cowboy-glitter
Originally uploaded by Unruly Julie
Let me set the scene. It takes place inside the Mayan, a beautiful venue when you want a theme of hedonistic pleasure. Palm trees in the corners of the lobby provide real life jungle temple experience (::thumbs up w/cheap grin::) while the faux carved stone walls are washed with red, purple and green lights. I walked in and became nostalgic for Legends of the Hidden Temple (but I sure was happy not to run into any temple guards because I left my pendants of life at home). My friend and I find seats upstairs and once people show up that she knows I kinda disappear for a while (figuratively speaking). I take this time to reflect on everything and I realize one very important thing: I don't belong at this event.
I looked around and saw Greasers, Scenesters, Avant Garde artist types. I look up the steps behind me and standing there is a chunky Andy Warhol (green hair instead of platinum blonde) with a crew of misfit neo-hipsters. To my right, a few seats over is this Rockabilly girl with full Betty Paige vamp but as a tough girl. Down below in the ringside seats is a costumed group which includes Marie Antoinette. There's also the hardcore Lucha Libre fans with masks on of their favorite wrestlers. Then there's me, watching in silence with a giant siren going off in my head saying I don't belong here. I didn't. I'm no artist, no scenester, no out of the ordinary searcher for fringe culture. I'm a Barney's Beanery kind of girl who just wants to see cool stuff, talk to interesting people, and on occasion get plastered with my friends. This is the heartbreaking part: since I realize that I don't fit into this world (my best friend who invited me there thus being my only real connection to it) I also have to come to terms that I don't fit into my friend's life either.
It basically broke down to her outgrowing me (eventhough I am sure she doesn't realize it yet) and me not matching her growth and I understand it. She's become an adult and I'm not there yet. To be perfectly candid, I don't know if I ever will be. We're opposites in a lot of ways that seemed far less important when we became friends in high school because we had similar backstories. Ten years later, those common foundations are not as important. She's always been artsy and flighty and free spirited and me not so much. We go to Lucha and it's like walking into her world and I do not feel any connection to anything. I'm not uncomfortable, I'm just noticeably out of place. It just stinks that on a day dedicated to "love" I find out that the best relationship I have had with anyone is falling apart and there is no way to fix it because we're not broken. We still talk and hang out and laugh, but there is just something missing, some sort of divide appeared and there's no bridge across it at this time. So, I end up breaking my own heart on Valentine's Day.
The lights go down, the show begins and everything is beautiful. The crowd laughs and cheers and dances. The luchadores flip and fly across the ring. The VaVoom aspect of the evening was my favorite, although Lil' Chicken and The Human Tornado made the night unforgettable. The night ends and I drive my friend home while we laugh into the darkness. Today is a new day, but my heart is still a bit bruised.
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