Am I in a downward spiral and don’t know it? Has the incessant spiraling now become too standard for me to realize what I’m doing and perhaps I’m too dizzy to be aware of what’s happening? Wait…is this the frog boiling on the stove analogy happening as I type?
A few details:
ABD is a super nice guy, way laid back, didn’t meet him online, but through a friend. I don’t know his actual age, but I’m confidently guessing him at somewhere in the vicinity of ten years older than I or more. I don’t want that to matter. I want to focus on nice guy…not at all bad looking, unmarried, and seems so very kind (in fact it is his computer on which I type this). We had drinks together in a small group one evening shortly after I returned. He felt as though he knew me before…ummmm, I’m pretty sure not. I’m horribly forgetful, but I don’t usually forget faces and I didn’t recognize him by any means.
Wasn’t at all interested in dating him, but enjoyed hanging out with him. Then I was
coaxed pushed into going on a double date to a Halloween party with him. I had a nice time. It was fun to flirt and just relax for a while…still not interested in him at all though! Afterward, he offers to let me use his extra laptop for a while. This is terrific, as I love to write and my daughters need a computer for a lot of their homework assignments. So of course, I gratefully accepted…and now he emails and calls regularly. I feel guilty that I don’t want to see him or hang out. The naked truth is I’m not all that interested in seeing most anyone or hanging out much at all really. Too much going on personally, so much I’m dealing with, with the children, and my stress level automatically prioritizes. Dating someone or even just hanging out with a guy who is interested that way while I’m not, just feels like a lot more added stress and guilt on an already over-loaded situation.
He has gotten insistent a few times and I just keep throwing my excuses at him… What?? They’re valid! They are! Okay yeah, so maybe they also happen to be convenient excuses to not go out with a guy I’m really not interested in anyway but who is just so nice, I wish I could be interested. He’s also a quite the pot smoker, which I’m not at all. I don’t judge his choice for the marijuana bit (to each his own), but add that he rides a Harley and wears his greying hair in a ponytail…these things somehow add to his age in my mind. Maybe he should seem younger than his age, but in reality (well, my reality), these things make him appear the “Aging Biker Guy”. I was never one for pot, but I do recall a few bad-boy stoner/biker guys from high school and college who I secretly crushed on. I kinda liked thewhole James Dean-ish image thing, but I never would have dated one…even then! Somehow now, and at his age, it all just screams of the ridiculous. I struggle to take the image he presents seriously….it almost makes me giggle at the cliché. Yet, I don’t believe he’s trying for this cliché thing; it seems to be who he’s always been, not some mid-life crisis ordeal, and how does one change who they are? Why should they? Just because they’ve become a walking, talking, pot smoking, Harley riding, pony tail wearing cliché? Is it really even a cliché if it’s what you’ve always been? Seriously…you gotta be who you are, right? Yup, I agree, but that doesn’t mean I can bring myself to be interested in dating one even if it really is just who he is. So I make excuses…valid ones, yeah, but I admit they are excuses… I’m really sorry AB…truly… Ummm… it’s just never gonna happen..
Topic two: A few weeks ago, I went bowling with a group of friends. We had a great time. It was terrific to catch up and just be goofy with friends for a while. Unfortunately, here is where I have a few confessions to make.
I’m not much of a drinker. Sure, I love a few glasses of wine with dinner, a few beers with friends, or occasionally a few drinks when I go dancing, but I’m just not a very good drinker beyond that. My catch-22 with the drinking thing is that I rarely want to drink anything beyond that unless I’m stressed…and let me tell you, I don’t know exactly what it is, but I can not handle alcohol when I’m too stressed. It must be something in my brain chemicals or hormonal… hell, I don’t know! Does this indicate alcoholism? I’ve pondered that even… It’s a sad thing that when I’m most interested in escaping and forcing some relaxation on my brain and body with a few too many is precisely the exact time which my brain and body can’t tolerate much alcohol at all, much less beyond what I typically know I can handle gracefully.
…so a few weeks ago…bowling…drinks…fun with friends… Everyone decides to go to a bar to listen to a live band, dance, and drink a bit more. I know I should just go home, but the kids are gone for the weekend, I’ve been way stressed, and I’m happy to be out among friends..and truthfully, I just don’t feel like going home anyway, so I join them to the next place.
I’m dancing like a foolish idiot…yeah..that’s okay. I do that. It’s not my first time. I’m not so ashamed… I probably think I’m dancing like Beyonce, when in fact it resembles Elaine from Seinfeld. I know…. Hey, I’m not trying to impress anyone, I’m just having fun. If you don’t like it, you really don’t have to watch. I know it might be like a train wreck where you don’t wanna look, but can’t help yourself… Whatever. That’s your problem.
