I had been anticipating his return for weeks...the last time he was in town we had lunch and some silly drunk texts, but that was it. You see I was dating someone at the time, so I was forced to practice self control that weekend. I thought then that I could see him and be alright.
I was wrong...just as all my friends had said. And now I'm left in a heap of sobs on the bathroom floor yet once again. I don't know why it's always the bathroom floor-it isn't the most comfortable spot for a lengthy cry, but I digress.
I knew he would be back this weekend...as things started fizzling out with the guy I was seeing, BD and I started communicating more and more. I started to get excited about his return to Dallas, but told myself I knew it would probably be just one night and he was back off to Florida/NYC on Monday. "There was no way, " I told myself, "that I would get crazy and attached again". My friends are all smart people, they knew better but I refused to listen.
So, the crazy started on Friday night when I hadn't heard from him by 9pm. I knew he was probably already out and didn't understand why I hadn't heard from him. About quarter after 10pm, he texted me to tell me he was at a strip club. Fair enough. He also let me know that there was another girl wanting his attention this weekend. This pissed me off a bit, fine for being honest, but why mention it. This intensified the already simmering crazy in my head. He tried to get me to come out to Baby Dolls, and I probably would have but didn't really feel all that comfortable walking into a place like that by myself. Finally around 11:30pm they left the strip club. I jumped in a cab to meet him and his friends at the Loon. We drank some beers, chatted a bit with his friends it turned out to be a really good time. The crazy started heating up a bit more when he showed affection in the bar...he grabbed my hands and put them around his back. To my recollection, he had never shown any kind of affection in public like that, even when we were dating. I was swooning at this point.
We get back to my place, and I don't think I need to tell anyone what happened then...but I do feel it's fair to mention that it was the best it had ever been...and it was always good. We woke up the next morning and did it again, and again...amazing.
So, as much I tried to tell myself that it was going to just be one night, and I should be grateful that he included me in his schedule at all, he left that morning with me wanting more. I have realized that it is impossible for me to separate the physical and emotional with him. I still love him, and I guess deep down in my mind I hope that each time I see him it will be different, that he'll realize that I could be the one to make him happy.
I didn't really hear from him on Saturday, no surprise really but I spent the evening wondering if he was with the other girl that wanted him. Did he take advantage of my feelings Friday night? Does he even know what my feelings are for him? Not even a drunk text...which I know sounds stupid, but if he texts me when he's drinking, at least I know I'm a thought in his head. So...now I've hit full on insane again about this guy who doesn't really want me. He said I would see him before he leaves, but I doubt that will happen. I have at least learned one thing over the past year with this man...he is really good at saying the things I want to hear, but not always so good about following through with the actual thing he said he would do.
So, tomorrow he will be gone again. And there is no telling when I will see him again. Life will go back to normal, and in a couple weeks I'll be ok again. To all my friends out there that warned me, you were all right, and I promise I won't come crying to any of you about this, because I know I got what I deserved.
These are the stories of a single 30-something girl trying to keep a positive attitude about life. However, sometimes it really sucks.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
when you think your car has been stolen
Ok...so I was thinking just the other day that I hadn't gotten into any blog worthy situations lately, and no sooner do I think that thought...it happens!
Saturday started off slow. On Monday I had decided that I was going to stop taking all the medication I had been taking on a daily basis because I had been feeling so tired. I stopped the Claritan, the SlimQuick, the vitamins and my Lexapro. I also decided to stop taking the regular amounts of Excedrin for my constant headaches. By Saturday afternoon, my head was killing me and I was feeling a bit off balance. So, I took half a Lexapro and two Excedrin and laid in bed until I had to get up for a fun evening of Whirlyball.
On a side note, if you've never played Whirlyball, I highly recommend finding a place to partake in the silliness. Whirlyball is a game played with ten people, two teams of 5. Each team drives around in bumper cars, running into each other and the walls while trying to hit small circular targets on each side of the court using plastic lacrosse type scoops. It's good times, especially with a few beers mixed in.
So, after a couple hours of getting rammed into the wall, my headache was no better...but a few members of the group were meeting up to play some beer pong. Aside for the headache, I was feeling better than I had in weeks...no more fatigue, and I hadn't been out for some good fun in a long time. So, I decided to hang for a bit and play beer pong.
I ended up being the only girl, hanging with 5 guys...mostly co-workers and one friend of a co-worker who was in from out of town. After a few rounds of beer pong, things start getting a little fuzzy. I had drank much more beer than I had planned...there were a couple of portable breathalizers around that night, and at one point late in the night, I blew a 0.16. I was drunk to say the least. I had planned on driving a couple of the guys home that night...but that was obviously out of the question at that point. We continued drinking, and smoking Cuban cigars-I hate cigars, but finished the whole thing. The owner of the house, a married co-worker whose wife was out of town, was concerned as to how I would get home. He handed me a hundred dollar bill for a cab and told me to give him the change on Monday.
Throughout the night, the friend in from out of town kept hitting on me. He was my teammate in beer pong, and we did alright...and he was a pretty affectionate guy, so I didn't think too much about it. Also throughout the night, I had been texting with two of the other guys...mostly joking about the guy hitting on me.
So the more I drank, the more I just wanted to lay down. The owner of the home told me I could crash there if I wanted, and told me to go lay down upstairs. So, that I did. I went upstairs with the intention of passing out. I put the hundred on the night stand and laid down in a married guy's bed. I was still texting with my other friend who reminded me how inappropriate sleeping in married man's bed would be. As much as I just wanted to pass out, reason kicked in and I got up and went downstairs. The party moved up to the living room, and little by little everyone made their way home. The evening ended with me apologizing to the married guy about losing a hundred dollar bill, because after he mentioned it to me again, I went back upstairs to find the money missing from the night stand. I felt horrible!
