Dahhhhling /BS

Maybe it’s just me, but the place exploded like an atom sending dust particles of hem and haw. Drinks were poured and sloshed toasting. Like it was a fad going out of style, emphasis on the Daaaahhhhling. Glasses were broken as the free vodka ran out. A virus of knock off Louis Vitton and cheap Prada were the rage. Like I said, maybe it’s just me, but I prefer my sandals and flip flops to Gucci, Prada, or Louis Vitton it’s all so passé and easy. Like Tiffany jewelry. It’s a safe bet when all the chips are down place your money on the highest ranked. Over priced and unimaginative, but safe. The safety school of style – stick with the basics, even if it’s fake. And smile as the girl who’s dating your ex glares at you from across the bar.
I lied – which I rarely do.

“BABY – so good to see you! I saw your name on the evite. Did you see mine and know I was going to be here?”

Tapping my foot and feeling the breeze across my sandals, “Yes, baby I did.”

I lied

I wonder if I am one of those, which I know I am. We all are. Standing there with our oh so pretty friends, oh him, yeah I know him do you? It’s her clothing line, she owns the store down the street. I am friends with the bar owner. I know the rockets players, yeah him, we used to date. Oh yeah – well….

I wonder if we are ever really happy or if we look for the safety school. Sticking with the basics. I don’t like the basics, they are over priced and lack substance. Mom says, “basic is black and boring – anyone can wear black, it takes style to wear color.”
The routine of life as we strap ourselves in with a harness not taking the chance and betting on the lesser known. He may break my heart and I may not get into grad school but it won’t be imitation or lies. It will be all new full of color and tears, free falling baby – that’s what it’s about.

Don't call me Dahhling