Let This be a Lesson to You, Girl: Don't Come Around Where You Know You Don't Belong

Some nights are like this in Suwanee, Georgia. Fuzzy-socked feet, green ottoman. The old standard. 

I started the day waking up a little late because I went to a show last night. Josiah and the Bonnevilles will always have my heart. He's what we hope musicians will be when we go to see them. He is so happy to be on the stage. He's humble and gracious and energetic and engaged with the audience. I think he almost teared up when he mentioned that they'd left up his marquis because they'd needed to add "SOLD OUT' underneath his name. He's been chasing this dream for twenty years and his big break was the pandemic. That's when I found him. Maybe he just needed time to become the musician he is now. 

I sang so loudly, I should have been told to shut up during "Jersey Giant" at the lyric "Lord, I loved to hear you wail./ High and lonesome, hard and strong/ even if it was a little out of tune." I got all teary. I felt like he looked right at me with my heart in my eyes and the stupid trucker hat on my head that is a symbol of how seen I feel.

This morning, I took my meds and logged into my day job. In the extra moments, I read 55 pages of a grant lead sent to me last night while I was at the show. I need the CFO to look at the financials and I have to convince the boss to let us apply even though the record-keeping might be intense. That grant is a lot of money. And we can use it. I think the mustang may have called me "coy." He meant moxie. And that's right. Oh, the level of my ability to compartmentalize. I'm proud of myself.

There's apparently a bit of a roadblock with our Federal grant ID. I'll get it sorted. Just my kind of task. I've got a few days to sort it out. I may have to go to the shop just to get some info for that. I feel like some of this is like walking into an unfamiliar room in the dark, hands out in front of me, tripping over things, looking for a stack of cash.

I made a connection through an old friend and got us an invitation to go present our cause and answer questions at the monthly event for the local political party. I got pushback. I think we shouldn't care which party wants our attention if it means that we can get some community visibility. It's like the Reagan assassination attempt, wheeling into the OR and Reagan said "I hope you're all Republicans" and the liberal Democrat surgeon said "we're all Republicans today." The idea is that we all want the same thing right now, so let's all work together for the same positive end goal. I don't know how in the world that is anything to disagree with. All I want is to help. People like me are not the enemy.

It was rewarding Tuesday to hear myself referred to in the context of the things I do at the shop. I do a lot. The phrase was "She's my...everything." Graphic designer, photographer, web developer, mechanical cat wrangler, squirrel herder, event coordinator, grant writer (soon to be a whole ass certified one). I do things other people there probably could do, but I have the time and the energy and the drive. I feel valued there. What a middle-aged single woman thing to say.

After work today, I went to physical therapy. I love my physical therapist. She told me today that it should be fine for me to go back to the gym. Carefully. Ma'am, I will never not be careful of this shoulder in the same way that I will always be careful of my bad left knee. I can't even explain how happy I am. When nothing else goes well, the gym. Burn it off. I've never regretted a workout. I have regrets, the gym is never one of them.

Then I had a 45-minute date. That's a great sign, right? I wish I could even say my feelings are hurt. He's the sort who wants easy. I am so many things. I am not easy. I will ask questions. I will call you out. I will take no shit and I do not play games. I do have a bit of a fascination with the way his eyes crinkle when he amuses himself. Eyes, irises ringed in forest green, then dark chocolate, then this almost golden brown. Eyes are important. That's probably the only way this man gets away with even dating women like me. Step up or sit down.

After that, I took myself to dinner to celebrate my gym freedom. I went to Mellow Mushroom. I sat at the bar, ordered a Tropicalia, opened The Poisonwood Bible and began to read. Already such a good novel. Oh, the hypocrisy. Bethlehem, Georgia, just down the road.

