Sweating To Conclusions

So, you guys probably remember the neighbor who kept offering me coffee and wanted to stick his tongue in my mouth? And then, how he wanted to show me his golden rod later on? Yeah, unfortunately so do I.

And you probably remember the neighbor who kept trying to prop her fur burger on my leg? Yeah, unfortunately so do I.

And you may remember when the psycho, bigot Korean woman came over yelling at me after her dog attacked our dog and sent him running UNDERNEATH A TRAIN??? Yeah, unfortunately so do I.

And...you may remember me talking about Satan's bride that happens to be a neighbor as well? Yeah? Well, while I've been trying like mad to repress all the aforementioned memories... Will and I went to the "pre-opening" party of a restaurant last Saturday night here in Santa Barbara.

A neighbor of ours from New York invited us to his new place to have a preview of wine and food that he'll be serving.

And when we walked in, MANY of our neighbors were there. Most of the ones I like.

And one of the ones I don't.

As soon as we entered the restaurant, I immediately felt the putrid breath of hell brush my face and singe my skin.

INSTANTLY, I broke out into a sweat. AND I MEAN A SWEAT. As in, sweat began gathering at my forehead and that was all she wrote. Dignity was over as I once knew it.

Sweat began dripping, DRIPPING from my forehead, my nose, my armpits and arms, my hands, my stomach and back. I literally felt the sweat dripping down my crack. And the more I thought about it, the more drenched I became.

I was helpless. Pride and honor orphaned me.

It was truly unbelievable. I felt the sweat pouring down my legs. It was as though,

I were in the shower with my clothes on.

My skin was covered in condensation.

And I half expected to look down at the floor beneath me and see puddles forming.

And if I turned around, the rest of the people in the restaurant would look like this,

toasting to my demise.

So, besides talking at GREAT LENGTH to my nemesis WHILE PROFUSELY SWEATING, I was wearing light colored clothes. Yes, that's right. A light blue shirt and light gray trousers, which when sweating is the equivalent of tissue paper.

I watched in horror as tiny spots of sweat began to show through. I kept periodically looking down as those spots became larger and larger and larger. I just kept nervously drinking (gulping) more wine and sweating and my conversation was interspersed with me breaking out into inappropriate laughter proclaiming, "I'm a hot person! I sweat! When I was born, the nurse told my Mother that I'm sweater! And then I made my Mom cut out all the footies on my pajamas when I was a little tyke. Yeah! Yep! That's me! I just sweat, sweat, sweat! I'm like a furnace!"

Then she tried to make me feel better and said that she had a co-worker that was always sweating. Probably because he knew he shared an office with Satan's bride.

So, we continued talking, and I was just completely drenched and then, I said, "My goodness, look how much I'm sweating!" As if I needed to point this out again. I was a standing, talking puddle.

At one point, a stranger handed me a wad of napkins.

And at the next point, Will walked up to me (he had been talking with some other people) and looked at me as if someone had just painted my face blue and inquired, "What's going on? Why are you sweating like that??" And then the bride of Satan said, "Maybe you should go and get some air?"

I agreed and ran for the door. I would've knocked over people in wheelchairs to get out of there. All I could hope for was that I didn't have a STREAK of sweat down my ass crack that was visible to everyone on my departure.

Will came out a few minutes later and stared at all the damp spots on my clothes and started laughing. He said, "What was that all about?"

I pleaded, as though if I were desperate enough, my clothes would dry and I could regain some composure, "It's HER! SHE FREAKS ME OUT!! SHE MAKES ME SO FRICKING NERVOUS!!"

Will continued to laugh. And then, so did I. It was BEYOND ridiculous. I made a complete ass of myself. When we re-entered the restaurant, I was relatively dry. And even though the world didn't have enough at that point, we fetched some more wine and then continued to talk with everyone. I even continued to talk with her. The wine had kicked in and I didn't care anymore... There was no dignity left. And actually, you know what? She was delightful the entire time. She was so nice and engaging. She laughed at my jokes and seemed truly sincere.

In a big way, as truly embarrassing as it was, it was liberating. I made an ass of myself, and even though it felt like I had melted, I didn't. I had made such a big fricking drama with her in my mind, that it wasn't necessary. I had made SO MANY assumptions about what she was thinking, and they were most likely nothing. And it all ended in a nice evening with her in a nice setting, with some great wine and damp clothes and squashed ego.

I'm always spouting about how much I don't care what people think of me, but apparently my blood pressure thinks otherwise. It must be more than you that I'm trying to convince.

I forget who said it, but I once heard a saying that went something like this; "We wouldn't spend NEARLY as much time worrying about what other people think of us, if we realized how little they do."

So, when all was said and done, it was bizarrely exhilarating and humbling at the same time. I was COMPLETELY out of control. And if truth be told, I might as well have entered the restaurant without my pants,

because basically, I ended up as naked as they come.