This weekend was bananas. This time last week, I I told myself that I was going to make every effort to keep a low profile and catch up on the rest I lost in the week and weekend before, but alas, that plan went down the toilet quickly as last week unfolded and I felt like I needed to release a lot of stress. I’ve really got to learn how to stop agreeing to going to everyone’s this and that to appear “social”. I guess part of me wants to appear “invested” in many of my newer friends (situationships, and otherwise), but it’s also depleting me of energy.
Last week by far was one of my more trying weeks that I’ve had professionally in a really long time. Aside from the regular stress that typically comes with this time of year, I also had the added stress of our system going offline several times and fighting with developers over numerous unexplained bugs/glitches. On top of all of that, I had two critical meetings to prepare for and a workshop to teach. I didn’t even get around to preparing for the workshop until 11 o’clock the night before because I had spent the entire week up to that point putting out fires (oh and I had promised The teacher, I’d meet him for dinner–that’s for another post though). I’m happy to report that everything worked out well. Fires were put out, bugs/glitches were resolved (in the 11th hour nonetheless), my workshop went almost too smoothly and my director and boss raved about how IMPRESSED they were with my work and my ability to work well under extreme pressure and how I’ve really, “taken on” a leadership role in the office. I was too tired to celebrate any of those successes, but made sure “treat myself” to a evening of pure idiocy with friends after work.
A good friend of mine hosted game night over his place, which ended up being a lot of fun. Usually a bunch of us will link up (formally) at a local bar for game night, but occasionally someone will actually host it in their house. At home game nights are far more intimate and cost effective. There was a ton of foolishness, drinks, cheese sticks (as well as pineapples?) and all around great fun. It was the best way to decompress after such a long and hellish week. While partaking in the buffoonery of game night, I realized (in my tipsy haze) that a newer friend of mine was kind of attractive. We’ve known each other a few months, but mostly in passing and haven’t “bonded” as I have with my other friends who were there. We tagged teamed all night on games and flirted most of the night–though I’m going to blame the majority of that on the alcohol, because we were both pretty sauced up when all was said and done. It was nice to get a goodbye hug from him when he called it a night shortly before 2 a.m.
Now mind you, I was fairly hungover the following day. Far more than I anticipated, especially since I downed several FULL bottles of water in the last hour or two of the night before I left and I even ate a slice of pizza someone ordered. I guess that’s my body’s way of telling me I’m old? Anywho, I gave myself the day to run errands and prepare for date night with Babyface. When we last left off, I was given sound advice to step back and make him plan our next date. Did he do this? Not entirely. Outside of picking he day/time and suggesting we eat some place with “decent whiskey” that’s about the extent of the planning he did. He pretty much left the rest up to me and told me he’d pick me up by 8.
So 7 o’clock rolls around and I hadn’t heard from him, which is unlike him. While I’ve mentioned before that our text message conversations are often meaningless back and forth babble, we re pretty much in touch all day (everyday). I finally decided to see if we were still on for 8 so that I knew whether or not to proceed to finish dolling up and to get back with another friend of mine who had invited me out for wing night. His reasoning being so quiet during the day/evening? He was hungover….Yeah…I’m not even going to begin to dissect just how irresponsible it is of him (at 30) to have consumed so much alcohol the night before that his body was still recovering that evening (since I too had quite a rough start to the morning). But to do so at the expense of someone else’s time is downright rude and tacky. At some point during the day, he could have touch base to let me know what was going on or hell, he could have even postponed the night all together, so as long as I wasn’t being held up on account of his nonsense.
So two hours later (mind you, it’s about 9:30 p.m. at this point) he arrives to pick me up, kisses me (as if he didn’t just pull this stunt) and asks if I’m ready, before interrupting himself and asking, “…if you’re even still hungry (ha), I know it’s a little late, I’m sorry about that.” I should have punched him in his adorable face for that remark.
“A little late” might have been 8:15, 8:30…but to tell me around 7 that you’re “getting ready and you’ll be on your way” to show up at 9:30 p.m., is very late. Matter of fact, I had a hard time deciding if I was more angry at him for not making a bigger deal of his tardiness or the fact that I missed out on eating ACTUAL dinner with ACTUAL people that would have been timely (and entertaining). Chicken Wings n thangz! Part of me wanted to scream at him (like a crazy person, but I checked myself..took a breath and proceeded to head downtown with him in the most passive and non-confrontational way possible. I spent too much time dolling up to waste it.
