who actually wore togas and how to wrap them. I was trying to convince myself as much as I was trying to convince him. Togas aren't so bad.
"Where'd you get all that from?"
"I Googled toga"
Have I mentioned lately that I love Google?
He still has to think about it.
So, there you have it DRs. This week, I asked three, count 'em, three men out. I got one no, one yes (and then a retraction) and one maybe. Think of it this way. If he says yes (BF says he will), I'll have the perfect excuse for a picture of both of us that I can post right here without worry. And I promise I will. In the meantime, I'm going forward with my toga search (women did not wear togas, but I guess I've got some creative, fashion license here, I'm sure they're not expecting women to come dressed as Vestal Virgins). Excuse me while I go Google "roman womens' hairstyles, wigs".There's no way I'm looking bad that night. And I am going. No matter what. I think I may take a page out Atia's play book - but then again, she just would have offered to fuck him until he couldn't walk straight and dared him to say no.
Not a bad plan of attack, if I say so myself.