Happy Friday! O-M-G has it ever been a long week, and I am delighted that it is approaching the end. The kids and I were struck by the plague late last week: I had to take a taxi home to pick up my littlest from daycare, he got so suddenly and violently ill. My oldest has been home from school the entire week. One day this week, I had to have the carpets professionally cleaned as a result of this illness - I'll let you draw your own conclusions on that one!
Submitting my timecard yesterday, I had the unpleasant realization that I am completely out of paid time off. Ugh. This is not a pretty scenario as I head into my surgery next week. Next week? Um, the week after. January 26th.
Oh, anyway, I had another very fun couple of evenings with Cappy thus far. I told you, yesterday, about the gaffe with my friend starting to talk about my weight loss while we were all at dinner. (Believe me - I am an open book. I am very hard to offend and I blather on about all the details of my life, so I *GET* why my friends wouldn't have thought a thing about talking about it, haha. Everyone is surprised, myself included, when we run into these little pockets of neuroses I've got hidden around!)
Last night, being ultra cool and hip as I now am, I was out with Ray at some bar to see a couple of very cool bands (uh, which did not start until 10pm. On a work night.). We had arrived early and were sitting around chatting. When we had been out shopping on Broadway earlier, he had found a vintage Pendleton coat that he was super-jazzed up about. Now was moving on to something to complete the look.
And just as smooth as butter, I just opened my pretty little mouth and said, "I'm getting to rebuild my wardrobe from scratch. I had surgery on my stomach (bah! Couldn't say it all the way, could I? haha) last year and I've lost a lot of weight."
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I finally pulled the trigger on saying something that is so ridiculously easy for me to talk about, except when it's not.
His response? "Cool." Or something like that.
The whole thing was pretty overly dramatic.
Now, let's talk about #holidayboyfriend, shall we? He passed through the holidays and now our respective birthdays. I sure am enjoying spending time with him, he is great fun. In many, many ways, he's like the ideal guy. I have been lamenting for a long time that my friends and I were in a rut: doing the same things, going to the same places. I freely admit that I have been going stir-crazy for awhile. I've been trying to branch out on my own, because I really was becoming unhappy with how I spent my free time. Loneliness and boredom were creeping in on me, a lot.
Oh, but this is about Cappy. How incredibly cool to meet someone who likes to do all the same stuff I do. And then he likes to do all this stuff that I've never done, which is even more fun! Yesterday afternoon, in anticipation of going out, I'll admit, my ass was dragging. We had been out late the night before. I was having a long day at work. I ran myself out of paid time off (not related to him at all). I was stressed, and the thought of another night on the town?? Ack! I was feeling every single one of my newly minted forty-two years. But it was his birthday, and I'm always up for an adventure.
And this morning - I'm reflecting on the experience. I am tired, yes, but I had such a freaking good time last night. I am so glad I went. I would rather my ass be dragging a little because I'm out doing something I really enjoy. With him, I've been going places that would have been outside my comfort zone, but would have always wanted to do. (Jeez, no place that crazy - we're not swinging from chandeliers or anything.) Places like this and this (my first gay bar!) and this and this and this and this and this (okay, this was the site of my awful art exhibit - I'm still irritated about it) and this. Gosh, that's a lot of bars. Well, I have also watched more football in the last month than I have in the last 20 years.
Continuing my stream of consciousness writing - when I write about Cappy and the emphasis on clothes and vintage fashion and how he took me to my first gay bar and did I say that our little Capricorn goat horns locked one night over the "to dance or not dance issue" (you know I am a novice dancer, and there is a delicate alcohol-to-embarrassment ratio which must be attended to if you want me to dance)...well, anyway...
He's not gay. Haha! No, he's much cooler than that - he's the super cool guy you can bring around your gay friends and he's not going to get all weirded out and drive you nuts and make everyone uncomfortable.* The gay guys do like him - he said it, and I have seen it myself, haha. And when I first showed my Sugar Daddy his picture, SD said, "Well, if you don't want him, I'll take him." He's just super likeable and fun, and I am trying not to let it get to me that he dresses a lot better than I do and actual has a very finely refined sense of his own style. This is interesting to me in that all my previous men have been of the jeans and t-shirt variety. When he was talking about various vintage clothing shops around...I purred that I planned to stop by Target and pick up another t-shirt. :) I do not think he's terribly impressed with my own sense of style, haha, but he hasn't given me any derisive looks or comments. ;) And hey, I'm new to this.
Anyway - if there was a point to this post, I have long since forgotten it. I am having fun. Probably a little too much fun. When I put it out to the universe that I wanted a fun guy who drinks socially and likes to do stuff - well, the universe gave it back to me in spades, I think. As far as a couple, or forecasting where this will go, or otherwise...I'm just trying to let it ride. It is not quite right...but worth pursuing for now.
*Many years ago, X had a gay coworker who told him he looked very handsome in a red shirt. To my knowledge, X never wore red again, and certainly not to work. So this is an example of how you can be a good, open-minded, liberal, gay rights supportive person who is still just weirdly threatened. I find it irksome.
You go, girl.
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