Last night, I went out with one friend I haven't seen in a long time and another who I haven't seen in even longer. We ended up back at the apartment that I'm half ass (could half ass be a hyphenate? Half-ass? Doesn't look correct.) occupying, already tipsy. We kept drinking and decided to go for a walk, which brought us to Red Star on karaoke night.
The night was going along nicely and I was really happy until, suddenly, I wasn't. Thinking back on it, I think it happened when a guy hit on me. This guy has hit on me before at Red Star (though I don't think he remembered me): My friends had left and I was finishing up my drink and decided to do some reading, when he approached and asked, "are you really reading a book? I'm not real big on books!" Suffice to say, I wasn't impressed.
So anyway, I'm dancing to someone singing a The Who song, when this guy grabs me and twirls me around. I kept twirling and he stopped me and said "you're so beautiful. Can I talk to you outside?" He grabbed my hand and I'm terrible at saying no, I'm shooting eyes at my friend, who grinned at me like this was a good thing. We walk outside and he takes my hand. I blurt out, "I'm seeing someone." The guy was pretty drunk or pretty mellow; he smiled and I walked back in. But there was just this horrible moment where I realized how horrified I am of "the scene," of dealing with guys I'm not into, of not truthfully being able to rely on the boyfriend backup. Something more than that too that I don't quite have the words for; a simultaneous desire to be loved and to be alone. I started thinking about all these relationships ending in my life and things changing and I knew I needed to get out of there, so I told my friends I was ready to leave and we started the walk back.
I walked out feeling overwhelmed, nervous almost, between the extreme humidity that left me feeling like I was breathing underwater, the alcohol, the sadness, that I just wanted to run. So, after awhile, I took off, in my dress and sandals, down 9th street, trying to just...get rid of it. I quickly realized Christie was running behind me, that I was probably worrying she and Josh, so I slowed back down to a brisk walk until we got back to the apartment. I'm not some manic pixie dream girl (copyright: Jezebel.com), but there's something so escapist about being wildly desperate, uncaring and selfish, running down a street away from people just because you're sad, that I can see where it could be addictive to be that way all the time.
I came home in tears and when Ravi asked what was wrong, I half-screamed at him, "I'm just SAD!" We haven't talked about it since. I feel better today, but off. Like I needed to get all that out yesterday and some of it is still backed up inside of me. Tomorrow, I'm going to New Orleans with my mom to look at my soon-to-be place, thanks to the wonderfully amazing Ann, and to have lunch. My mom has really been this grounding force for me lately. More than ever, I find myself turning to her for friendship and advice. I'm hoping spending some time with her tomorrow will set me back to rights.