“Ladies night out” is a universal ritual that has transcended all cultural, racial and political barriers. It is basically a night where all girlfriends get
together to discuss the boyfriends, husbands, lovers, mantenidos/-as, losers, chismes and any other topic a cluster of women could muster. It is a stress-relieving occasion that has sometimes been referred to as
“Dinner night,” “Chisme night,” “I don’t have a husband night,” or “Wish I was 20 night.”
As my Heroine, who — true to form — engaged in this monthly “rite of passage,” she had a moment to reflect
(dangerous) about all the other Heroines in her life and the end product was disturbing. Her posse was referred to by some of her acquaintances (not all) as the “Sinister Trio.”
As appealing as Charlie’s
Angels, but as twisted as Satan’s Spawn. Permit me a moment to describe my Heroine’s trio.
First, there was the Farrah (or “Fara” the Spanish version) of the bunch. If you recall on Charlie’s Angels, Fara was
not the smartest or the brightest, but her looks alone, would ace any test you put in front of her. She had that talent that many of us wish we could have, the talent of “distraction.” When she walked into a room
everybody looked, thus, permitting her other co-workers/co-spawns the opportunity to get some real work done.
Fara was always in one pickle or other. (In more ways than one.) She would be heartbroken about
this, depressed about that, dramatic about him, snotty with her, obnoxious with them…you get the gist. If a man took Fara to a dinner of less than $100, he would be dining alone the next time. Fara would screen her
calls, delete messages that exceeded 30 seconds and basically act like Daisy Fuentes on promotional shoots — Diva-lized (Devilized, if you ask me). I’m sure many of you know a Fara, she is just stunning to look at, but
as emotional as the weather and throws temper tantrums every roll of thunder.
I can recall one really enamoured Cuban in Miami, who not only lost his heart to her, but also his wallet. She met this Cubano at
Mangos, this really awesome dance spot in South Beach. If you want to boogie, Mangos is the place. Fara was in her usual fashion attire (slut gear, labeled by some): a tiny top, high heels and daisy dukes. Fara sat at
the far end of the bar almost obligating every man with a pulse to buy her a drink with her plunging neckline. She scanned the vicinity and found a guy she often recognizes, the one with a big fat “S”(sucker) on his
forehead covering the big “L”(loser) that used to be there.
He made eye contact with her and it was over.
He brought her a drink, the next night dinner, the third night a cruise ride and the list was
endless. As the days dwindled and Fara’s departure seemed almost inevitable, the Cubano almost cried on the car ride to the airport.
Fara, on the other hand, said in her most sensitive voice, emitting a sigh of
sadness and disappointment (or was it relief???), “See ya! I was nice.”
And with that, she was on her way. Upon arriving in New York, it seems that the Cubano was too torn to be without her for any prolonged
period of time, so he had already expressed mailed her a first class ticket to Miami, to be used as soon as possible. OOOHHH she used it all right, she ran to the nearest American Airlines and cashed in that baby real
fast. The retail value was about $650, so she bought herself a coat, some shoes and an outfit for her date the next night.
When my Heroine tried to appeal to her conscience by asking her, “What about his
feelings and his wanting to see you?”
“He would have wanted me to have these things,” Fara repsonded.
My Heroine feeling really disappointed with the answer provided tried one more approach.
“What if he comes after you or you run into him again?”
Fara snorted, “It’s not possible, I gave him a fake address, a fake home number and a fake last name, it’s my mother’s maiden name.”
Wow, at this
moment, I realized Fara was not so dumb after all…she gave him a fake name, but, not too fake so that she could actually cash in the thing. She gave him fake credentials along with a fake or false hope of love. Poor
guy, he didn’t have a chance!
To be fair to Fara, she is a blast to go out with. She has mastered some two rules of her own:
Rule#1: Do not go to clubs with more than $10 in your pocket — free to get in, and
$10 to buy one drink maximum. Someone should be coming around by then to buy the rest.
Rule#2: Never wait for “Last Call” at a bar because as she put it, “ahi es que salen todas las cucarachas!” In other
words, that is when all the roaches that haven’t hooked up for the night start coming on to you.
If you want to find my Fara, she can usually be found on the passenger side of a Porche, Mercedes or Expedition
with the license plate numbered…Easy Pickin’s.
To meet Kelly and Sabrina….stay tuned. . .
