Tate is currently a student in the Graphic Design program at a local university. Because of this, we were invited to a Portfolio Show last night to view the portfolios of some of his classmates/friends who are graduating this semester. It was held at MOCA, a very nice museum downtown. Now, I am very much a homebody and also very much not a fan of being around a lot of people, so I would usually be inclined to decline these invitations, but because
I know the graduates and I know how hard they worked to get to where they are, I am a good wife, I decided to join him. Due to the fact that I am a homebody, it is not often that I go out – especially to fancy dancy occasions like this one – so I decided to get dressed up. It was a crisp 40 degrees or something (I’m not really an adult so I never know what the weather is until I am in it, and even then I only know if it’s cold, hot, wet or dry) so I decided to wear my big fancy winter coat. Underneath I wore a very pretty teal shirt made of a material that I do not know what it was…definitely not cotton…leggings and boots. I looked pretty damn good, if I say so myself. (Trophy wife status, here I come!)
Anyway, as I was getting ready, Tate mentioned that although it was cold outside, it was likely going to be warm inside the museum so I should make sure that whatever I wore underneath, I would be comfortable taking my jacket off. I waved him off and told him something along the lines of “I got this” and continued getting ready. I should have listened to him, but I didn’t because “I got this“.
As we walked through downtown I was secretly thinking “I am so glad that I wore this outfit! I would have been freezing otherwise!” because it was effing cold and windy and my jacket was doing a fine job of keeping that wind out.
We get to the museum and walk in and it is packed. I’m talking almost-no-room-to-walk-through packed. My least favorite kind of situation. Oh, and it was hotter than hell, too. As I mentioned, I don’t like being around people; my social anxiety leads me to be painfully awkward and I was so afraid that when I took my jacket off that my shirt would be, like, tucked into my pants or something and I would have to leave in shame and never talk to anyone again that I just left the jacket on, buttoned up and tied around my waist as we wandered through the sea of bodies and hot breath. It wasn’t but a minute in that the heat started radiating off of me. “Damnit.” I said to Tate, “This outfit was a terrible choice.” He laughed in a told ya so kind of way and I laughed too because he totally did tell me so. He offered for me to take it off, but as I said, my fear of embarrassment kept me from doing so.
After a while Tate decided that he was ready to take his jacket off and asked if I wanted to risk taking mine off, as well. “I guess so.” I said, nervously. I waited patiently with our beers in my hands as he took off his jacket. I then handed the beers back to him and started to take mine off. Only, when I finally finished unbuttoning it and opened it up, we both looked at my stomach to see my shirt stuck to it. It was, no effing joke, stuck to my skin with sweat. And of course, since it was a “pretty teal” color, there was an obvious sweat stain. I looked up at him and we both stood in silence for a second, then laughed as I slowly said “just kidding” and buttoned back up.
We wandered around the museum for another hour or so, me baking to death in my own jacket, until I finally told Tate that if we did not leave he would need to call an ambulance because I was sure I was about to have a heat stroke. I didn’t have a heat stroke, but I did almost get hypothermia when we left because my entire torso was soaked and it was, as I said, like 40 degrees. Like taking a dip in a outdoor hot tub while it was snowing. I made it home without incident, though, so that’s cool. When I did finally take the jacket off, there was a nice band of sweat around my torso. Mmm…sexy.
All in all it was a great night – it is rare that Tate and I don’t have a great time when we are together – and I was able to support some really great and talented people, so I have no real complaints. Was Tate right about picking the right clothing? Yes. Did I admit that to him? Of course. Will I listen to him next time? Of course not.