Hey! Here’s that story I promised. I’m a woman of her word.
So this asshole… Oh my God, you can’t start a story like that! What a terrible setup. What’s that saying about being told not to think about elephants…
Let’s try it again. Fresh start. In 2006, I was dating a guy who worked for MTV. I’ll call him Johnson. He gave me a day’s notice that he had a plus-one for the New Year’s Eve party, the gold party.
When I wasn’t panicking over what to wear, I was panicking over meeting Johnson’s entire staff and his boss at what I felt would surely be the world’s biggest holiday party. What does a person wear to MTV? I wasn’t watching the channel actively anymore, and TRL was a season away from wrapping for good, but outside the city, I knew the channel still had cachet. This was a cool invite, and I wanted to fit in.
“So what do I wear?!” I demanded immediately.
“Just look cute,” he said offhandedly. Look cute, I thought. OK, I can do cute, surely. The day of, however, the boots I wanted for my conservative, cute look were missing. I knew cops were putting the city on lock, avenue by avenue, street by street. My zone was tightening as I hopped on the train and rode past 42nd Street to my job, where said boots were tucked into a cabinet among assorted other slingbacks and flats. A temporary security guard I didn’t recognize followed me from the security desk to my cubicle. “I have to get downtown really fast,” I said. “I’m not here to for computer stuff or paperwork.” Nevertheless, he watched solemnly as I changed out of my sneakers, and wished me a joyless New Year on my way out. Awesome start.