OYM Day 91: Sierra
The final stretch is here. In that spirit, I am trying to stretch out the last 10 stories a bit so that the new OYM&TrustMe logos will be ready in time for the big finish. I hope you’ll love them as much as I do.
I must’ve changed my outfit 5 times. Leggings and a loose blouse, jeans and a tucked in t-shirt, a blazer I got from a resale shop in Chicago and a cropped pair of Levi’s. I settled for an oversized white, sheer button up and dark wash skinny jeans. I threw on a belt, my daily gold jewelry, and one hint at my personality: an updated take on soft, black leather motorcycle boots. My hair was bouncy and curled in waves, giving me an uncharacteristically friendly and approachable appearance. It’s not that I’m unfriendly. It’s just that I normally wear black and out myself first as not wanting to be there.
I took a shot of tequila and grabbed my keys.
I had lived in Las Vegas for a year already and had yet to meet a single friend. I worked from home and my only weekly interactions were with my husband, the grocery store clerk, and the checkout guy at my local Michael’s craft store.
Picture it: I’m unloading 25 tiny boxes, holiday craft paper, glue, paint, glittery ribbons, and a large canvas onto the check out conveyor belt at Michaels. I’m in my house slippers, mascara under my eyes, and a shirt that says “Surfs up, Satan.” What can I say, I’m a walking contradiction.
I had decided to use all of my new found free time making an advent calendar. Sure, I could have bought one for $25 at Target, but why not spend dozens of hours and $92 making my own?
The checkout guy, in a sweet Texas accent: Are you making this for your school?
Him: For your kids?
Him: For your church?
Me: Unfortunately, no, again.
Him: Well… well, bless your heart.
It was shortly after this low-point encounter that I decided to join Meetup.com, a website used to organize online and in-person groups of similar interests. I made a bare-bones user profile and began searching the groups in my area. Hiking clubs, mom clubs, bridge clubs, and even cringeworthy groups like “wild nights out for girls” and “fur baby lovers.” I joined the hiking club and looked through pictures of middle aged women standing on rocky peaks, smiling. I imagined myself in the picture with them, except I’d be giving a thumbs up and falling off the side of the mountain. The lengths I’ll go to for a good photo…
About a week later I got an email from Meetup. “Somerset Girlfriends” had sent me an invitation to join. It was an invitation-only group with a truly riveting set of rules.
- Must be a young professional female
- Must be in a serious relationship or married
- Must live within the Somerset area
- Must be between the ages of 25–35
- Must be drug free and no drama
- Must have disposable time and income for weekend getaways and girls trips.
- All others need not apply to the group.
Apply to the group?
I had been invited.
The whole thing seemed ridiculous to me. Who do these women think they are? Living in Somerset was a mistake. I should have lived in the city center and not some uppity-pseudo-posh-suburb. I’m not a Stepford wife! My mind wandered back to my frivolous craft projects and weekly baking episodes…and me, sitting idly by the door, like a dog, waiting for my husband to come home, so I could talk to somebody. Anybody.
I was bored.
I clicked accept and not an hour later, I received my first party invitation and marked my calendar.
Part 2: tomorrow…