A New Tradition, Perhaps?

Precursor – If you’ve endured an emotionally devastating, suicide attempt-inducing breakup in the week leading up to the holiday, just go ahead and arrive at The Green Compound drunk. At least you can hope for alcohol poisoning by the end of the day.

1. Each time Dad asks a perfectly straightforward question that Mom misconstrues as a criticism or insult, take a drink.

2. Each time a family member nearly trips over a cat, take one drink.

3. Each time a family member nearly trips over a doll or other inanimate object, don’t drink anything, for the love of God, you need your kidneys!

4. Each time Mom throws out a perfectly good dish because “it just doesn’t taste right,” take a drink.

5. Each time Mom throws any object ranging in size from a wedding band (2008) to a five-pound bag of cornmeal (2004), take a drink.
5a. If it was aimed directly at you, finish your drink and go get another.

6. Each time Mom throws anything larger than a five-pound bag of cornmeal, go outside and take a drink and wait until all goes quiet before re-entering the house.

7. Each time furniture is thrown (by Dad or Mom), take all of your drinks and go home. It’s pretty much over until next year.
7a. Kyle, you’re pretty much screwed on this one.

8. Each time a parent threatens to divorce the other, touch glasses in cheers with all siblings and take a nice, long drink.
8a. If one parent actually gets in the car to leave as if to make good on this threat, take one drink     every minute until said parent returns.

9. For each broken dish, one drink.

10. For each time one of the offspring tells Mom to shut the fuck up, give Mom your drink, as she will need it to ease the shock.

11. For each time one of the offspring tells Dad to shut the fuck up, bring all alcohol in the house to that offspring to chug immediately, to mollify the pain that Dad is about to inflict on this offspring.

12. Any time a weapon is pulled (gun, baseball bat, slingshot, paring knife), put down your drink and back away slowly. They’re serious, people!

13. If the family has a nice, calm, uneventful, pleasant meal and no drama ensues, don’t even think about touching a drink until next year. You’ll want to remember this.

The End of a Day

There is so much healing in the sunset. How is it that time can heal hurt and addle anger? I don’t have the energy to keep this up.

Untitled

Tonight I feel like I could write the world’s next great novel, like there are words inside me screaming for release and if I could just get them in the correct order then my heart would heal itself. Then I would no longer need you.

Protected: Thank you, Tommy Johnson

This post is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password:

Boys Club

“I immediately wind up in the friend zone,” I half-complained as we walked back to the office, an unseasonably warm November sun bearing down on us as we crossed the street to walk in the shade of a tree-lined park. “Maybe it’s because I act too much like a guy, and maybe I act too much like a guy because I grew up with three brothers.” I shrugged and kicked my sensible heels at a random pebble on the sidewalk.

“Leslie, when you find someone – and you will,” he began, his hand slicing through the air between us for emphasis, “he’s going to really, really love you for exactly who you are.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because,” he explained. “There are two kinds of girls: the ones we date and/or screw, and have no other use for, and the kind we can actually talk to, who can make us laugh, and who actually have something in their heads. You’re the second type. Add to that the fact that you’re completely comfortable in your skin and you are not afraid to be yourself, and eventually a guy is going to come along who you just click with, automatically, and the rest will be history. It’s really going to be that easy.”

I regarded him for the first time since I’ve known his as a man. Not as a co-worker, not as a friend or brother or confidante, but as a man. He is, quite literally, the best man I’ve ever met. And while I’ve never – and still don’t, just to clarify – hold any romantic notions of him or any amorous feelings toward him – for a moment I hoped that the man he spoke of would be something like him when he did come along. I believed him. And I smiled at him despite myself as he took his turn kicking at the ground, obviously a bit embarrassed by this rare moment of sincerity.

My little heart felt hopeful for the future to come.

“Can I be both types, just to different people?” I asked in jest. He laughed that shoulder-shaking, eye-rolling laugh, but said nothing as he started to cross the street and I followed him. A car passed slowly before we got too far and he put his arm out in front of me to keep me behind him.

When it was safe, he looked both ways again before dropping his arm and saying “Okay, now we can go, ” and pulling me along behind him.

Definitely, I thought.

Definitely at least *something* like him.

Thrill-seeker Seeks Thrills

What the hell am I doing?

What the hell is HE doing? He’s a man of the cloth, for crying out loud.

I feel guilty about this in a way that I should have felt guilty for the past three years. I’m playing with fire here, and so is he. We’re going to get burned. But if it works out, it’ll be worth it.

My Sunday Secret(s)

1. I forgot about you today, and for the first time in a long while, didn’t pause when someone asked me if I was single.

2. I’m starting to look forward to $5 movie Tuesdays a little too much.

3. It bothers me when he talks about her.

4. I have developed an exit strategy.