Since he never specifically fleshed out our date outside of wanting us to do dinner at a place that had “decent whiskey”, I suggested a classy spot that I’ve been to with a few fellow bourbon enthusiasts friends. The place is a step classier than your typical bar and has about ten pages (front and back) of whiskey and bourbon selections, organized by place or origin (country/region), then traditional, wheat and rye. Yum yum yum. I was ecstatic about this place, because I’ve grown to love bourbon ever since my ex introduced it to me last year. I wanted to impress Babyface by my vast knowledge of bourbon selections (since he told me he appreciated whiskey one night when we were downing jim beam at dinner). I smugly ordered buffalo trace (neat) to start as Babyface searched the menu back and forth in panic mode. His puppy dog eyes scanned the menu as if he was trying to comprehend a foreign language. It dawned on me ten minutes into this that he might have been overwhelmed and not well versed in the world of bourbon selections, so I offered him help. He smiled sweetly and just opted to order an IPA.
First of all…who orders a beer at a bourbon spot? I didn’t even know they SOLD beer there.
2-3 drinks in, I finally talked him into ordering a cocktail and he ordered a drink with (American) absinthe. By this point, I stopped caring to appear cultured to him probably because I was on my second old fashion of the night, like the classy broad that I am.
We never did end up eating at the bourbon spot (even though their food is amazing) because again, I believe BF was overwhelmed by the menu or maybe he was still drunk or hovering somewhere between coming off his hangover and moving into stage 1 intoixcation. He instead suggested we swing by cookout on the way back, because virtually every other decent restaurant was closed for the night. I was too sauced to argue with him at this point and my hopes to have a nice and classy date were shot to hell. I was a mixture between hangry, intoxicated and exhausted. All I wanted to do was go home and go to bed.
I don’t remember much after we got back to my place. I vaguely remember us eating–or well him eating, us laughing about something stupid in my kitchen while I sat on my counter (apparently I have him a beer and took a shot of tequila???), him playing with my cat and I guess at some point us snuggling and passing out on the couch. I definitely don’t remember that last part, just waking up from it and netflix asking, “Are you still watching”. For whatever reason we both woke up at the same time to notice that the sun was up. It was 6:30 in the morning!! Do you know how startling it is to wake up to it being light outside when you had no idea you had even dosed off (when it was dark) to begin with? I was stressed and disoriented.
After the initial shock of realizing the sun was up, he followed me upstairs to bed like a lost puppy. I was basically concerned with continuing to sleep off the bourbon, but other things ended up going down. Some really pleasurable, hair raising, back arching, heart pounding, better-than-fresh-coffee thangs. There were a few intense rounds of this and I’m not even sure how because by this point we were both fairly sleep deprived, mildly still intoxicated and zombie like. Things settled around 8 or 9 and then he eventually left around 1 p.m. (after latching onto me for hours as he does whenever we sleep together).
I spent the rest of the day wondering what just happened and assessing just how angry I was at him for his tardiness the night before. Sure, he apologized (I think once in text and once in person), but part of me feels like he didn’t quite understand just how much he actually rubbed me the wrong way. I take quality time with the people in my life seriously and I expect them to do the same. If we say we’re getting together at a certain day or time, I expect those plans to be golden and I expect transparency and advanced(ish) notice if not so I can do other things. Me following up with you an hour before we’re supposed to get together–especially if it’s a time YOU selected, isn’t a good look. Part of me feels like I should have cancelled our date to be petty and prove a point, but I have an issue and I think I’m addicted to his…
My feelings towards BF have shifted quite a bit in these past few weeks, drastically even since we started dating a few months ago…while he’s fun and I genuinely enjoy spending time with him (he’s a nice guy and makes me laugh), I’ve become more concerned (and less emotionally detached) with the physical benefits of it all. In my mind, it’s like he’s serving a very specific purpose. I know, I know, I know. This is terrible and I’m not usually this person, but man oh man. He’s got a talent.
Anyway, I’ve spoken to a few friends about this and they all agree that I should seriously sit down and talk to Babyface about his rude act Saturday night (and his piss poor efforts in planning and being decisive in general) because, “how dare he?”. One of my friends mentioned that he says like he’s either very lazy or too comfortable. While it was very F-boyish behavior (even for him–especially being 30), I don’t know if I’m invested enough to really address or entertain it for that matter. Would addressing it really assure that this doesn’t happen again? Would he even comprehend or just assume I’m being a nag? I don’t care. It’s just shown me that he’s a terrible planner and I should protect my time a little bit better for someone/some people who reciprocate those simple line items of respect. Why should I be punctual and plan my entire evening around him? If I want to go grab chicken wings with friends when I know he’s supposed to be on a date with him in an hour….why not? Why should I be respectful of his time or energy/effort? I mean, I’ve tossed around completely eliminating trying to “traditionally date” him and just get to down the “dessert”. I’m getting frustrated with him and I’d prefer to put my effort into other things.