April 18, 2013 | 9:22 am
Posted by Ilana Angel
I was invited to a party last night, and after spending all day trying to figure out a good enough excuse to not go, I went. I’ve been feeling anti-social since my break up and wanted to stay home. I don’t feel pretty or funny, which is unfortunate because I am hilarious and actually look quite good.
I went with my dear friend Scott and met up with my fancy Hollywood girlfriends. I knew I was going to be with a group of gorgeous and famous beauties, so I gave in to my decision to go by brushing my hair, putting on lipstick, a few sequins, and my highest heels. At least I was trying.
Scott and I went in and headed to the bar. I ordered vodka with pineapple juice, and the night began. Scott is gorgeous, charming, Jewish, and my dream man. Paul is his delicious boyfriend, so it isn’t happening for us, but a girl can dream. I was now on a mission to have a good time.
Did you hear the one about the Jew and Italian from New York who walk into a bar? We met these two young and handsome New Yorkers and struck up a conversation as we gathered at the same table. They were in the hotel industry and clients of OK Magazine, who was hosting the party.
They were both handsome and funny so I immediately got to searching through my contacts to fix them up. The Italian was 31 and the Jew was 29. Both were sexy and approachable. They were clearly not from LA. They were fun and entertaining, which I find most men are when they don’t live in shallow LA. The young Italian and I got to chatting and he told me I did not look as old as I was, and said if I didn’t have such a steadfast rule to not date younger men, he would date me. He might have been blowing smoke up my ass, but I don’t care. It mattered to me.
After a break up there is insecurity so without even realizing it, this man lifted me up. He made me flip my hair, stand taller, put on fresh lipstick, and remember that I may not be 20 something, but I am 40 something and fabulous. I am a very sexy woman and it took a stranger to remind me I am a catch and someone will see it. To my new friend Rob from NYC, thank you. Thank you for making me feel beautiful, for telling me my ex was a schmuck, and for allowing me, even if for just a moment, to feel my heart will mend and I will get my mojo back.
We left the New Yorkers and joined my fancy friends for drinks. My girlfriend Brandi invited me to the party and she looked beautiful. She is a celebrity and one of the funniest people I know. When I went over she stood up, hugged me, and told me I was beautiful. I know it sounds silly, but I almost cried. I was there to celebrate her, but she celebrated me, and it was lovely. Her support of me was important. I look at her and wonder how it is that we are both single when she is so spectacular looking. In the end, we may look different, but we are exactly the same.
She is a woman, a mother, and has had to mend a broken heart. We may not look the same, but the pain and struggles are the same. Our insecurities may be different, because to clarify she has no body fat and legs for days, but our insecurities make sense to us. It is not how you look that defines how you mend your heart, it is how you feel. As women we feel, think, dream, and process disappointment the same. Being with Brandi, and having her say I am beautiful, was healing. It was proving to be a good night and I was glad I dragged my ass out.
My friend Jennifer was there and I cannot say enough how much I love this woman. We are connected in powerful ways. I feel like I have known her my entire life, or perhaps another life. When we hugged I didn’t want to let go. If I could see myself as she sees me, I could rule the world. She is a supportive friend and even if she is feeling low, puts aside her feelings to address mine. She is a movie star, yet to me she is simply Jen and my life is better with her in it. When she told me I looked beautiful, I believed her because she would not lie. She is my favorite.
We look to men to tell us we are beautiful and desirable, but the best reflection of who we are comes from our girlfriends. After an evening with these women I woke up feeling strong. A gorgeous New Yorker thought I was hot, my girlfriends made me feel beautiful, and my friend Scott was such a good date I left wanting to make out with him. I may not be his type, but that does not matter. The point is that he reminded me men are great, and I look forward to meeting someone new. Will he be as divine as Scott? Maybe with vodka, so I’m keeping the faith.
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