Saturday night fever

Ever have one of those days , you know the ones where you ask yourself the following questions.

Is there a full moon?

Is there something in the water?

Is this supposed to be a life lesson and I just keep missing the message?

confused

One of those days, where one minute you are fine ,  your laughing, your literally dancing, you are surrounded by some of your favorite people and you sigh at how incredibly lucky you are.  And the next minute your crying, the next minute you are talking yourself off the bridge and the next minute you are asking yourself ” what. the . fuck. just happened.

That was my Saturday.

Let’s start at the beginning shall we?

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I decided about a month ago to try Tinder again.  Why?  I don’t know why, one of those boring moments when I was reading some article on Facebook, about this woman who decided to go on 50 Tinder dates in a year.   And she found love on the 49th date!  How cliché’ I thought, while I ran my fingers over the Tinder site and installed the damn app to my phone again.

Whatever, it could happen I said to myself.  It happened to her, you need to start dreaming again, believing in love again!   Start swiping sweetheart, the man of your dreams is not going to show up at your door , riding a white horse , carrying a dozen roses.   So, get out there and find him!

how you

So, on Saturday night I had a Tinder date at 6 pm, it went well actually.  He was a nice man, he paid for dinner, the conversation was good.  But I felt nothing, literally nothing.  So after dinner, we parted ways.   On the way out he asked if we could see each other again and I said yes.  Because how do you explain to someone that your dead inside?

i'm dead

You don’t…  You just say ” yes, that would be great.”

 

I proceeded to meet a bunch of friends at a bar where a mutual friend of ours was playing in the band that night.   It was one of those ” movie scene” nights, the music playing in the back round, some of the most wonderful people you have ever met, chatting, laughing, dancing.  It was like a St Elmo’s fire for people in their 40’s and 50’s.

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My ex husband was even there.

It was all good.

I was even fine when his new girlfriend showed up.

Until about an hour later, when they proceeded to set themselves right in my line of sight and make out like 16 year olds.

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Maybe it was the Waylon Jennings song playing in the back round, maybe it was the dimming of the bar lights and the thought that I was going home alone , again.   Whatever it was, my mood slid from sunshine and green grass to; suddenly the winds picked up,  the sky turned grey and I felt the tornado sneaking up behind me.   All I could hear in my head was “GET OUT, run for your life.”

tornado 1

I drove home, crying.  Listening to Celine Dion sing ” All by myself” .  Over and over, and over again.

I crawled into bed, pulled the blankets up and got a text from a guy I was seeing about nine months ago( I use the term seeing loosely, because I am pretty sure we were just drinking together for a period of time and doing that thing you do after dark . Or,  As he affectionately called it ” friends with benefits”.

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We had a falling out and literally have not spoken since.   I looked at the text from him and thought.  “It’s been nine months buddy….NINE FREAKING MONTHS!  For all you know,  I could have had a god dang baby by now.”  ( Well except for that little thing called menopause, oh and the fact that I haven’t had sex in nine months).  BUT , whatever… I pressed my fingers hard on to the phone screen and  prepared to type, ” Your texting me now, really?  You son of a bitch, how dare you !”

But then I typed ” I miss  you , and I miss our friendship ”

crying

Freaking captain Morgan makes me mushy.

And I seriously need a breathalyzer on my phone.

About four days later while sitting across the table at a bar playing Bingo with some girlfriends, I was recounting my Saturday. I told them about the text at midnight, I told them that I swear, he is like a vulture and can smell when I am bleeding to death, because had he told me to drive to his house that night.   I would have driven 80 miles an hour to get there.

I backed up a bit in my story to go over the part where I was driving home playing “All by myself. ”

emma-glee-all-by-myself-o

My friend:  How the hell did you find that song, of all songs that night.

Me:  It’s on my heartbreak playlist on Spotify.

My friend:  You have a heartbreak playlist?

Me: Ummm, yea- doesn’t EVERYONE have one?

My friends..in unison now:  No, no Kristin, not everyone has one.

Me:  Takes out my phone.  Maybe it’s not really named Heartbreak, maybe I just made that up.    ” Looks at phone, sighs in shame, reads HEARTBREAK, shows it to friend.  Friend shakes her head, I slide it back in my purse like it’s a crack pipe and look around to see if anyone else saw it.”

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My friend:  Is that all that happened?

Me:  No, the ex called the next day.  I told him about the text from Mr Big ( I don’t really call him that, but it seemed appropriate to suddenly do so).   I told him how I wanted to go see him, I told him that I hoped someday in the future he had the chance to watch me make out like a teenager in a bar, and I hoped he was okay with it.  ( Decipher:  I hope it rips your fucking heart out.  You cold-hearted son of a bitch.  And I hope someday I have the opportunity to show you how it feels.)

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And then I blocked his phone number.

 

I think I will stay home this Saturday.   Well, unless Mr Big calls.

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