Warning: Drunken blogging ahead. (Wow, I almost typed "Blunken Drogging". Uhhhh, yeah.)
So. Day 1 of Lent. I'm giving up self-defeat, remember? Which I would describe, in my case, as all the crap which lends itself to my Drama Queen persona--drinking, over-analyzing, worrying, blah blah blah.
I (stupidly. STUPIDLY!) agreed to go out tonight with a friend from work (whom I briefly considered dating just after my divorce) and his fiance, her brother, and assorted others. Now, I know I don't have anything in common with these folks, all said and done. But I like my friend, and his future brother-in-law is doing me a favor by appraising something material for me, so sure, I can take an hour to have dinner at a restaurant 2 blocks from my house. I'll meet them there after I drop off the kids, I'll have a bite to eat, I'll come home after an hour, all done.
I'm very uncomfortable as the evening begins because at heart, I'm pretty anitsocial in situations like these. I love to go out with my friends, I love to meet new people, but I wasn't all that into being here. Plus, we have to wait for a table (it's Kids Eat Free night), I'm stressed cause I have a lot to do at home. So, okay, I'll have one drink while we wait for the table.
Then they finally show us to our table. As we walk to it, I make eye contact with the woman in the booth directly across from it. Who happens to be...
(you knew this was coming)
The Woman Whom My Husband Fucked And Then Left Me For.
Wow. What a fun night this has turned out to be. I can drink 5 vodkas in an hour on an empty stomach. Who knew?? Wheeeeee.
Is this God's way of telling me not to be a pretend Catholic? Hmmm. Maybe I'll just go for something simple next year, like not sticking red hot needles in my eyes. THAT I bet I can do. Fuck me very much. G'night.
Go home now!