I live in a 30-unit condo unit in downtown Denver. I like living downtown because it gives me major bragging rights. At work, I say things like, "The suburbs?! Oh, I could NEVER live in the suburbs. There's just no culture. My god, aren't you bored?!"
The co-worker I am speaking to, usually a white middle-aged man (probably works in either Data or Finance)with thinning hair and pleated khaki pants (dear god, does he not know that flat-front khakis are like, 100% more slimming?!?) just stares at me. He doesn't mind the fact that I am blatantly insulting his home, because he's staring at my (relatively younger compared to his wife's) tits.
So I go on. "I just really love the grit of living downtown, you know? The people are so much more interesting. I mean, ugh, the suburbs?" I popped my gum and flipped my hair, enjoying the fact that he probably thinks I'm 27 and not 33-(bitches, I use a ton of sunscreen, okay? Don't hate on me).
Well, I got my comeuppance the following night when three hooligans moved in next door. There's one girl and two guys- kind of weird, because it's a one-bedroom condo. Do they all sleep together? Is it a girl/guy couple and the second guy sleeps on the couch, or are the boys together and the girl is on the couch? And their clothes- the guys are in Ed Hardy knock-offs, looking like a mix between Vanilla Ice and Kevin Federline. The girl has more tattoos than Mike Tyson and looks like J-Woww from MTV's Jersey Shore.
"I'm scared," I whispered to my husband, peering through the curtain, watching J-Woww out on the porch scream at somebody on the phone while her two male roommates smoked and stared off into space. It was like watching a really disturbing episode of My Two Dads.
"They're just kids," my husband said, his legs primly crossed, reading the paper and sipping organic coffee. Seriously, look up "effeminate heterosexual" in the dictionary and you'll find a picture of him. "Plus, I thought you were really into the 'grit' of living downtown."
"Well, right, but..." What was I supposed to say?! That I was actually repulsed by sketchy-looking 19-year-olds in baggy pants? That I associated tattoos with prison inmates? That when I see people smoking, I automatically think 'throat cancer'? That maybe, deep down inside, I am actually a judgmental conservative housewife with no real grit, no real exposure to anybody other then college-educated corporate pricks? Was I a snob?!?
"I'm going to go introduce myself," I said, snapping the curtains open dramatically. "I will NOT judge a book by its cover." I flung open the door and walked out to the porch. I talked with them, and all three of them were, naturally- extremely nice. They offered me both a cigarette and beer, and as I sat there, drinking and (awkwardly) pretending to smoke, I thought- wow- I was wrong. I was really, really, wrong.
Now I need to go fish my jewelry back out of the flour canister.
Quarter Life Whatever
4 years ago