Monday, July 7, 2008


Yesterday I experienced three nights out in one. First, I had drinks with friends at a new bar in Palermo Soho that I've been dying to go to. There were gorgeous people, a terrific roof terrace that reminds me of being out in Los Angeles and a bartender pal on whom I've had the hugest crush for the better part of the last year. Next stop: More drinks with a second group of friends at a club in Belgrano where the average age of the crowd seemed to be about 20. I split after less than an hour because there were way too many people, and I quickly grew tired of having hyperactive kids spill their drinks on me. I ended up at GLAM, where I met up with yet more friends, made a few new acquaintances (Leonardo and Andres: ¡Mucho gusto!) and danced myself into a state of total exhaustion.

Have I mentioned that I absolutely adore the nightlife in Buenos Aires? (See above: Saturday revelers at Crobar one of BA's top after-midnight attractions.) I think it's better than in New York, which, for me, peaked in the early '90s, better than in London, which peaked in the mid-to-late '90s, and better than in Paris, which has always been as slow as those snails that Parisians love to eat.

But that's not the point of this post. This morning, I received an IM from a guy I know who said he'd seen me at GLAM the night before. I ran into so many people there whom I hadn't seen in weeks, but he wasn't one of them. I asked him why he didn't say hello to me. His response: "Tuve miedo." Translation: He was afraid. Something about my being big (as in tall?) and scary (Who, me?) and surrounded by people (oh, right). I'm still not sure what that means or what I'm supposed to do with it, but it's the second time someone has made that excuse for not approaching me when they've seen me out.

What's up with that? My friends always tell me that one of the reasons why I'm chronically single (besides my being extremely picky) is that people are intimidated by me. I'll probably never understand why, but I'm beginning to see my friends' point. Especially considering that the guy in question from last night is someone who knows me and has seen me out before and had no problem greeting me then. Who knows who else is secretly watching me from afar when I go out? Another guy at a GLAM, a beautiful stranger, approached me to tell me that he'd seen me at the first bar but walked away dejected when I told him that I couldn't say the same. (¡PorteƱos!) I shudder and cringe to think of the things these people see (Leo, Andres and me?), as I like to check my angelic behavior at the door. What can I say? Rihanna's "Please Don't Stop the Music" brings out the devil in me.
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