Anyway, I’m dancing like the sexy beast I am and a few more old friends show up. Yay! This is awesome….and they start buying shots… This seems like a good idea since I’m stressed and yet I do know that it isn’t a good idea since I’m stressed… But I drink them and I think I’m grateful…
When somehow, in the midst of this whole shenanigan, Hot Stranger Boy starts talking to me. Yeah, I gotta go with “boy” here, as I’m thinking he’s early 20’s if he’s even a day. I really don’t know how or why hot boy and I are talking. It’s all rather jumbled at that point. I’m no cougar though. In fact, I don’t typically find myself even attracted to guys who are more than one or two years younger than I. It’s just not my thing. Don’t misunderstand, I might find them attractive yeah, but I just don’t find myself attracted TO them. But apparently, this guy, this situation, these drinks, this I-don’t-freakin’-know-what, brings me to find hot stranger boy attractive and we decide it’s a great idea that he comes over.
What? Who decided this? And what in the hell was that person thinking? This is not a good idea on several levels. One: I’ve had way too much to drink; two: I’m stressed out of my mind and suffering from a temporary case of blonde n’ flighty ADD (which I tend to do when stressed)and three: hot boy is a BOY. What in the hell is happening here? Who’s in charge? I need to speak to them immediately because someone needs to get a grip on this sitch…and soon…
Not me, though, for the precise reasons this was not a good idea are the same reasons me getting a grip on this sitch and putting it into perspective under the circumstances was just not going to happen. Hot Stranger Boy and I get dropped at my house, which happens to be empty of anyone except the Hot Boy and myself. Coincidence? Uhh, I think not…
As soon as we are in my house, alone, I must have had a brief moment of perspective because I remember suddenly feeling kinda nervous and thinking (to myself of course), this just might not be a good idea. I should drive him home. Ohh hell no…I can’t drive in my intoxicated state. But yeah, I’m responsible so I do the next best thing; I suggest we have a glass of wine and a cigarette. What?! I never said I made good choices under these circumstances, even while in “perspective” mode. Yeah, another glass of wine was the last thing on earth I/we needed. But I open a bottle of Seven Deadly Zins and we proceed to have a glass. I start looking for my iPod..can’t find it… No worries…Hot Stranger Boy’s got this. He plays his; he selects John Mayer. And now we have it… too many drinks plus, Hot Stranger Boy, and sexy music. Seriously, I’m feeling like I just got thrust into some teen-age movie or worse yet, a Lifetime cougar movie of the week! Fast forward through the small talk and whatnot…
Next thing I know, hot boy and I are getting wild and crazy in my bedroom right next to his iPhone playing random John Mayer tunes. Umm, I really couldn’t tell you how/when we moved from the somewhat safety of the living room sofa to my just-waiting-to-be-frollicked-upon big empty bed of unspeakable potentials, but somehow we managed. I probably should feel a little embarrassed at this whole scenario, but really, I don’t. I’m okay with this as a random spontaneous act of stress and alcohol related I-don’t-give-a-damn madness. Not to mention, the sex with Hot Stranger Boy was pretty good although the details are fuzzy (Damned alcohol anyway!). …but true to my nature, I could never leave it at this small, somewhat understandable level of age-inappropriate behavioral embarrassment. Nooooo, of course not.
After a few rounds of juicy sexual shenanigans with HSB, the alcohol is really settling in and I start dozing off. When suddenly, my bladder screams, Get your ass up! You have to go potty! I’m half asleep and almost feel like I can put this off until morning..almost like I must put this off until morning. I can’t get up dammit, much less fully wake up! But my bladder insisted so I sleepily stumbled to the bathroom down the hall…
And right here…here is where I don’t understand what in the HELL happened… ALL I know is that the next thing I recall clearly (yeah, clearly is a drunken, half-asleep relative term at this point) is I’m sitting on the edge of the bathtub, with my ass hanging over the edge of the bathtub. Why? Fuck if I know…I just am, okay? I’m sitting there, approximately five feet or so away from the toilet, naked as the day I was born, when HSB comes sailing into the bathroom! And before I could even begin to process all of the components of this unbelievable situation, he asks casually, whatchya doin’? Are you peeing in the bathtub?
What am I doing? Huh? Did you just ask me what I’m doing? Because that seems a really stupid question, I’m clearly sitting on the edge of the bathtub with my ass hanging over the tub… I don’t freakin’ have a clue what I’m doing! Why else would I be sitting on the edge of the bathtub, naked, at 4 AM…if I knew what in the hell I was doing? What could possibly be confusing about this? I’m obviously half asleep, intoxicated, and had to stop a few feet from the toilet to gather my thoughts and reflect on my actions here…duhhhh… I mean, what else would I be doing?! …Psh…peeing in the bathtub…are you kiddin’ me?!
Ummmmm…omg…. did I pee in the bathtub? I really can’t be certain. I can’t imagine I did. And beyond any stretch of my wild imagination, I can’t imagine why I would. I mean, geesh WTF?! I know where to pee… Don’t I?
I’m not so sure anymore as I truly have not a clue what I was doing sitting there. This might turn out to be one of those timeless questions of life… Like, what does it all mean? Why are we here? Why are round pizzas put in squares? What is the purpose of it all? Why was I sitting with my naked ass hanging over the bathtub?