If you asked me today if I've ever loved...I will hem, haw and probably shrug my shoulders. To be honest I really don't have an answer. I can tell you that at the time when I was in those relationships I believed I loved the man I was with. But I find today that I don't feel anything like that towards those people I once invested so much time in. Our society tries to keep things simple so we casually say we used to love them but we are no longer IN love with them.
I personally am not willing to let myself off the hook quite that easy. I tend to choose my words very wisely and since I have difficulty sharing my feelings, I wouldn't have said it if I didn't believe I meant it. I also won't cheapen my experiences in those relationships by simply saying that in hindsight, it was just infatuation, because it wasn't.
In my mind, love is, or should be unconditional, which means I should still wish you the best and not necessarily harbor any ill sentiments towards you once things are all said and done. It doesn't mean I have to be willing to do a do-over but (at least I think) my skin shouldn't crawl at the mere mention of your name.
And that's where I find myself. Considering that I've never been broken up with, and I'm the kinda person who REALLY invests myself in relationships to the extent that I don't play that let's take a break stuff, or I don't make decisions while angry, and once I've decided I've had enough I've had enough and I don't look back, I can see why I don't reminisce about my past relationships, because when I decided I needed to leave, I made sure it was *really* over for me, and never once have I ever thought about going back to anything I've left behind.
The wrench in my path, however, comes from the long term non-relationship I had with Ole Faithful. We did the whole no strings attached shindig for 2 years...longer than any legitimate relationship I've ever had mind you, where the first year he spent trying to get me to let him update my plumbing system, and the second year giving sporadic tune ups. In that time, he was someone who I came to respect and trust physically, and assumed (incorrectly) that he felt the same.
I always joke with my friends that there ain't nothing like a strong man to make you wanna submit (lol) And with our interaction I think that was very true. My last two BFs we're definitely more emotional than I am, one being insecure in life and the other, insecure in our relationship. which grated on me as time went by. Ole Faithful, not so much. He was just as stoic as I am, and besides his physical strength, he seemed to get me, even if he was reluctant to let me get to know him. He challenged me, but never pushed so hard as to arouse my stubborn combative nature (I hate to admit it, but not everything I do and say makes sense, i.e. I once told him we couldn't have segzy time because I ain't know him like that....yet I was nekked in his bed for SHAME, I know), and I can say I learned a lot about myself from kickin it with him (hence the respect). I even let him be ringmaster in Le Sac, which is REALLY out of character for me. As small as I am, I'm usually the one who dominates...and truthfully, it is nice to be dominated every once in a while.
But anyway, now that that's all over, based on my current concept of love, I could argue that I loved Ole faithful. I would never argue that, but you get my point. Despite everything I went through with him, I still feel no ill towards him, maybe even still have a little positivity left in my mind. If love is really supposed to be unconditional, then wouldn't this be evidence of that?
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Bartender Vision pt 2 "blame it on the alcohol?"
*** mind drifts back to early days at the new spot***
Twas a crowded Wednesday at the bar. The DJ was playing all my favorite reggae songs, and even threw in a couple old school west coast jams like "I got 5 on it". I noticed a patron enter wearing some grey leggings, and triangle top bikini under a red cropped jacket. She was on the heavier side but who cares? She is GETTIN it on the dance floor and she orders two zombies (in the best DC accent you can imagine) from me and tips well.
The night progresses, the bar gets so busy I don't even notice that It's Last Call. We stop selling liquor, the lights come on and the DJ is playing the last couple of songs. The zombie loving patron is still on the dance floor getting, only now that some space has been cleared by exiting revelers, she has begun somersaulting (read: forward roll) back and forth across the floor which I am sure is now littered with napkins and spilled drinks.
At our spot, we don't usually don't end the night with slow songs like you might find at hip hop or top 40 clubs, so you're going to hear a lot of soca and dancehall from the height of the evening til the end. Well the zombie loving patron ups the ante and starts p-poppin in a hand stand...or better yet, a headstand. Then she tucked out of the headstand, and somersaulted across the floor only to stand up and resume wine-ing. It was a sight to behold ... by this time I could see her cheap cotton thong poking from the top of her gray leggings. And when she stood up and collected herself when the music finally turned off, you could also see her nipplets had slipped from out of her triangle top from all of the turbulence. eck! And yes, I saw it all and instantly named her the nekked contortionist.
While I haven't seen her nipples since (thank GAWD!) there has only been one time that she has not been rolling on the floor by the end of the night. and she comes at LEAST a couple times a week. All she drinks is zombies and shots of 1738. every now and again I can get her to try long island concoctions...but she don't want nothing that ain't strong. I figure if she wears, cut up leggings and a crop top in the dead of winter, I can only imagine what she does or doesn't wear in the summer...I'm not so sure I want to know but I'll find out soon enough.
