Let me preface this story by saying by the time I met him and actually talked to him, I was holding a tall glass that could be equivalent to two very large, yet normal sized, glasses of beer. I had been drinking previously to arriving at the bar where I met him. My first clue that I was more than buzzing should have been when we sat down in the room with the band, and I didn’t even flinch at how loud the music was playing.
It was loud. So loud, I couldn’t tell at that moment, but when the next morning came and I was emptying my stomach of anything that existed inside it for the past 48 hours, my ears were ringing as if they band followed me home and continued to play.
Long story short: I met this guy when I was blitzed. I recall thinking he was cute, he had a nice laugh, and he was funny. Now that I am sober and take to memory recall, I’m not so sure. I’m doubting was happened because I know what state I was in aka Drunk. Yes, with a capital D. So, clearly Drunk-Me really hit it off with him. The question now is whether Sober-Me would hold the same opinion or not.
Only time will tell.
He just asked me out, and I’m not sure what to do. He wants to go out tomorrow night, and to be honest, my week day schedules suck. I work until almost midnight, and then have to be somewhere the following morning by 8:00 am or earlier. Given the state of distress I’ve been finding myself under as of late, I need my beauty sleep. It’s not even to make sure I look beautiful in the morning, it’s to make sure I have enough sanity left in my brain to make it through the day without killing an innocent bystander or throwing myself repeatedly against a wall. (That should all be followed with an open statement of, yes, those comments were meant to be jokes.Read the fine print in between the lines, people.)
I’m just baffled about this. I didn’t even know I had his number until he texted me the next day. Again, this adds dimension to the state of being I was in. Do I remember him taking my phone or me giving him my phone? Not one bit. Somehow he did. Weird. Usually its glued to my hand, the inside of my bra (hey, don’t judge. If people can put money there, I can certainly put my phone there for safe keeping), or I give to the sober one driving me home later that night. Drunk texting is never a good thing, and I certainly wanted to text a handful of people that night.
The longer I remain single, the more I realize how out of the dating loop I am. Dating is supposed to be fun, isn’t it? Then, why the heck do I cringe at the prospect sometimes? I should be excited whether it’s a guy I’m into immediately or not. The idea of being out and meeting someone new should be enough to make me go “Hey, I’m out there and am dating! Yahoo!!!!”
I should be planning what I’m going to wear, and then get nervous about my final choice. I should have several hair styles picked out for the big night, only to hate it once I’ve finished it. I should be worried about what sort of place we’re going to stop in at. If there’s food, what will I order? Do I do the lame salad thing, or go for it and order the messy, double-decker cheese burger with fries?
I should be filled with a nervous excitement because I’m young, and pretty, and getting out there, and dating!
…But I’m not.
Instead, whenever I’ve been out on a date in the last couple of months I’ve compared everyone to my ex. Bad move on my part. I’m comparing them to someone already, for better or worse. No one should enter a date like that.
Or, on the flip side, maybe those dates really sucked, and my ex was the diamond in the rough.
You never appreciate what you had until its gone.
It’s a lot like childhood. You never knew how good you have it until you’re facing the adult world and ready to rip your hair out. Responsibilities you never had before are suddenly just there. Like, where the hell did you come from medical bills? Oh, and this thing called rent? It’s temporary, right? Or having to go to the grocery store and buy your own food? Mom and Dad will be dropping off a few dozen bags at the end of the month…right? Or how about these things called hormones that lead us to situations with the opposite sex where all you want to do is touch them, rip their clothes off, and roll around naked in a bed together? Yeah…never thought you’d find yourself on birth control, did you? (And for the record, I went on the Pill for other medical reasons, not in order to have protected sex. That just came as an added bonus.)
Face it, you’re making adult choices without even realizing it until you stop to hear the music.
Every once in a while, I’ll catch myself doing something I once considered an ‘adults only’ task. Those moments freak me out. One such moment? When I was packing for Spring Break 2012, and when I boarded the plane alone. It hit me out of nowhere, like a slap to the face, followed by someone shouting in my ear, “Hello!!! Look at what you’re doing! Something is wrong here! Something is very wrong! It’s like you’re an adult or something!”
An adult. Or something. Yikes. I can’t wait to start dealing with real decisions, like moving out-of-state or caring for my parents when they get older.
“Wouldn’t it be great if we all grew up to be what we wanted to be? The world would be full of nurses, firemen, and ballerinas.”
You’d have to throw in a Movie Star Actress, CIA Agent, Professional Tennis Player, Magazine Editor, and TV Talk Show Host to the list if I were to be included in Lily Tomlin’s, the very top banana of the bunch, question to the world.
This coming from a soon-to-be Academy graduate. If I spent four years studying to be an actress, I better be an actress, damn it. Or a journalist for that matter. Where’s my big-time newspaper job opening accepting me on the spot without so much as an interview question?
I might have a slight breathing problem when dating comes up in conversation, or when I get asked out on a date, I need to remember that dating is the gateway to finding that one true Love. Not everyone can have a ‘love at first sight’ relationship bloom and blossom into something really beautiful. Some of us have to work at it. It’s going to be worth it in the end.
Like the Rascal Flatt’s say, “Every long-lost dream lead me to where you are. Others who broke my heart, they were like Northern Starts, pointing me on my way into your loving arms. This much I know is true…that God blessed the broken road that lead me straight to you.”
We’re all traveling broken roads…and at the end, we’ll have what we’re looking for all along.
Being the romantic at heart that I am, I want to share with you the Best Things About Love (and if you want to gag at this point, you may do so. The lovey-dovey jive isn’t for everyone.):
– Homemade Cards
– Rom Coms (also known as Romantic Comedies!)
– Long Stemmed Roses
– True Love
– Best Friends
– The Color Red
– Holding Hands
Now that I have thoroughly depressed myself because I used to have these things at my finger tips and want to have them back, I’m going to say good night. It’s tough breaking up with someone you truly and deeply cared about. I was about to compare what this break up feels like to how divorced couples must feel like, but then I realized that would be a stupid and ridiculous comparison.
Any break-up is difficult. You can only hope that the Force is at work, guiding you towards where you’re meant to be and who you’re meant to be there with.