Stepping Out

Combing through my brainpan, I came across a memory that had been neatly shuffled away for decades…ahem…years. Aside from having me baffled as to why my mind suddenly felt obliged to bring this particular recollection to the forefront, I was also curious as to the purpose it served by reminiscing on the event? Shrugging it off, I proceeded to file it under, “Who cares?” I later found myself thinking about the adventure again. Was it nothing more than RAM, or was there something deeper going on in my subconscious? I decided my best course of action was to re-examine the memory and delve into the variable possibilities that could be hiding within its retelling.  

I found myself back in a period of my life that had me evaluating my relationship status. That would be the serious lack thereof. I was determined, on that particular day, to remedy this unfortunate circumstance only to find that I was woefully ill-prepared to do so and thus began my journey into rectifying the situation.

First it began with my wardrobe. I looked through my closet, floor and all, only to find that I was lost as to what a person should wear to attract a potential partner. Being the conscientious being that I am, I called for reinforcement. Upon my friend’s arrival, a thorough inspection of my mate-catching, evening-appropriate garments ensued. Somehow, I wound up at the local mall inside a chic modern clothing store talking to a tween-something girl chewing gum. I think he drove. After what seemed several hours of trial and error in the outfitters department, not to mention smirks and snarky remarks from said tween, I had what I believed to be appropriate attire for an evening out. It only cost me $300.00. I was assured this was not a bad price to pay for the new look and it was interchangeable with other things I had back home. Namely, the one pair of jeans my friend didn’t discard. What did he call it? Oh, yes, “…a base to build the rest of your wardrobe upon…” In my mind, I already had a wardrobe. Apparently, I was wrong.

Next, we moved onto my physical image. Now, I didn’t think there was anything particularly wrong with my appearance. At least, nothing that a good cleansing wouldn’t take care of. I felt, and still feel, that I am not that bad looking of a person. Again, my friend felt obligated to tell me my thinking was somewhat erroneous. Evidently, I needed some help “accentuating my outward mien” and, again, he was readily eager to help me do so. Which begs the question; why is he just now telling me this??? Anyway, back to the story. Off I was whisked to a place that conveniently was willing to take care of me. My friend, he knew people. I realized that day, for the right amount of money, anything can be fixed. And so it was, with my hair and my nails and my brows and, well, never you mind. But…it was all fixed. I had the right cut and color, the perfectly manicured and pedicured extremities, and all the products that had, apparently, been missing in my life. By the time I left this salon of beautification, I felt so much…well… just lighter, as did my wallet. But I looked fantastic! At least that’s what my friend and the people in the shop said. Which is good because that was the goal.

Back at the apartment, I relieved my “friend” from his duty. After having someone eagerly spend my money for me, I felt confident that I was now ready to take care of the rest of my body. For only the second time in this process, I was alone. The pressure was palpable. Now…don’t you worry, this last step is not taken out of order. My nails weren’t colored-not my thing-and my hair was covered by the one thing in my shower with a hole in the appropriate place. I am almost certain someone else left it there because I do not recall ever purchasing such an object, but it was there, and I needed it. Unfortunately, I discovered the only cleansing artifact I had was a hard dried out yellowish piece of something in my shower hanger that may have once identified itself as soap. That would never do. How my “friend” managed to miss realizing this little nugget of information, I’ll never know. He was so thorough with everything else. Sooo, I made an executive decision and off I went to the local drug store on the corner and procured something more appropriate called “body wash”.  Of course, I had to be extra vigilant even in that department. I didn’t want the scent chosen for the body wash fighting with the other products that had been gifted, at an astronomical cost to me, by the beauty shop. Nope, can’t have that. So, there I stood for over half an hour sniffing body washes until I was politely asked to stop. Having made what I felt was the correct decision, I ambled on back home and began the finishing touches on my enhanced look. 

And there I was. All suited up and ready to go! Damn I looked good! I have to admit, my “friend” may have been right about a couple of things. Just one minor problem. Go where and with whom? Okay…two minor problems. Again, I would need to call for reinforcements. It was the weekend. Certainly, I could find people to accompany me on this venture. Surely, I had friends who were as anxious as I to end my drought. But which friends to call? A person has to be very selective about the choices in this matter. You need to surround yourself with a fitting group of friends. The last thing anyone wants to do is call friends who are in the same boat as you, or to be overshadowed by friends who are more attractive and gregarious than you. You need this evening to about you and you alone! No, no, no, no, no! This must be handled very delicately.

Fortunately, I knew just the group to call. The perfect blend of support. Not too good looking and not nearly as desperate. And so, the arrangements were made. The spot was picked. The hour was chosen. Now, before you go half-cocked at how this is something an introvert would even consider, please keep in mind a few things: 1) I had yet to fully embrace my introverted-ness, 2) just because I’m an introvert doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with anyone ever, just not everyone and their second cousin once removed on the mother’s side, and 3) even introverts need physical connectivity on occasion. Still confused? See reason number one. So, back to the tale. The night progressed as planned. And people got laid. And that was about it. After all that work. Oh, c’mon! Think about it. Most serious relationships don’t occur in that type of atmosphere. Especially for introverts. It’s only meant as an ego boost to get you feeling better about yourself on the inside by looking good outwardly while simultaneously having those around you reinforce your self-worth based upon those outward appearances. It’s a jumping board to better things. I’m not saying that’s good or bad. It just is. There’s nothing wrong with feeling good about yourself because you look good. Nor is there anything wrong with making yourself feel good by looking good. Sometimes it’s just what a person needs at that moment in time. In the meantime, all those purchased products will succumb to the same fate as the chip of soap I found in the shower. Unused and in dire need of replacement.

Which brings me back to my initial ponderance; Why, as an introvert, did my brain choose to revisit this incident now? Is there a part of me that’s searching for self-glorification through others? Am I simply remembering a time in life when self-worth and image seemed a little easier to acquire? Am I feeling a strange need to relive this? If I were to contemplate reliving the experiences of yesterday, would the results be the same or upsettingly disappointing? Am I lamenting the loss of youth through the memory of a self-imposed hardship that was easily resolved? Or maybe, just maybe, it’s my brain telling me that it’s okay to have happy thoughts. Stop feeling the need to over analyze them. Time to refile this under, “Hey, that was fun. What’s next?”