Homebody

               In the late eighties, my wine of choice was Sutter Home- White Zinfandel. Three bottles for $10.00!  I bet anyone who drinks wine has a “Sutter Home- White Zinfandel” time period that looks nothing like their life does now.

          I happened to own a Fitness Studio and was going to school full time. I was single with two little girls (3 and 4 years old) and lived in a 2 room second floor walk-up.

          I went through a rough spot when I was unable to teach aerobics classes at the fitness studio or wear high heels without excruciating ankle and foot pain.  I crawled, hands and knees, up fifteen steps to get to my apartment and scootched down on my bum to get to the front door. The girls thought it was a game!

          When school was out for summer break, I finally had my ankle surgery. Two weeks into crutches, with my left leg in a cast, I was going bonkers. Going up and down the stairs was even harder than before because I had to drag my crutches along with me. I looked forward to the upcoming weekend when my ex would take the girls for two glorious nights. I was looking forward to the rest.

          Friday night, wine poured, popcorn popped, book in hand, leg stretched out and elevated on a pillow, I was down for the night.

          “Knock, knock.”

          Apparently, I didn’t lock the door at the bottom of the stairs because someone was already in, up the stairs and knocking on my kitchen door.  I sat there in the silence praying that the knocker would go away.

          “I know you’re in there because your car’s in the driveway,” my girlfriend Tammy said.

          By the time I got to the door, Tammy was sitting on the top step, filing her nails.

          “Took you long enough,” she said jumping up and pushing past me. “Get dressed we’re going out. You haven’t been out in months. You don’t have any homework and you don’t have the girls this weekend. We are going out. Just one drink and we’ll be back.”

          Now, I loved Tammy. But one had to be prepared to go out with Tammy. It took a lot of energy to go out with Tammy.

           “First of all, you never have just one drink. And, second of all, having no homework and no children is exactly why I want to stay in. Tam, I’m exhausted. Let’s hang out here, let’s play cards and drink wine.

          “We can do that tomorrow night,” Tammy said as she handed me a sundress and my toothbrush.

          We drove to a local watering hole. Tammy was sitting at the bar, already joking with the bartender by the time I hobbled up and pulled out the chair next to her.

          “No, no. Sit over there.” She pointed to the chair next to the chair I pulled out. “You need lessons on going out. Leaving a chair empty between us leaves tons of opportunities for meeting guys. They can lean in here to order a drink, they can ask to sit, at the very least they can strike up a conversation by asking one of us to move over.”

          I wanted to go home then.

          Within fifteen minutes, three guys were hanging around the one chair between us. Tammy was talking to all of them and giving them our drink order. The conversations were loud, and mostly irrelevant.

          Tammy and one of the guys were dancing in front of the bar. There was no dance floor, however, they were dancing, and there was a floor, but… you get the idea. I could hear them talking about her exceptionally long thick, blonde hair, then I heard Tammy laugh as she removed her exceptionally, thick blonde clip-in hair piece and said, “If you like it so much, you can have it.”

          She handed it to the guy, who draped it over his balding head. THEN, one of the other guys attempted to pull my cast off thinking that it too was for attention-getting purposes only.

          I did go home then.

          For the past 35 years, I have remained great friends with Tammy and we see each other when we can. Our “nights out” consist of card games and Cabernet. At my house.  With our husbands.