Quiet Party? Not So hardy.

My dear friend Andrea is concerned about my status as a single gal. So much so that she frequently attempts to figure out ways to remedy this situation. One of the more recent ways she came up with was for us to attend a Quiet Party . I urge you to please look at the website so you have full knowledge of what we got ourselves into. Looks like they're having fun in those photos, eh? She thought I might find a nice boy who likes libraries. I thought, at the very least, we could have a little adventure. Well, let me tell you what we did find there.

First, I very nearly didn't even make it to the party. Andrea and her husband arrived ahead of me and texted me that it was "weird" and maybe I shouldn't come, but then they realized it was an event not to be missed. When I did arrive, there was a nervous, geeky looking man standing outside the upstairs entrance who asked me if I was looking for the Quiet Party. I was loathe to answer in the affirmative, but my bros were already in battle, awaiting back-up. I forked over the $10 (on top of a two drink minimum which didn't seem to be enforced by anyone), and ventured upstairs.

I was immediately reminded of Mistress Didi's fetish party that I went to with Becky a few months ago (which in turn had reminded me of the dungeon where I used to work). Maybe it was the low lighting, red decor, and bad ambient music, but more likely it was the creepy looking dudes widely scattered throughout the bar. Creepy soon morphed into sad and lonely. There were not many people there, and those were mostly men.

Supposedly note writing would enable people to communicate better, be more free and perhaps even naughty, but these guys were just sitting there, looking around, oh so sadly. Me, Josh, and Andrea furiously scribbled notes amongst ourselves regarding the bar (nice looking, sexy art), its patrons (sad, lonely at our party upstairs; happy, annoying at the bar downstairs), and whether to have Ethiopian, spaghetti, or Red Bamboo for dinner (Ethiopian; and by the way, YUM). Andrea threw in a scraggly penis drawing every now and again to keep things spicey.

Sitting directly across from us was Comic Book Guy. He seemed to be the least creepy, but possibly most lonely. He was also on the younger side, probably late twenties. He still has time to find his Comic Book Girl. There was a moderately creepy looking mid thirties guy in a polo shirt next to him, and on a couch a few feet away there were some Asian men and women. Apparently Andrea (Asian) got the stink eye from the ladies, since she was hotter and the dudes were eying her. Around the corner from our alcove seat was an older man in a cheap leather coat (maybe he got it for $99 on Orchard St.), early fifties perhaps, very sad and tired looking. Mostly tired. And then there were a couple of random women walking around, one wearing a god awful red pant suit, who stopped and hung out in our corner writing and giggling for about 15 minutes. We assume they were loving on Josh, the only dreamy looking boy in the place, but perhaps they finally noticed the wedding ring and went away.

We did not stay very long once I got there. Once we decided what to dine upon we had a foot out the door. And it was then that Comic Book Guy, oh sweet CBG, handed me a note. "I hope you aren't getting ready to leave. I just worked up the courage to say hi". Lord, did I feel awful. I let him down easy though, I was not a mean bitch like you all know I can be.

Honest to god, the whole thing was so heart breaking. All fifteen minutes of it. You will never find me at such an event again. Whatever happened to those make-out parties I used to hear about all the time??