The weekends. I've always had a love hate relationship with them. I mean it's an ending isn't it? One week gone, sailing out into the calendar ethereal.
Bon Voyage! I'll miss You Friday! Tell Monday I hope it chokes and drowns!
It's dates that drift out and never ebb back with the tide of time. People do that too, but people wash up on shore again. Someday, you may be buying groceries and the Ex will pop up, behind a kiosk of Pop Tarts "Oh hi!"
That will never happen with a calendar. You will never spend a deskbound Tuesday ogling Friday, when Thursday January 18, 2007 appears over your shoulder and says "hey! What do you think you're doing?"
If it does, then well you've got bigger problems than your odd date fixation. You need a life.
That's why weekends can suck. If you don't have a life, weekends serve as Las Vegas neon reminders of how alone you are with every blink.
"Sux To Be You."
Blink! Middle finger
"Sux To Be You."
Blink! Middle finger.
I'm blessed. I don't have that problem. I get one day off a week and that's Friday. Most other people are at work and I gloat. "Sux to be you!" The other nice thing about the six day work week is the one free day is just enough time to go, "Ok, I need to do this, and do this, and do…" before starting all over again on Saturday.
Do, do, do, do is a dangerous thing. Not the Police song. It's harmless and fun to sing. My dad even used to try to sing it. It never hurt him. We weren't happy to be in earshot, but what the hell; it was one of his ways of enjoying the weekend.
MyEx had ways of enjoying the weekend. Despite all my bitter MyEx sniping, I will say this for her: She was great about grabbing me by the collars and then slapping me in the face, "Breathe, damn you!" I think she enjoyed it a little too much, but that's ok. She made me enjoy it. Well, not the shaking and slapping, more the weekend time thing. She made me do things. Fun things. I still hate her for the fun. If I wanted to enjoy life, I would never have been born a martyr.
Shesh!
So now that I'm alone, I have to stimulate myself to breathe. Sometimes I forget. I get wrapped up easily. Still, it's a lesson I need to learn. And I am getting better. I make sure to go out and get coffee on Friday nights. I spend an hour of my weekend flirting with baristas, drinking coffee, and watching patrons. Coffee couples are easier to watch then restaurant couples or movie couples. The caffeine jitters make the cute snuggle gestures awkward.
"Hey! You just gave me an Indian rug burn!"
"My Fingers! They're tangled in your hair!"
Yeah, far less fond-petting and eternal-staring. Just two people having fun and enjoying the weekend together. I can handle that. I'm doing the same thing, I'm just sitting by myself to do it.
Other than that I have to make time to get out in the world. I make community play dates. They're a little more random, and generally more goal oriented.
"Oh! I need the Against Me! CD."
These are the ways that I keep from keeping to myself. It's too easy to seclude yourself and exclude yourself from society. I learned the hard way. It's one of the ways I suffer for you. I learn about weekends so that you don't have to. I've made the mistakes. You go ahead and get out there. Now that I've learned to do it for myself, I'm trained. If you need somebody to slap you around so that you get out there, let me know. I'll do it. It's the least I can do dear reader. And who knows, maybe we can teach each other to enjoy the weekend.
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