The other thing I been thinking bout as of late...I wonder what she does for a living? It's not like she's a young college student acting reckless at the club...she's at least in her late 20s or early 30s and she always comes by herself...so I just wonder what is she like before or after she leaves the club? hmmmn
After all the tabs are closed and everyone has left, I clean up for the night. Many of the regulars are my bosses friends, or long time associates. One in particular offers me a ride home. He seems nice and genuine I guess, but I don't get in cars with people I don't know. Hell! I don't get in cars with a lot of the people I DO know, but I digress. I politely decline. he doesnt seem to wanna take no for an answer. I get a ride home from the other bartender, he offers to follow us. I vehemently reject his offer. Part of othe point of me not getting in his car is I don't want people knowing where I live, in case you are a stalker, the other point is to not end up in a ditch somewhere... Day one, Victory: ESS
That saturday, some of the staff (meaning DJ, bartenders, owner, buddies) decide to go to breakfast after work. To Infinity and beyond (TINB) tags along. He bores a hole through my neck with his eyes over breakfast, and I ask the other bartender if this guy is crazy weird...via text of course and she says, once he latches, he doesn't let go. I get the message.
Luckily the DJ, with whom I have a rapport, is going to his girlfriend's house, who lives in my direction, so I quickly jump on his offer to give me a ride home. TINB looks angry, like OJ angry and I'm glad I got away... The DJ and I laugh, I live to bartend another day.
The following week, the staff decides to skip breakfast and just go home, so the DJ does not stick around but TINB certainly does. I text him to let him know the stalker is upon me and he laughs. He tells me that's what I get for wearing leggings and names me vodoo booty!
What a twist of fate! I'm the one who is constantly doling out monikers, and here I have been named...
Twas a crowded Wednesday at the bar. The DJ was playing all my favorite reggae songs, and even threw in a couple old school west coast jams like "I got 5 on it". I noticed a patron enter wearing some grey leggings, and triangle top bikini under a red cropped jacket. She was on the heavier side but who cares? She is GETTIN it on the dance floor and she orders two zombies (in the best DC accent you can imagine) from me and tips well.
The night progresses, the bar gets so busy I don't even notice that It's Last Call. We stop selling liquor, the lights come on and the DJ is playing the last couple of songs. The zombie loving patron is still on the dance floor getting, only now that some space has been cleared by exiting revelers, she has begun somersaulting (read: forward roll) back and forth across the floor which I am sure is now littered with napkins and spilled drinks.
At our spot, we don't usually don't end the night with slow songs like you might find at hip hop or top 40 clubs, so you're going to hear a lot of soca and dancehall from the height of the evening til the end. Well the zombie loving patron ups the ante and starts p-poppin in a hand stand...or better yet, a headstand. Then she tucked out of the headstand, and somersaulted across the floor only to stand up and resume wine-ing. It was a sight to behold ... by this time I could see her cheap cotton thong poking from the top of her gray leggings. And when she stood up and collected herself when the music finally turned off, you could also see her nipplets had slipped from out of her triangle top from all of the turbulence. eck! And yes, I saw it all and instantly named her the nekked contortionist.
While I haven't seen her nipples since (thank GAWD!) there has only been one time that she has not been rolling on the floor by the end of the night. and she comes at LEAST a couple times a week. All she drinks is zombies and shots of 1738. every now and again I can get her to try long island concoctions...but she don't want nothing that ain't strong. I figure if she wears, cut up leggings and a crop top in the dead of winter, I can only imagine what she does or doesn't wear in the summer...I'm not so sure I want to know but I'll find out soon enough.
The other thing I been thinking bout as of late...I wonder what she does for a living? It's not like she's a young college student acting reckless at the club...she's at least in her late 20s or early 30s and she always comes by herself...so I just wonder what is she like before or after she leaves the club? hmmmn
After all the tabs are closed and everyone has left, I clean up for the night. Many of the regulars are my bosses friends, or long time associates. One in particular offers me a ride home. He seems nice and genuine I guess, but I don't get in cars with people I don't know. Hell! I don't get in cars with a lot of the people I DO know, but I digress. I politely decline. he doesnt seem to wanna take no for an answer. I get a ride home from the other bartender, he offers to follow us. I vehemently reject his offer. Part of othe point of me not getting in his car is I don't want people knowing where I live, in case you are a stalker, the other point is to not end up in a ditch somewhere... Day one, Victory: ESS
That saturday, some of the staff (meaning DJ, bartenders, owner, buddies) decide to go to breakfast after work. To Infinity and beyond (TINB) tags along. He bores a hole through my neck with his eyes over breakfast, and I ask the other bartender if this guy is crazy weird...via text of course and she says, once he latches, he doesn't let go. I get the message.
Luckily the DJ, with whom I have a rapport, is going to his girlfriend's house, who lives in my direction, so I quickly jump on his offer to give me a ride home. TINB looks angry, like OJ angry and I'm glad I got away... The DJ and I laugh, I live to bartend another day.
The following week, the staff decides to skip breakfast and just go home, so the DJ does not stick around but TINB certainly does. I text him to let him know the stalker is upon me and he laughs. He tells me that's what I get for wearing leggings and names me vodoo booty!
What a twist of fate! I'm the one who is constantly doling out monikers, and here I have been named...
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