Everyone has to walk their own path in life. Sometimes people join us for some of that journey. And when the time comes they go their own way. It took me a long time to figure out that there are worse things than being alone. It’s fine to share your time and passion with a fellow traveler; just never give another the power to keep you from reaching your own destination.
I left the above as a comment to a friend’s Facebook post. He lives in South Carolina and about all I know of him since I moved away is what I see from him on social media. He just lost the love of his life and I can tell he is struggling some. Not sure if my words of “wisdom” will help or hurt, but it was actually interesting (to me) to articulate my thinking on the subject of losing. Not particularly unique insights I suppose, but it is pretty much where I’m at these days regardless.
Actually, it occurs to me I’m just a coward who’s given up on finding “the one” and falling in love. But I probably know me better than anyone else does, and at this advanced stage of my life I’m just unwilling to suffer another heartbreak. Been there done that. The last time I counted it was twelve failures. Why keep searching for my future ex, right?
Three years ago I posted this picture on Facebook with the caption “the future is a mystery”:
Ah, but life does go on. I’d suffer another heartbreak just over a year later. And some other disappointments along the way. I just don’t seem to be a good judge of character. Or maybe it’s my own lack of character. Who knows? Who cares? I’m constantly reminded just how lucky I truly am. I can do this journey on my own.
Speaking of journeys, I spent some quality time with My Bitch yesterday.
First time in quite awhile I did the long trail over the mountain right next door to my subdivision.
I managed to not lose the path this time, but it may have been blind luck. A goodly portion of the trail was overgrown with this shit:
While I was out hiking I got a text asking me to play darts with my old team that afternoon. Seems they were shorthanded. I reluctantly agreed to do so. So, the match started at 2:00 and I finished my hike just before noon. Which is why I didn’t have time to post to the blog yesterday. Sorry to disappoint you loyal reader(s). Or maybe I should be saying “you’re welcome!”
Anyway, I don’t do dart league anymore because I don’t like drinking early in the afternoon. And while I suppose I could play darts without imbibing my beloved beer, I’m not willing to do so. I played pretty well yesterday and contributed some wins to the trouncing of our opponents by a score of 10-3. It was 4:30 by the time we finished and I had plans for my Friday night–the Sons of Baccus (SOB) dance competition!
I won a bunch of raffle tickets for the drawing at the SOB Aftermath party being held up the street at Rum Jungle. Although I was already drunker than normal, I decided to attend. There I was joined at my table by a gal named Shurley (that’s how she spells it) who knew my name, although I honestly don’t recall having met her. I rarely visit Rum Jungle. Anyway, she was pleasant enough company. And despite having like twenty tickets for the raffle, only one of mine was drawn, and not for the chance to win the 20,000 peso grand prize. Oh well.
At this point I’d been drinking since 2, and it was now 10. That’s a full day of hard beer consumption work. And speaking of hard, Shurley had been rubbing me the right way for awhile and managed to get a rise out of me. She made it clear she wanted me to pay to take her home for some serious fun. And you know what they say about alcohol impairing your judgement! That’s right, I politely declined her offer, paid my tab, and gave her a generous tip instead. Shurley was a good sport about it, telling me she’s glad she has a dildo at home.
So I stumbled on back to the house, made and drank a blender full of strawberry-banana smoothies, went to bed, and despite being a “lark” I slept in until 6:30. And haven’t done shit all day. I’m disappointed in myself for not walking, but maybe I needed a break. The woman who’s kids I’m sponsoring came by to collect the monthly donation and gave me a nice thank you massage. No happy ending though, which is okay. I can’t and won’t ask her for anything, otherwise it turns my act of “charity” into something sordid. Which defeats the whole purpose of giving–which of course is to make me feel good about myself!
Yeah, maybe the problem is me.
Blues outside my door
I don’t even know if it’s raining
But I’ve been here before
And I don’t wanna be here again
Every now and then
voices on the wind
call me back to the first time
far away and clear
you can hear the tear drops
falling for the last in love.
If I let you down
All I can say is “I’m sorry”
Now it’s’ all over town
So I don’t want to hear it from you
Please don’t look away it’s hard enough to say
This could go on forever
When the night is clear
I can hear the teardrops
Falling for the last in love.