I sat there long enough to sober up a bit...my last reading was 0.11. I decided it was time to leave, and married guy decided he would follow me home to be sure I made it home safe. So...I made it home safe. Home and in bed...and passed out within minutes.
I woke up Sunday afternoon feeling like I had eaten a dirty sock...ah, yes, there was that cigar. YUCK. I got up and brushed my teeth and went back to bed. Woke up a bit later and made my way out to the couch. I watched a bit of TV, and then went back to bed. Needless to say, I didn't leave the house all day. My mind was fuzzy, and I spent most of my waking hours feeling horrible about losing a hundred dollars. I went to bed dreading work on Monday morning and having to face the co-workers that saw me the drunkest I had been in a very long time.
I woke up a bit late, as usual, this morning and rushed through my normal routine...trying to make it to work on time. I walked out of the apartment and into my garage. No car...my car was not there. I hit the lock button, hoping to hear the horn honk. No horn honk...panic set in. I thought two things...someone stole my car out of my gated garage, or maybe I didn't actually drive myself home on Saturday. So, I walked up to the third floor, deciding I would check all the floors to be sure the car was actually gone. Not on the third floor...so I went up to visitor parking. And there it was, the only car parked on the top floor of the garage. I got in and started to head for work feeling incredibly stupid. How on earth did I not remember driving all the way to the top floor of my garage, not to mention the walking down three flights of stairs to get home??? The bigger question should maybe be...why was I driving in the first place.
So...drunk driving or sleeping in a married guy's bed? Which one is worse?
Saturday started off slow. On Monday I had decided that I was going to stop taking all the medication I had been taking on a daily basis because I had been feeling so tired. I stopped the Claritan, the SlimQuick, the vitamins and my Lexapro. I also decided to stop taking the regular amounts of Excedrin for my constant headaches. By Saturday afternoon, my head was killing me and I was feeling a bit off balance. So, I took half a Lexapro and two Excedrin and laid in bed until I had to get up for a fun evening of Whirlyball.
On a side note, if you've never played Whirlyball, I highly recommend finding a place to partake in the silliness. Whirlyball is a game played with ten people, two teams of 5. Each team drives around in bumper cars, running into each other and the walls while trying to hit small circular targets on each side of the court using plastic lacrosse type scoops. It's good times, especially with a few beers mixed in.
So, after a couple hours of getting rammed into the wall, my headache was no better...but a few members of the group were meeting up to play some beer pong. Aside for the headache, I was feeling better than I had in weeks...no more fatigue, and I hadn't been out for some good fun in a long time. So, I decided to hang for a bit and play beer pong.
I ended up being the only girl, hanging with 5 guys...mostly co-workers and one friend of a co-worker who was in from out of town. After a few rounds of beer pong, things start getting a little fuzzy. I had drank much more beer than I had planned...there were a couple of portable breathalizers around that night, and at one point late in the night, I blew a 0.16. I was drunk to say the least. I had planned on driving a couple of the guys home that night...but that was obviously out of the question at that point. We continued drinking, and smoking Cuban cigars-I hate cigars, but finished the whole thing. The owner of the house, a married co-worker whose wife was out of town, was concerned as to how I would get home. He handed me a hundred dollar bill for a cab and told me to give him the change on Monday.
Throughout the night, the friend in from out of town kept hitting on me. He was my teammate in beer pong, and we did alright...and he was a pretty affectionate guy, so I didn't think too much about it. Also throughout the night, I had been texting with two of the other guys...mostly joking about the guy hitting on me.
So the more I drank, the more I just wanted to lay down. The owner of the home told me I could crash there if I wanted, and told me to go lay down upstairs. So, that I did. I went upstairs with the intention of passing out. I put the hundred on the night stand and laid down in a married guy's bed. I was still texting with my other friend who reminded me how inappropriate sleeping in married man's bed would be. As much as I just wanted to pass out, reason kicked in and I got up and went downstairs. The party moved up to the living room, and little by little everyone made their way home. The evening ended with me apologizing to the married guy about losing a hundred dollar bill, because after he mentioned it to me again, I went back upstairs to find the money missing from the night stand. I felt horrible!
I sat there long enough to sober up a bit...my last reading was 0.11. I decided it was time to leave, and married guy decided he would follow me home to be sure I made it home safe. So...I made it home safe. Home and in bed...and passed out within minutes.
I woke up Sunday afternoon feeling like I had eaten a dirty sock...ah, yes, there was that cigar. YUCK. I got up and brushed my teeth and went back to bed. Woke up a bit later and made my way out to the couch. I watched a bit of TV, and then went back to bed. Needless to say, I didn't leave the house all day. My mind was fuzzy, and I spent most of my waking hours feeling horrible about losing a hundred dollars. I went to bed dreading work on Monday morning and having to face the co-workers that saw me the drunkest I had been in a very long time.
I woke up a bit late, as usual, this morning and rushed through my normal routine...trying to make it to work on time. I walked out of the apartment and into my garage. No car...my car was not there. I hit the lock button, hoping to hear the horn honk. No horn honk...panic set in. I thought two things...someone stole my car out of my gated garage, or maybe I didn't actually drive myself home on Saturday. So, I walked up to the third floor, deciding I would check all the floors to be sure the car was actually gone. Not on the third floor...so I went up to visitor parking. And there it was, the only car parked on the top floor of the garage. I got in and started to head for work feeling incredibly stupid. How on earth did I not remember driving all the way to the top floor of my garage, not to mention the walking down three flights of stairs to get home??? The bigger question should maybe be...why was I driving in the first place.
So...drunk driving or sleeping in a married guy's bed? Which one is worse?
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