Back to Normal
So I've had the longest bunch of days..ever. I think I've been tired since Saturday. I wasted about fifty dollars buying a new outfit for a wedding for a girl I've never met and don't know and will probably never see again. The only good part about that is that I look rather cute in the outfit (thanks to Britt, my personal stylist). So the wedding was nice, it was in a beautiful church, and I cried a bit at the ceremony because I pray to God someday this will happen to me. Between the church and the reception we went and checked into our hotel. At the reception I had several drinks. About enough to keep up with about a hundred of the beers Bridget had. And now I know she is the nastiest drunk I've ever seen, but I will choose to overlook that. The night was a mix of tears and cursing and not sex, because even though I enjoy drunken sex that would have been emotionally painful. The rest of the weekend was nice, and I really don't remember enough of it to describe. But I do know that we spent a whole 8 or so hours apart on Monday before I drove to the Ridgewood train station to go into the city with her. On Tuesday, my only day off, we had a good couple of hours. I woke up to her holding me, and then showered, wore her capris and flip flops out, and we headed to lunch. I decided I could never ever live in the city, it's too unfamiliar, and I frankly don't want to spend the time getting familiar with it. We went to lunch at Friday's...and then we went shopping because apparently I only like to do "lazy things". She wanted to go to the pier or whatever and go on some trapeze thing, and I was too tired to tell her no until she suggested we just stay on that street and shop. I wasn't aware that her translation of shop was really drink all afternoon. I guess she was lying when she said she goes to B&N and reads, cuz that would have been really nice. Drinking coffee, reading magazines, holding her hand. But I guess..I dunno I must stress her out like crazy because she drank like a fish. And she broke up with me. And cried. And called me an asshole. And heartless. And I could smell the beer on her breath. And so help me God I wanted to hurt her. But I didn't. Because that's not me. That's the anger I got from Daddy. Maybe he passed his depression on to me. Or I'm bipolar. Did I mention the hysterical crying while walking down the street? Cuz it's really not worth mentioning. Must have been all that watermelon pucker. Which is most definitely something I will drink again and again. Note to Britt, let's get some for Saturday. I'm stressed. Beyond stressed. When I got home today I was so fucking happy. I held my baby and we sat on the floor and played together and she followed me into my room, and rested her little head on me while she sucked her thumb. I took a nap back to normal. It was nice. I will now be spending a million hours with Britt and Tommy and the remaining days of summer.