Last night I went out with some friends from middle school. We met at a local bowling alley, so I assumed there would be some bowling. I was wrong. I have a short attention span, so I try to give myself an out by meeting people in places where there are some fun physical activities. Much to my disappointment, the Dance Dance Revolution arcade game was out of order as well. I was stuck sitting in the bar, being reminded that most people get married and have children and Party Girl is not an acceptable life path. The funny thing is that, although my peers have their serious lives to return to, they enjoy a good time and hearty laugh as much as I do. However, I'm greedy. I want it all the time. I don't want to live one single day without smiling and laughter. If I can throw an orgasm or two in there as well, even better.
I sometimes feel guilty about wanting nothing more than to feel alive and enjoy it. The world outside says that I should want something else. It says that I need more material possessions and more money. It says that I should be more beautiful, thinner, smarter. It says that I (and the thousands of people who are my neighbors, coworkers and friends) don't really exist. I am strangely comforted by this. I truly enjoy the anonymity that most people resent. I can seek carnal pleasures without fear of public humiliation. I can be a geek, dork, freak or weirdo. I'm free to pursue whatever desires I please...within reason of course.
Speaking of reason, I was struck by a moment of clarity last night. I decided not to drink the Long Island Iced Tea I ordered because I was already sobering up and I wanted to get out of that boring place. I hadn't gotten my weekly dance quota, so I was determined to go out and get it. The old classmates and I headed over to a jazz club, where one of the girls' husbands played with his Calypso band. We had a good half hour of dancing (maybe more since I have that annoying habit of losing track of time). I had a glass of rosé, and well, I didn't need it. The sobriety I was starting to feel disappeared and I found myself a couple of notches higher on the party scale than everyone else. Awkward!
Afterwards, I went to the waffle house with the last two people - both men as usual. One had flown in from Miami and was the reason why we all decided to get together, the other is local and has had a reputation of being a playboy since our early teens. When I looked at them as strangers, I couldn't envision them as friends. However, fate has a way of making unlikely matches.
No comments:
Post a Comment