The christmas party moron

As many of you, my month of December seemed to have been a long procession of Christmas parties and I just wanted to tell you a little story that happened. My girl friends and I planned a little GNO christmas dinner in a trendy Mexico city restaurant called Bar Tomate. 8 French girls in a Mexican restaurant apparently draw some attention since a bottle of tequila magically appeared on our table. Generally, one should never accept a bottle of alcohol in Mexico. We all heard some terrifying stories about girls being kidnapped and raped after accepting a bottle in a restaurant. Truth or urban legends, nobody wanted to test them but these happened to be a table of Spaniard gentlemen. Since we didn’t touch the Tequila, they sent over a bottle of champagne. Well, we are french after all, they were spaniard not Mexican so we had a little glass of bubbly toasting the gentlemen from our table. And that apparently seamed to encourage them to come our way and chat us on.

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“oh you’re are French” i love France…” If only I had a dollar for all the times I heard this one… I studied in Toulouse, do you know Toulouse. A friend of mine had the bad idea to reply that she was from Saint Rémy de Provence and between her origins, her siren like Venitian blond hair and her endless legs, she was stuck with the Spaniard for a while. They even started taking some pictures of them wedged between us, a little too much and as they say in Mexico “pesadisimo.”

Feeling in luck, they asked us to come with them to a bar because they were 8 guys, no girls and would never get in. I began to feel a little over exasperated with these GNO party poppers and bluntly told them that if them go to a gay bar, the physio would let them in with no problem. Anyways, it took them a while to understand that this was leading them nowhere and finally take off to some greener pastures and I thought I would never hear for them again…

The following evening, the love of my life took me to some Mexican friends of his that I had never meet for another Christmas dinner. My liver was starting to protest but I dutifully obliged. As usual, we were the first guest to arrive, my husband having swallowed a swiss clock at birth, the hostess was still upstairs and her husband nicely tried to make us the conversation. We were followed briefly by a couple of Spaniards, punctual europeans,  and they all talked about their different Xmas parties. I felt this was the perfect timing to tell my little adventure with these preposterous spaniards so as I began telling that we were 8 girls at Bar Tomate last night, the wife cuts me out and asks her husbands if this wasn’t the place where he was too. And the husband, bluntly and with no apparent shame asked me if we were the french girls he sent the bottle of Champagne too, he omitted the tequila one… Obviously, none of us had any recollection of the other ones face…

I felt my face flush and couldn’t meet the wife in the eyes, I felt so embarrassed for her but the husband seemed to found the whole story very amusing. He even showed me some pictures he had stored in his Iphone, why I still wonder, showing his perspiring friend with two of my girlfriends. So, this of course was the talk of the dinner party when the other guests had arrived, he found out eventually that the mean girl willing to send them off to a gay bar was me but that didn’t brush him off. He kept being a moron the whole evening and his wife being there didn’t really seem to bother him.

I would have loved to be a fly on the wall when they got home. May be next time he will be more cautious with whom he sends off bottles to.

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