Imagine drones of drunken co-ed girls in wet T-shirt
contests, all night partying, beer, clubbing, more beer, dancing until dawn, impulsive,
booze fueled hook ups, and more beer.  All
the stuff that happens in Cancun. When I was in my early 20’s, I went on an “all-expenses
paid” trip to Cancun, thanks to the travel agent grandmother of a friend of mine.

Where I walked into one club for a total of two hours.

Where I was in bed most night by 10:00.

Where I drank not one beer.

Where I went back to my own room every night – by myself.

Where a wet T-shirt never saw my torso.

I’m not the “fun girl.” Clearly, “Cancun fun” is an extreme
kind of fun, but I’m not fun at all.  I’m
not the girl that you schedule your next party around, because it wouldn’t be a
party without Ilene there.  No. 

As a matter of fact, you may not invite me.  Because how much fun is it going to be to
have someone standing in your living room at 9:00, yawning?

 I would not be the
life of your party.  I tried to be that
girl. Once. For about five minutes. But it’s just “not my thing.” I had to work
too hard at it.  It went again my natural
grain.

I don’t like alcohol.

I don’t like the junk food that people eat after they’ve
drunk too much alcohol.

I have never been comfortable enough in my body to don a wet
T-shirt, or even a tight T-shirt for that matter (OK, if you must know, a tight
T-shirt would only reveal the fact that I have no chest whatsoever).   

And I love sleep.  There are very few things in this world that I
would stay up past 10:00 for – and a party isn’t one of them.

I avoid girl’s nights out because starting my night at 9:00
or 9:30 is downright painful.

I’d prefer to socialize in the morning. Not too early in the
morning, because that’s my meditation and yoga and a cup of coffee time.  But I’d love meet meet you for a second cup
of coffee, at a place that had soy milk, of course, or even an early lunch, so
long as the restaurant had vegetarian and gluten free options.  Vegan options preferred. 

We could go shopping after lunch, but I ought to warn you
that I’m quite a tight wad.  If you want
a partner in crime in the shoe department, you won’t find one in me.

We could go for ice cream. 
But only if you don’t mind that I won’t get any.  Unless it’s made with soy milk and raw sugar
in my home ice cream maker, I stay away.

We could get makeovers at a department store cosmetics
counter, but I’m pretty fussy about people using communal makeup brushes on my
face and eyes – even if they’re reportedly “sterile.”

We could browse the shelves at the library.  I’d actually be quite happy doing that!

Or hit a yoga class. 

Sometimes, I covet the idea of being the “fun girl.”  Because fun girls are popular! People love
being around that girl who just wants to have a good time, because she gets others
to have a good time.  But that’s not my
mission.  Sometimes, I want the glitz and
glory that goes with being the life of the party, but it’s not who I am or ever
was. 

I am introspective, and intense, and when I’m not careful, a
little brooding. I am a thinker and a seeker, and a believer, a great listener,
and a teacher.  I inspire people to look
within themselves, believe in possibilities, and grow.

If you’re on the verge of identifying some huge limitation
that has kept you from moving forward with your life, then call me. 

If you’re going out to do shots, don’t. 

Can we still be friends?

Namaste, Divas!

©2012 Ilene Evans