LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Things are starting to get pretty heavy today, but you can handle it all. In fact, you probably like where things are going, and if it’s a new romance, your heart feels just exactly right.
After my humiliating dismissal from the funeral home, complete with my mother having to rescue me, I took Tupper for a long walk at Douglas Park. As soon as I got there, I regretted the choice of venue. Douglas Park has been a war zone for years, pitting dog owners against those in the Dog Resistance Movement. I swear the DRMs have a scheduled patrol rotation and I couldn’t be sure who had the assigned duty on this particular afternoon. At whom should I glare? The Filipino nanny rocking an infant in a stroller? The two senior ladies in oversized sunglasses perched on a bench? Maybe it was the teen girl with a spider web tattoo covering the left side of her face. Wasn’t she supposed to be in class? Were facial tattoos a violation of the school dress code?
As the caffeine high worked its way through me, the paranoia and the barrage of questions continued to consume me. I played it safe with Tupper, keeping him on leash and picking up after each of his three poop stops. (Yes, he’s a weird dog. Marks his territory by tiny poo pellets, instead of the traditional urine messaging.) Part Shih-Tzu, part rabbit. I noticed one of the grannies pull out a cell phone the moment an unshaven, unkempt guy in his mid-twenties showed up with his black lab, a tennis ball and one of those plastic ball launcher gadgets. He unleashed Fido and Gran was calling for backup from the DRM.
Tupper was tuckered out so we returned home and I headed out for a jog in a further attempt to work off the jitters. By the time Gabriel came over with “The Hangover” DVD, I was fully recovered.
“We have to talk,” I began. He got this look of panic on his face. My gawd, did he really think I was going to dump him? Come on! “I had an unfortunate caffeine overdose incident today and any thoughts of a long lasting career at a funeral home are dead—not a bad thing, I guess—and we have to start putting some time limits on sex.”
He looked at me and waited for the punchline. I made my adorable (?) shriveled nose / skewed frown expression but said nothing. “Uh,” he said, scrambling for words, “don’t women usually bitch about guys being too quick?”
“Yeah. But it’s a big spectrum. There’s the Kwik-E Martin and there’s you, Mr. Long Day’s Journey into Night. There’s a lot of middle ground.”
“Don’t you like it?” Oh, no. He was taking it personally. Even pouting.
“I love it! But, when I have to work or be semi-conscious for whatever reason the next day, it’s a huge struggle. The sex is amazing! And, when there’s nothing else on the agenda, I’d pick the extended version every time, but—”
“But you’re not working tomorrow.”
And, with that, we were back in the sack. “The Hangover” had to wait ‘til morning.
BY THE TIME THE CAB DRIVER DROPPED ME OFF @ THE CONDO, I WAS DOWN TO A MILD BUZZ. HOW STRONG HAD THOSE RUM & COKES BEEN? HOW HAD THE LIQUOR HIT ME SO HARD & THEN SO QUICKLY EVAPORATED?
FOR A MOMENT, I TRIED TO CREATE SOME HOPE. MAYBE I’D MISINTERPRETED THINGS @ LUNCH. WAS I REALLY CANNED OR DID THE BOSS JUST SEND ME HOME ‘CUZ I WAS DRUNK? OK, EVEN I CLD SEE THE LUNACY IN THAT QUESTION. EVEN IF I HADN’T SAID A THING ABOUT THE NEW BIZ I’D HAVE BEEN FIRED TO EXCESSIVE DRINKING WHILE TECHNICALLY ON THE TIMECLOCK. BUT THAT WAS ONE POINTLESS IF. BECAUSE I HAD ANNOUNCED I WAS DEFECTING. I’D BLOWN MY COVER.
YEAH, HE FIRED MY ASS. NO DOUBT ABOUT IT.
AND SO, AT 2:30 IN THE AFTERNOON, I COPED THE WAY I KNEW BEST. I WENT TO BED. DIDN’T WAKE UP UNTIL 1:20 A.M. I WAS WIDE AWAKE & STARVING. MORE THAN THAT, I WAS ANTSY—I NEEDED A WALK. I HEADED UP DAVIE & STARTED CRAVING PANCAKES & EGGS. HADN’T BEEN TO A DENNY’S IN FIFTEEN YRS BUT I KNEW NOTHING ELSE WLD DO THE TRICK.
I HIT THE PLACE AS THE LOCAL BARS WERE CLOSING & I JUST BEAT THE RUSH. SAT @ A TABLE NEXT TO A BOOTH W/8 GAY GUYS CRAMMED IN. I BRACED FOR SOME CAMPY BANTER & SOME FLIRTATIOUS QUIPS THROWN MY WAY BUT THEY WERE SUBDUED & DID NOT NOTICE ME. SOMEHOW IT BOTHERED ME THAT I DIDN’T EVEN GET A LOOK, MUCH LESS A SNAPPY LINE, FROM ANYONE AT THE TABLE. AS I SCARFED DOWN MY GRAND SLAM BREAKFAST, I GAZED DOWN @ MY GUT. OF COURSE I DIDN’T REGISTER. I WAS FAT. I WAS OLD. I WAS IRRELEVANT.
THE LONG WALK HOME WAS DEPRESSING. SOMEHOW GETTING NO ATTENTION FROM THE GAY GUYS BOTHERED ME MORE THAN THE FACT I’D LOST MY JOB. THE JOG THING WAS A TEMPORARY SNAG. I HAD MY NEXT VENTURE IN THE WORKS. BUT WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO ME? WHERE DID ALL THE FUN GO? WHEN DID I HAVE TO START COUNTING CALORIES? WLD I EVER BE ABLE TO PURGE MY NEW RESEMBLANCE TO JACK BLACK?
ONCE IT WAS OFFICIALLY MORNING FOR ALL THE REGULAR FOLK WHO DIDN’T GO ON LUNCH HOUR RUM BINGES, I CALLED MADDIE TO SEE ABOUT RESCHEDULING THAT OUTING TO THE VANCOUVER ART GALLERY.
“OH, I’M SORRY,” SHE BEGAN. I TENSED UP. WHEN YOU’RE HOPING FOR A DATE, A CONVERSATION THAT BEGINS W/I’M SORRY CAN ONLY GO ONE DIRECTION. “I WENT TO SEE THE DA VINCI EXHIBIT ON THURSDAY W/A FRIEND.”
I TRIED TO BOUNCE BACK. IT WAS A RELIEF NOT TO SEE THE STUPID ANATOMY DRAWINGS ANYWAY. I FORCED MYSELF TO REMAIN UPBEAT. “WELL, THEN. HOW ABOUT GRABBING A COFFEE. OR WE COULD CATCH A MOVIE. OR—”
“I’M SORRY.” GOD, TWICE IN ONE CALL. “I DON’T SEE ANY POTENTIAL W/US.”
“YEAH, WELL,…OKAY,..THAT’S FINE,…THAT’S—”
“I’LL STILL SEE YOU AT RUNNING CLUB.”
THAT WASN’T COMFORTING. THAT WAS JUST A CHANCE FOR SALT IN THE WOUND, EVERY WED. NITE.
GOD, MY LIFE SUCKS.