Last week was utterly fab with Jersey Laura. I can’t even begin to describe the extent of which nothing terrible happened, and fun was had by all. On one night, she surprised me by taking me to an Indian restaurant with a live Sitar player, and, being as adorable as she is, needed help picking out what to eat because she’d never had Indian food before. And afterwards, we went on another adventure, trying to get into the infamous “Death and Company” in the Lower East Side, which was packed—so we instead ended up at the new Cuban rum bar, “Cienfuego” decorated like some kind of 18th century Catholic chapel. Can I just say there’s something really funny, yet perverse, about making googly eyes at a girl in a place that reminds me of church?
We both remarked about how well things were going, how different our dates were from the other crazies we encountered.
“I went on a date with a woman who asked if she could bring her sister,” said Laura. “She said she was her ride home because she had her license taken away. But not to worry! It was ONLY taken away for three DUIs. Not one…three!”
And so, with things going so well, it was eventually time for that nerve-wracking moment of truth that occurs when dating is actually fun—meeting your date’s BFF’s. I was so nervous about this, because I feel like it’s just as important (and scary!) as meeting somebody’s mother. But nonetheless, readied myself to meet Laura’s close circle of friends.
“You have nothing to be worried about,” said Laura. “We are all nerds, and in fact we were so obsessed with Lost that we had a big dinner and called it ‘The Lost Supper’ to celebrate the season finale.”
So we decided to all meet up and go to the Nowhere bar. I was pleasantly surprised to find them all hilarious, non-intimidating, and very sweet to me. Her entourage included two gal pals, Joann and Alex, along with a totally adorb gay boy, Jean-Pierre, who was anxious about meeting an online date for the first time at the bar.
“So ya wrote the blog on Jersey Girls?” said her friend Joann, chewing some gum. “I like ya!”
“Yeah, we like you ‘cause you like Jersey! Whooo!” said Alex.
“I loved the blog ya wrote on Laura. I felt like I was on a date with her.” Said Joann, grinning.
And then the group all cheered an emphatic, “Heeeyyyy!” in a way that made me think of Fonzie’s “Heyyyy!” which caused me to burst out laughing.
“So is this place gay?” I asked Laura.
“Well I don’t know. Apparently it’s gay. But it’s not,” she said. “I googled it. People say it’s an ‘untapped gay resource’ and I’m not sure what that means.”
So we arrived at Nowhere, we met more of her friends until our party doubled in number, and I remarked upon the gigantic bedazzled penis hanging above the coat check.
“This place is an untapped gay resource? That is the gayest thing I have ever seen,” I said. She laughed.
We all got on the dance floor. I was nervous, and I think my “dancing” was more of a two step “shuffling.”
“What, you need something to drink to get your dance on?” said Laura.
“Yeah, I think so,” I said.
We went to the bar.
“I want to get shots for everybody. How about buttery nipples?”
“Uh, okay.” Laura motioned for the bartender to come over. “Hey uh…can I get 8 buttery nipples?” she said.
We immediately both burst out laughing at how ridiculous this sounded, if not for the surplus of nipples, for the fact that we, two women, looked like crazy alcoholics for ordering not two, but eight. The bartender didn’t have enough ingredients to make eight, so we settled on Washington Apples.
“Okay! Okay! Everyone come here. We’ve got eight shots that we need to, uh, distribute to everyone,” said Laura.
“Heyyyyyyy!” they said, once more, doing the Fonzie cheer.
So now, I was feeling good, and now, I was getting comfortable, talking to her friends about all manner of geekery, in-between making out and snuggling with Laura, who couldn’t stop laughing at the tacky red lighting and random 70’s music being spun by the DJ. Even Jean-Pierre seemed to be doing well with his Internet date, and we glanced at him smiling and having a good time across the room.
So then, Laura and I got on the dancefloor and Joann demonstrated some fist pumping. With vigor and passion, she punched the air above her head to what may have been “Night Fever” by the Bee Gees.
And suddenly—without warning, while gettin’ down, Joann’s fist arced into a smooth uppercut and accidentally split my lip. Yes, unanticipated by us all, my date’s BFF had just accidentally punched me in the face to disco music. The taste of blood slowly started to fill my mouth.
“Uh…ah…I’ve got to go to the bathroom,” I said.
I rushed off and started dabbing at the gash in the mirror, trying to stop the bleeding. Laura followed, totally confused.
“What just happened?”
“Oh, Joann accidentally punched me in the face, it’s totally cool.”
I turned to Laura and the blood was welling up.
“Well…I…can…hardly even tell that it’s there!” she said, trying to be positive. I continued dabbing at the wound.
“Oh god! I’m never going to hear from you again!” she wailed.
“You’re so going to blog about this on Single in the City and say you’re dating someone who is friends with a…a FACEPUNCHER and I’m never going to see you again!”
I just burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“This!” I said. “It’s all hilarious! What better soundtrack to be punched in the face to?”
Laura started laughing too, and then, what did she do? She kissed the blood off of my lip, extra bonus to all you Twilight/True Blood fans.
I emerged from the bathroom.
“She’s okay,” said Laura.
“Oh my God, I am so sorry, I am so, so sorry,” said Joann, who was now tearing up with guilt for having accidentally injured me. “Come on, let’s get pizza. I’ll buy ya a slice. ‘Cause that’s what people from Jersey do when they accidentally punch ya in the face.”