Belly Dance Booty Blooper

Normally, I double check everything before hitting the stage, but last night, my coverup was on and my shoes were buckled, and somehow, something slid past “son kontrol”–final inspection.

After my dramatic entrance on to stage, (in a palanquin, no less),

and my regal dismissal of the two strapping young men who carry me onto said raised stage, I proceeded with my show as always.

It wasn’t until midway through my first song–after plenty of turns and spins–that I noticed the jewelry seller out in front waving urgently to get my attention. My skirt was unzipped in the back!

I’d flashed everyone.

What could I do but quickly zip it, chuckle a bit, shrug it off, and keep dancing?

Nothing, so that’s what I did.

Goldilocks and the Little Brown Bear

I hadn’t decided whether to take a roommate into my apartment, but when a newish friend, Goldilocks (her hair is bleached, so this moniker is accurate in more ways than one), asked if she could move in with me, I went ahead and said, “Sure.”
While I won’t dwell on the fact that she hasn’t paid her (discounted!) share of the rent on the mutually agreed upon date, although she has gone on a shopping spree, had a costume made, and paid her outstanding bills at the hairdresser, the car service, and her mom’s house, I would like to mention another of the more severe trespasses she has committed against Little Bear (me).
I spent two nights out of the city with family, and when I returned, during a casual conversation about the satin sheets I’d received as a housewarming gift, she complained that, yes, my sheets were really slippery!
An alarm went off in my head as I wondered how the hell she knew my sheets were so slippery. I knew her boyfriend had been there while I was gone, and I’ve got a double bed–Goldilocks only has a single, but I didn’t want to imagine my new roomie was entertaining in my bed. I tried to tell myself that she, after rummaging through my costume closet (yes! she borrows my expensive costumes as well as my socks), must have gotten fatigued, sat down on my bed, and slid off.

Last week, I left the city again to look after my friend’s daughter for the afternoon, and I stayed the night in the suburbs. When I returned, it was clear that in my absence, her boyfriend had been to visit, as the dishwasher was full of dishes and utensils from the dinner they’d prepared using my groceries, and the foul smell of cigarette smoke that was emanating from my roommate’s bedroom. Neither of us smokes, and I’ve asked her boyfriend not to smoke in the house either, but hey, I wasn’t there. Upon entering my own bedroom, I noticed my curtains had been closed. I always leave them open when I’m away, so my plants will receive sunlight. Puzzling. I also noticed my sheets looked a little mussed, though I was pretty sure I’d left the bed neat. I searched the bed for clues and I noticed a heat- and color-damaged strand of blond hair, but the real giveaway was when I went to plug in my phone charger. The outlet was occupied by the hall nightlight. It’s a soft red color–how romantic.

The Encounter

This January, I came back to Istanbul for the first time in three years.  I kept wondering when I was going to run into my ex.  We had a good relationship followed by a nasty, drawn-out breakup.  I was in Istanbul three months and didn’t see him.  I knew he hadn’t left the city, because he’ll never go anywhere (in the world or in life.)  I left Turkey and spent two blissful weeks in the US.  I returned to Istanbul and after the exhausting flight, friends picked me up and dragged me down Istiklal Avenue on a shopping trip.  Feeling faint, I walked into a sandwich shop for an orange juice.  When I turned around to leave, I found myself face to face with my ex.

He was rude and it was awkward.  I must admit, though–he still looks good.  I have great taste.

Next time, call first.

One of our beloved regular guests is a school principal who stays with us Monday nights through Friday mornings, before returning to her home in Richmond. Thursday night is normally my last time seeing her, because when she leaves for work at 7 am, I’m usually deep in REM sleep.

This Friday, however, her plans changed slightly, and instead of driving to Virginia immediately after leaving work, she returned to the house to pick up a few things. I was surprised to hear her voice call my name from the entryway. “Lara? Anyone? Hello?”, but I was more surprised that she did not come alone. She’d brought along a colleague from work who was hitching a ride with her to Richmond. A handsome, ambitious one, about my age.

And what was I doing? I was stretched out on the sofa, under a ruffly white blanket, wearing a hairnet and watching She-Ra, Princess of Power.

A hairnet! Really!