Good evening, Gentle Reader. I’m going to attempt to recreate one of the aforementioned lost posts, and I won’t be satisfied with it, because it won’t be nearly as poignant. If I don’t try, though, I’ll be all sorts of irritated by it. Onward!
Last spring, the Ex-Husband and I were preparing to meet our friends, for Mimosa Sunday. Having had an early supper, we still had some time to kill before the evening began; we went to Dorky’s Bar-Cade*. After I’d killed my quota of zombies† I went to go find Ex-husband, who – as per usual – had made some new friends. What’s surprising here, is that I took to them, too. We played a four-way game of Pac-Man, quips and innuendo and hard cider splashing all about the place, exchanged contact info, and invited K. and C. to join us for mimosas.
A few weeks later, we received an invitation to join K. and C. and a few of their friends at Gameworks, which is a similar establishment, but larger, and in Seattle. We accepted, but the day that we were to meet them, I was an emotional wreck‡, and edging towards ever-popular anxiety. Ex-Husband calmed me, as only he can, convinced me that I should try going out, helped me pull myself together, and by the time our long drive was through, I was able to fake being a person – especially with the aid of one of the exquisite cocktails there.
K. and C.’s friends were a wonderful crowd, as it turns out. J., who I was seated next to, is not only a charming conversationalist, but an avid costumer, and we chatted for above an hour just about sewing and so on. Ex-husband and the others eventually dispersed to play video games, as did I, and I actually ended up having a marvelous evening, despite all evidence to the contrary, with what were essentially strangers.
Contrast this with last weekend, when I was with some of my closest, and oldest, friends, for C. W. L. Darling’s birthday. I had had a lovely day, actually, and spending time with that circle is always a pleasure. Once we arrived up in Seattle, and got out of the car, I don’t quite know what came over me – well, actually, I do. It was an anxiety attack, although much more mild than I’m accustomed to. Of course it was written all over my face. I was trying to just keep myself together and pour gin into my mouth until I could deal, and not draw attention to myself, and still be polite. I’m sure that I ruined Mr. Darling’s birthday entirely, as I’m certain that I brought down the entire party.
I suppose that I’m trying to point out the contrast, here, of being with people very dear to me, and not being able to work through my… issues, and being among a crowd of strangers and being able to fight it. It doesn’t make any sense to me, but these things never do, I suppose.
*It’s exactly what it sounds like.
†My favorite arcade game is, of course, House of Dead II, as it is for all right-thinking people.
‡My mother dated a drug-dealer who was emotionally vacant for nearly a year. This was her first relationship after my father passed away. On the day in question, she had come over, and demanded that I turn over my father’s pistol to her so that she could give it to her boyfriend, because of “a drug deal gone awry!” She… was rather forceful about it. In a haranguing sort of way. I refused to give it to her until she proved to me that she could handle it safely. So, um, that. I spent the rest of the afternoon locked in our bathroom, crying.§
§I know that the above aside is a little atrocious, but it’s true. Maman has, of course, broken up with the lout in question, since. The gun is safely in custody of people who know how to use it. I get to use the highly dramatic phrases “Drug Deal gone Awry!” whenever I please. That’s a happy ending, right?