Holiday Party

At work there had been a lot of talk about a potential Christmas party. But, unfortunately, with an unmotivated group of restaurant people, plans were moving at a snail's pace and the date ultimately set for the party was in late January, nearly a month after Christmas. The theme was Ugly Christmas Sweater, and the prize that went to the ugliest sweater were two plane tickets courtesy of Jet Blue to anywhere they fly out to. I was determined to win and went on the hunt for the ugliest sweater and then purchased a bunch of tacky decorations from a craft store to further tack it up.

Dandy wasn't motivated enough to make a sweater of his own but he made my heart skip a beat when one day we were hanging out at his house and he commented how nice it would be if I won and we could fly up to my home state together. He said he'd never been there before and he thought it would be fun. Proposing a trip together? If that didn't insinuate a desire to move forward in a relationship I don't know what did.

Finally the party rolled around and I had created a most fugly sweater. I thought I was a sure thing for the win.

I wasn't.

An older woman in her 50s was instead awarded the prize. As soon as I saw that she had dressed up, I knew she'd win. She was the mother figure of the workplace, so when I saw her, I said to Dandy, "Well, I'm fucked."

They announced the winner, it wasn't me, so I hit the bar.

Dandy and I got hammered. I proceeded to dance, and I don't dance. Then I pulled Dandy onto the dance floor. Now, I know that I said I don't dance, but Dandy? REALLY doesn't dance. Dandy proceeded to awkwardly gyrated his hips to the amusement of every single person we work with. Eventually we tired of making asses of ourselves on the dancefloor and after a few more beers/cocktails/shots, we cozied up in a booth and proceeded to passionately make out again to the amusement of all of our co-workers. We kissed and grabbed and whispered how we couldn't wait to rush home to bed. Drunken horny talk is sooooo sexy.

Our time at the place rented for the party drew to a close, but everyone wanted to keep the party going. Neither of us had drove, so our DD escorted us to a downtown bar where Dandy just barely made it inside. He ordered a double tall Jack and Coke and proceeded to down it and pass out sitting up in a chair. Countless people kept coming over and asking if he was alright. I knew that my night just got a whole lot more exciting. Now I got to baby-sit! Eventually the bar closed and we went outside to our DD's car. On the way, Dandy, who was wearing heavy soled shoes, managed to drunkenly stomp onto my foot, I was wearing flip flops. The full force of his body weight shattered my toe. My toenail split and a piece chipped off as it began bleeding. I limped to the car, dragging Dandy behind me, and we crawled into the backseat as I swallowed and hoped the immense amount of alcohol I'd consumed would numb the pain.

When the DD pulled up to Dandy's house, I practically threw out my back pulling Dandy to his feet. Thankfully he never locks his front door, so I pushed it open and then locked it behind me as I tried to guide his stumbling drunk ass to his bedroom. Somehow, he managed to disrobe down to his boxers and flopped facedown diagnally across the bed. I grabbed a t-shirt and shorts from his dresser drawer and crawled into bed, pushing his unconscious body aside.

One thing was for sure, as the pain in my foot came rushing back to me, as I watched Dandy sleep, snoring loudly with drool puddling around his mouth, I wasn't going to be having any sex tonight.

The next day, I woke up way before Dandy. This was typical. Even though I'm hardly what you'd call a morning person, I can't ever sleep in late when I'm away from my own bed. So I had previously located all of the books in Dandy's room, and would sit up and read until he got up. Currently I was making my way through "A Million Little Pieces" the partially-fabricated memoir of James Frey. Exaggerated or not, it was a good read. Dandy eventually woke up with a hellacious hangover and very little recollection of the tail end of the party. He didn't even remember that we had moved to a second location for an after party and was puzzled as to how we got home. Suffice it to say he didn't remember crushing my toe, and I showed him by damaged bloody toenail. He cringed.

We laughed it off and got into my car to go retrieve Dandy's vehicle from the parking lot of the bar that hosted our Holiday Party. I had already been given that night off of work thanks to the Gods of scheduling, and Dandy was in sorry shape, so he immediately was on the phone to the Bossman to beg for the cut. He sounded pathetic enough that he was given the night off, so we headed over to the local fried chicken chain down the road (Classy I know). Dandy was going to pay but naturally, he didn't have enough money and I ended up paying. Needless to say, this was not exactly Dandy's finest hour. At least the cashier totally called him out for not paying for his lady's lunch. I added an "Amen, sistah." We ate, made tentative plans for that evening (dinner, which he would actually pay for... for real) and a movie. We finished up our greasy lunches and each went home, ending the ordeal that was our work Holiday party.