One of my friends has convinced me to go out on a date with one of the guys I met at the Street Fair last weekend.
It has been nearly 20 years since I dated anyone. I honestly have no idea how to go about it correctly.
I think it involves shapeware at this point. Hopefully I won’t hurt myself in the process.
I even bought some magnetic false eyelashes. I have been wearing them around town to see if I can stand them long enough to not rub them off into my drink.
Lucky him, I plan on splitting the bill. I expect equality, then I need to show it.
But how do you have those awkward conversations that need to happen like… “I can’t even give you a timeline on sex. Pick a random number of dates, and I will say that’s too soon. Plus my daughter is sensitive, offbeat, unusual. Also, I only have a twin bed.”
My friend keeps saying, “You don’t have to decide any of that on the first date. You just have to show up.”
I have my doubts.
The worst part about not being in an established relationship anymore is I have to watch my hands. The other day, while I was standing in line at a grocery store, I reached over and squeezed the hand of the guy standing next to me.
He was as surprised as I was. His girlfriend was (thankfully) cool with it. Thank Goddess I didn’t grab his ass. That would have probably lead to a throw-down.
Of course, I’ll get a manicure which has reminded me that I have a poem that I haven’t released. I wrote this one, along with karma, sometime around Thanksgiving 2018.
I wasn’t in a particularly happy frame of mind. My daughter spent the holiday with her dad and I just couldn’t bring myself to be with happy people (i.e. family). So I bought turkey lunchmeat and cranberry sauce to make sandwiches, plus a bottle of pecan-pie whiskey that I like, and played MMORPGs all weekend long.
And listened to ’90s lush grunge. And wrote poems. Including this one. Bon appetit.
index finger, right hand,
a ring of red roses.
pain I choose to withstand.
I can’t cut out my heart,
although comfort it’d bring.
I can’t bind it with ribbon,
paper, hot wax or string.
but I can remain still,
as needles puncture skin.
and remember: in life,
to survive is to win.