Bachelorland
The house is quiet. Or, it would be quiet if I weren't currently blasting the Phoenix song "Long Distance Call" at a volume that's only acceptable at construction sites that use dynamite. But, neighbor's be damned, I don't care.
For I am, for 24 hours, a bachelor.
The weekend with my girlfriend's mother was a bit trying, not going to lie; in the interest of discretion, I'll only say that the woman is difficult and drinking a pint of Jim Beam last night was pretty much unavoidable and entirely necessary. But, because we love each other very much and are quite good at working as a team, we were able to keep things from spiraling into a domestic incident by making silly faces at each other behind her Mom's back, taking turns fielding the numerous questions about seemingly random miscellany, and sneaking off for the occasional make-out session and neck rub. We are, in short, the Dynamic Duo of Dealing.
Anyway, my participation in the weekends events have come to a close; She and her mother have gone to Pennsylvania for the night, a trip I couldn't make because of work tomorrow.
Oh. Darn.
While I'm personally glad to end my involvement in the whole proceedings, I hate it that she has to go it alone. I joke about it but, end of the day, if it were up to me I'd be in that car with her without hesitation. Walking down the Trail of Tears is always easier when you've got a buddy to lean on.
But, being as how I'm not there and am, in fact, alone in Brooklyn, I'm faced with an interesting predicament:
I honestly don't know what to do with myself.
This is the first night she and I have spent apart since we moved in together 6 months ago and I'll be damned if I don't already miss her just a little bit. It seems like I should be doing "guy" things; strutting around in my underwear drinking a beer, watching as many hours of baseball as the TV schedule will allow, eating horrible buckets of fried take-out goodness slathered in hot sauce, etc. The problem is, I do those things anyway and with my girlfriend's consent and, usually, direct participation (the answer is yes, my girlfriend is cooler than yours).
I suppose the best thing to do is just attempt to enjoy a bit of solitude and to remember that this how it used to be... me in an empty apartment with only beer and TV as companions. In other words, it's a nice reminder of what I've got now.
Bachelorland: It's Depressing When You Really Think About It!!!
For I am, for 24 hours, a bachelor.
The weekend with my girlfriend's mother was a bit trying, not going to lie; in the interest of discretion, I'll only say that the woman is difficult and drinking a pint of Jim Beam last night was pretty much unavoidable and entirely necessary. But, because we love each other very much and are quite good at working as a team, we were able to keep things from spiraling into a domestic incident by making silly faces at each other behind her Mom's back, taking turns fielding the numerous questions about seemingly random miscellany, and sneaking off for the occasional make-out session and neck rub. We are, in short, the Dynamic Duo of Dealing.
Anyway, my participation in the weekends events have come to a close; She and her mother have gone to Pennsylvania for the night, a trip I couldn't make because of work tomorrow.
Oh. Darn.
While I'm personally glad to end my involvement in the whole proceedings, I hate it that she has to go it alone. I joke about it but, end of the day, if it were up to me I'd be in that car with her without hesitation. Walking down the Trail of Tears is always easier when you've got a buddy to lean on.
But, being as how I'm not there and am, in fact, alone in Brooklyn, I'm faced with an interesting predicament:
I honestly don't know what to do with myself.
This is the first night she and I have spent apart since we moved in together 6 months ago and I'll be damned if I don't already miss her just a little bit. It seems like I should be doing "guy" things; strutting around in my underwear drinking a beer, watching as many hours of baseball as the TV schedule will allow, eating horrible buckets of fried take-out goodness slathered in hot sauce, etc. The problem is, I do those things anyway and with my girlfriend's consent and, usually, direct participation (the answer is yes, my girlfriend is cooler than yours).
I suppose the best thing to do is just attempt to enjoy a bit of solitude and to remember that this how it used to be... me in an empty apartment with only beer and TV as companions. In other words, it's a nice reminder of what I've got now.
Bachelorland: It's Depressing When You Really Think About It!!!
posted by Clinton at 5:51 PM
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