How I almost got inducted into the Side Chick’s Hall of Shame
This story, like most dramatic stories in my life begins just before a friend’s wedding.
It was the opportunity of a lifetime. When I rewrite this, I’ll make a note that this was more like an opportunity of convenience: My best friend’s little brother was getting married and I was chosen to officiant their nuptials as a notary public.
I was looking fresh in my officiant’s best: a long white shapely dress with a beige blazer accompanied by a pair of gold shoes with rhinestones. I stood in the wedding hall with my small leather folder, microphone, and notes. The ceremony went smoothly. I announced the two as husband and wife, and soon the role was over. It wasn’t long after that my fancy blazer was off as the reception kicked off. With a glass of champagne in my hand, I swore I was putting down my best dance moves. Moving to the sounds of Latin music blazing through the speakers, I soon caught the attention of a groomsmen. For the sake of confidentiality, we will call him Joe.
Joe was a hispanic dude, about 5’8, dark hair, shaven, with a small goatee. He was assigned to my table. I peaked his interest due my educational status and of course my killer dance moves. We spend the whole night grooving on the dance floor, most of the time stepping on each other toes. He whispered in my ear, I would laugh then respond back. He told me about what he did for a living, auto mechanics and engineering; and asked what I liked to do for fun. A few times he would grabbed by my waist sensually sending a surge of rush through my spine. It had been a while. As a retired Backup Wife, I was not jumping back into the dating world, I was leaping with enthusiasm.
“Joe just asked me if you have a boyfriend,” Samantha, a friend whispered in my ear. I was so elated that I damn near jumped out of my seat.
“Tell him ‘no, I don’t have one’” I remarked to her.
“He’s going to ask you to dance,” she stated. I assumed that asking me dance came with a side order of asking for my number.
It wasn’t long before the slow music came on and I was forced to retreat. I watched as the couples scoot the singles off the dance floor as they slow danced to their heart contents. Samantha grabbed her husband as they held each other doing the Spanish two-step tango. I looked to them for inspiration. I could see the love and admiration they shared for one another. Samantha and her husband had been married for more than five years with their fair share of arguments, yet the love remained the same. It was then I vowed not to attend another wedding unless I could be accompanied by a partner. It was the simple reminder that everyone have found their love donut but me. Weddings were a celebration for love and I was didn’t know it was a formula that was missing until now.
I suppose Joe could feel the yearning in my eyes. As I sipping on my glass of water, fanning my face with a wedding program, he grabbed my hand and escorted me to the dance floor. As my arms wrapped around his neck, his hand slid down to my waist as we bounced back and forth. He asked me a series of questions about my life. I found it hard to answer questions and keep up. We soon found ourselves pausing and re-catching the steps again. The chemistry was all there, he was cute, polite and courteous. He made me laugh and we generally had a good time. It wasn’t long before the lights came on, the DJ spun his last mix and was packing up. It was time to go.
I was hopeful about Joe. We had chemistry and it was best story to tell people how we met…a friend’s wedding. I went running into the changing room to get into my go-home attire. After slipping into some striped shorts, a crisp white tee, and some sandals, I scurried to the hallway in search for Joe. I found him in the crowd with Samantha, her husband, the groom, and my best friend. They were discussing what the game plan was for the after party. I eyed Joe, eager to see if he would accompany us to the after party.
“Nah, I can’t go,” Joe remarked. I felt my heart sink a little.
“I don’t think I’ll have time. I have to pick up my girl from work—” is all I heard him say it became a foreign language.
My. Girl. From Work. Joe had a girlfriend? The words echoed in my mind. Suddenly, the images of the night began to flash through my thoughts. I wish he had mentioned girlfriend before he hand slyly touch my butt or even grazed my body. Had he mentioned a girlfriend at any time? …Of course not, I would have remembered dancing with someone’s boyfriend…it wasn’t like I gave impression like I wanted to be someone’s side chick. Side. Chick. I lowered my head in shame. Joe tried to induct me into the Hall of Shame.
I snapped back into reality.
“It was nice meeting you Kat,” Joe stated. He walked passed me attempting to corner me with a hug. I paused and stepped back.
“I’m sure,” I added walking passed him and back into the changing room. I shook my body disgusting by the notion.
Later, Samantha asked me how it went. I brought up the subject of Joe’s girlfriend.
“Yeah, but you’re such much better,” Samantha replied. If you could see the reaction on my face…it was priceless.
I felt like a cheap…like a side chick being inducted into the Hall of Shame.