I realize that it was probably unwise to expect not to be bothered. I went because I miss the noise of people. That won't make a lot of sense to people who didn't grow up the way I did. Some of my safest, earliest, happiest memories are reading with white noise in the form of my family living all around me. I would love to count the hours I spent at the white Formica dining room table studying. I took all of my practice tests for the SAT and the AP exam and every childhood intellectual accomplishment I had. I felt nostalgic and I wanted to have my beer and my dinner and read my book and to feel like I was 13 again in my simple happiness. 

A man walked up and sat down, leaving two bar stools. Businessman, 50's, Korean. Our little 'burb is a lot Korean. He ordered a Guinness. American Guinness is bullshit. Flat and bland and boring. It's not always been that way to my memory. I don't know if the formula changed or if my tastes did.

I ordered a mushroom and garlic pizza and munched as I read and started my second beer. "Bruce" And I discussed foreign relations and how business relates in Asian countries to here and the beauty and joy of travel. He asked if anyone was sitting on the barstool beside me. I said no. And then I realized he was flirting. So I did what I've always done and I stuck my nose so deep in my book it would be a crime to interrupt.

Meanwhile, a text from the only romantic interest I reciprocate. And another colossal disappointment. I wish I were surprised. I am so unsurprised by any of this nonsense. It's okay, I'm detoxing. And I feel better about the romance radar than I have since our divorce. That is to say "there's not much moving on the romance radar. Not that I'm craving it all that much." I have zero patience. Apparently, that is a whole turn off, as evidenced twice in one night. I'm a difficult woman. I won't settle for half of anything. I won't settle for three-quarters of anything. I don't let myself give half or three-quarters.

I read and ate my dinner and nursed my beer. And then another man showed up and sat on the other side. Introduced himself as "Mike." I just gave him what for based on his name. No Mikes, no Jasons, and no Blakes. He then lied about his height. I knew he wasn't tall. Shortly he confessed that he was 5'6" and not 5'8". Did he think I wouldn't notice in the event that we stood up? I told him I'm 5'9" and that's when he came clean. You have to outdo a man to get past his lies.

When the businessman called me "a female leader," I balked. Can we just say "leader?" It was so tone deaf that my ex-husband joked about this sort of thing. I also despise "female" as an adjective. I always see the Ferengi. Then he did it to the bartender in another context.  I called him on that too. This man is trying so hard to land a woman twenty years closer to his son's age than his own and clearly doesn't understand what he's dealing with. 

Then just top it off with Baby Mike's absolute shock that I have a professional headshot in my LinkedIn. I can't tell if it's because I'm old or because he thinks I'm a badass. Either way. reaction was unacceptable. He made some joke about me being "fire" and it wasn't a hair pun. Yes, I know. Please go away.

The last straw was Baby Mike telling "Bruce" that taking me to Korea with him would be excellent for the nonprofit he's working on. In what capacity, I was entirely uncertain. I cannot imagine myself being popular in any Asian country the moment I opened my mouth. I'd certainly be stared at. Because I'm a freak there. I got up, told them I was going home and the were welcome to talk about me in my absence, but I was removing myself from involvement. I told them to have fun and that I was going home.

I get home and Gabe has no patience for me. I get it. I love him. He's on his way out the door to hang out with his ex-girlfriend (?) whom I love. I want him to be happy. He loves her. And she looks at him in a way I can't deny is love. I don't think he was here for ten minutes after I came in. 

Ouch, epiphany. I'm like the men in my family. I don't ask nearly enough in love. And that's probably why I'm single.  I love and just want to be loved. The men settle. And I think because of the social and cultural differences, it's easier for them. I'll have to talk about that in therapy. I'll love anyone. I can't love someone who won't let me. And that's what makes me different than the men. I want love and I will not be a conquest.

And now you are here with me, in my pajamas, on a Thursday night. I'm much happier here than I've been since I left PT. Common denominator, anyone? I love this green ottoman. I love how warm and comfortable I am in this place. And some nights are like that. I hope I have some more in Suwanee, Georgia.