My weekend was very strange and ridiculously fun.

Friday was a bit stressful with BFD promising and then failing to fully deliver on his emergency bail-out. He was supposed to bring a certified check for the full amount. He brought a corporate check for the past due amount.

RA texted me to hang out early downtown. We’ve made a resolution to not drink during the week and to lose 10 pounds during January. (So far, I am down 6…) For us, with social engagements every night and professional networking events, that’s much harder than you’d imagine, but we’re doing it. So, I told RA that I had to run an errand and she decided to cut out of her afternoon at 4 to help me.

We took the bus downtown, as I have finally convinced her that it’s so much better than driving and parking when we’re out and she loves it. She managed the errand for me, as a matter of fact, and then got me a cookie. She’s really the best and my absolute dearest friend who I trust with everything, as does she.

We go from there and walk 10 blocks to the chic hotel bar (CHB) at which we are regulars. I switch out shoes before we get there, so I can throw on a pair of high-heeled boots. We’re dressed down — sweaters, scarves, jeans, boots — in a perfect way for a chilly Friday afternoon. We arrive before 5 and order our first round of $13 cocktails ensconced in our regular seats on a long sofa with a perfect view of everything. As I am poor, RA buys my drinks, which are made just the way I like them: very spicy, very strong, and not too sweet. (Also, as I like my men . . .)

A man who is in love with RA shows up. Essentially, he hosts the rest of our evening. RA has a boyfriend, which this man knows, but he shows up just to be with her and insists on paying for everything. This happens a lot. He also insists that we order our usual steak frites, of which we only eat the steak.

At 629, I get a text from the Bon Vivant. It’s sexual in nature in a way his texts rarely are. It’s also something I am not sure whether to take seriously. So, I don’t. He’s reporting what he’d just done, so I tell him “That’s hot. So you’re home?” [He lives a single block from this hotel/condo tower, in which several of my friends and his friends live, and which houses the CHB we all frequent.] He says: no, I always do it in public and we exchange a couple of quick goofy messages, and then I respond back and say “Come see me at the [CHB].” No response.

I texted him a couple of hours later when I’d had much more to drink and had much much more fun with FM and then later JerkFace and some of his friends joining us to round out our party. I also met this older woman, who I thought was my age, but is in her 50s and gorgeous and an art dealer. We made plans to hang out, and she hung out with our entire crazy crew for a bit.

[We are quite fun.]

Anyway, I’d texted BV again because I saw his one of his boys walk in with an entourage. I see this man at the CHB every time I am there and I teased him: “how does your boy always beat you here?” I texted him again before we left for the next spot, where RA’s boyfriend and her gay best friend who is an actual psychotherapist who told me in the past that BV should be my fwb not my bf (heh).

Random drama ensued, but I had a blast. As the evening wound down, I wandered with FM to another bar. I was drinking rather lightly: two cocktails, some random sake, and then I had switched to water.  I was going to a tv shoot the next day and I was concerned about being alert and up for that.

I never heard anything back from BV which was disappointing, but not entirely surprising. He’s gotten good about responding to my random messages, even if he is still terrible about showing up.