She Is Unraveling

My emotions are all over the place right now. I love. I hate. I am still crazy. I am still having fun. But I am neurotic. Goose wants to give me a pill. But I think there must be an herb for this. I'll check the health food store tonight. Mav likes to call our solutions to life and body ailments The Pharmacist vs. The Herbalogist.

So I have broken this post down into parts for you to easily follow along with all my personalities.

The Love Part

So the summer is winding down. And by winding down, I mean, the people are unwinding - as in coming undone. A case of Too Much Time With Too Different Personalities. And some people are not getting along. But Destiny's Child holds strong. The best thing to come out of this summer - besides getting out of DC and coursing a new direction away from the Circle of Yukkell - was gelling with my new BFFs - Mav and Goose. Mav I have known for years, but this summer I really got to know her, as in, this girl is a Good Friend. Goose I met through Mav this summer. And that girl? I love very much too. She has a heart of gold. So in my quest to not spend one weekend in DC this summer and run away - I ended up walking away with two really great girlfriends. That, in my book, is Worth It.

The Neurotic Part (or just the Drunk Part)

Life's too short to dance with ugly men. --Oscar Wilde

Oh, if only I would heed this advice, Oscar.

Unfortunately, I was on my own Friday night. My girls were not coming down to the beach until Saturday morning. I contemplated staying behind too. I even got an email from a friend of mine - friend of the Yukkell - inviting me out to a local happy hour on Friday night because his brother was in town and apparently has some kind of crush on me. Which I don't believe but apparently he specially requested to see me. Specially! I thought about staying in town for the night and driving down on Saturday. I hadn't seen those guys in so long. But then this would go against my Summer Agenda. And I was afraid of what devices I would be left to. Lately, if a guy - and pretty much any guy - pays me attention, I buckle. I got to stop falling for the attention. Not soak it up but make them work hard to earn my attention back. This is not game-playing. This is not some Rules I have been handed down from On High. This is reality as I should live it. Trust me. I had some recent setbacks that are fucking with my self-esteem. I need to get back to Owning It. So I skipped - no, I ran - out of DC and and right into the arms of Pay Me Attention! Close your eyes.

At the bar as we were dancing I kept meeting the eye of Guy With Ring Means Married. But I could not stop staring at him. But, no, married. But staring. And he is staring. Maybe not really married. Is that the right hand? Yes. Married. Go away. But there was nobody else. He smiled. Staring. I asked for reinforcment. Confirmed. Married. Stop staring. So in an attempt to get him off my back - or was it me - I grabbed the next guy who walked by. So the flirtatious glances stopped with Guy With Ring Means Married. The guy I grabbed looked like Grover. He didn't really want to dance but just wanted to just stand there - his face excruciatingly close to mine - and tell me how cute I was. Over and over. I didn't mind. It was attention and I forgot about the married man. Finally, I snapped back to and told Grover he could go now. He wanted to know where I was going. Own it. I told him to look for me tomorrow. Bye, now. I'm definitely drunk now. Then there was some other guy in the picture of which I can not remember the details but he ended up "dumping me" to hit on my big-boobed friend instead. I didn't understand this. So, what's a boob? I saw the Guy With Ring Means Married leaving the bar. I decided to follow him - staggering behind him. Attention! Big-boobed friend stopped me. So I got on the Alcohol-Induced Crybaby Highway. And I called Mav. I need help. But it's 1:00 AM so I got her voicemail and proceeded to leave a very drunk message. Very drunk. It was rambling. Nonsensical. But the next day? Kind of funny. I can't even transcribe it because you can't understand much of what I am saying. Truly. I was drunk. But this is kind of what my outgoing text message log looked like the next morning:

1. BGA is in your bed.
2. Neo!
3. Hee!
4. Am DRUNK!
5. Uh-oh and beer goggles.
6. Girls, hurry here!
7. I said hurry!

I'll say it, "Sometimes I am not proud of myself."

The girls finally showed up Saturday morning to save me from myself. Goose had two girlfriends in town. That girl has cool friends and it is no wonder that cool girls flock to her. So I was happy they were all around. Dance with ugly men? I'm dancing with the pretty girls.

The Irritated Part

What happened to the writing on the bathroom stall, "For a good time call....?" Nobody calls. A phone is just a tool to sell, sell, sell. So I am only buying if you are calling.

This conversation Mav had with a Male Suitor on Saturday night pretty much sums up what the Boys of This Summer are all about. An honest re-enactment of what give-me-your-number-I'll-call-you-this-week actually means.

Typical Boy Of Summer: I am a doctor!
Mav: That's great, I am a lawyer.
TBOS: I am emergency room doctor!
Mav: Well, that is nice too.
TBOS: Want to go to this party a friend of mine is throwing down the street?
Mav: No, think I'll pass. Just going to go home now.
TBOS: Really? You'd rather go home than go out with someone who is fun and entertaining.
Mav: Don't look too into it. I am just ready to go home. Sorry.
TBOS: Really?
Mav: Well, I'll tell you what. You can take my phone number and call me when you get back to DC and we can go out some other time.
TBOS: No, I'm not going to take your number because I'll never call.
Mav: No problem. Nice talking to you.
TBOS: Wait! Ok then, what is your stupid number?

Oh yeah, he did. The Emergency Room Doctor turned into a mindless arrogant good-time Charlie with playground language. No, you're stupid. Are too. Stoopid Head. This leave me at Annoyed. Just let me at this conversation and there is no telling what Boa would have unleashed. Mav took it in stride because she doesn't care. Whereas my sensitivity chip is like the size of Planet Earth and filled with two-thirds waterworks. Am sensitive.

The Scared Part

Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay just a while longer? Just for talk? --Norman Bates in Psycho

So we stayed over Sunday evening. And totally got our groove on on the dance floor. The girls dancing. The girls grooving. The girls singing. The girls cheering. The girls drooling over the lead singer. The girls laughing. The girls picture snapping. The girls - wh-? dancing with Norman Bates? Let me see that picture again. There he is. Again. And again. And again. And again? Creepy. When Goose sends me the pictures I will post. And you will see that Norman Bates was swaying in the background of our pictures. Stalking. With the creepy smile. Arms crossed. Swaying. Looking like Norman Bates. Fucking Norman Bates was stalking us.

It snapped me back in shape. What herbal remedy? Nothing like a little Norman Bates to Psycho-scare you into Owning It again.