I told my therapist today that I worried I might get myself into trouble this weekend, my need for contact with people is so high.
Imagine that urge, dark and insistent, to seek solace and quiet when you’re overloaded and stretched so thin you think people can see right through you. A clinging, persistent hiss in your ear to be the fuck alone. I get that to be with people.
It’s like dry mouth and I must have a long, cool slug of something lest I fucking die.
First I reached out to friends about happy hour, but they weren’t available. So I reached out to another friend and while I waited to hear from her I decided to pick up a dropped OKC thread.
Then while I was sipping rosé with her – feeling largely dissatisfied still – he and I made plans to meet up later at my favorite little wine house at 9 o’clock. I felt moderately better.
He’s tall, goofy looking, fit, funny, and a single dad. And 10 years my junior. Of course.
(My meeting with the married man this morning never happened: kid stuff popped up.)
I am going to keep a close eye on myself this weekend and maybe just contemplate my navel instead of actually finding that trouble I’m worried about falling into.
Hopefully this goody fella will do the trick for my thirst.