How not to get drunk and have a threesome 

*I wrote this a few weeks ago as an apology for a thing I did. I didn’t publish it here because I was embarrassed. But I’m also honest. And sometimes I do dumb things. And then I write about them.

Last week I turned 30.

This has been a big year for me.  29 kicked my ass.  In February my daughter turned one and still needed pillows surrounding her when she sat independently.  She was nowhere near crawling and I still hadn’t heard her tiny voice say “Mama.”  I chauffeured her to appointments all over Guelph and McMaster and I tried to come to terms with the fact that she might never “catch up.”

May marked five years since my dad died.  August would have been his 60th birthday.  I was always a Daddy’s Girl.  My dad was a superhero to me growing up: he could do no wrong.  The last couple years of his life were tough for us.  A huge wedge was driven between us and we never quite got back to where we were.  It will always be my biggest regret in life that we couldn’t make it “right” before he died.  As much as the skin around it heals, the scar is always there.

I also moved out on my own for the first time at 29.  I have my kids about 60% of the time, which means that half of the nights I spend here alone.  That has been really hard for me.  As much as I crack jokes about Gordon downstairs, he really has been a lifeline.  I will wake up at 2am to my floors vibrating with his snores beneath me, but damned if it isn’t reassuring.  I can’t be truly alone with Gordon ten feet below me.

I’ve also made some poor choices this year.  I’ve done things of which I am not proud.  I have allowed myself to be treated like a “piece of meat.”  I’ve spent a long time hiding emotions behind humour and I guess I’m reaping the rewards of a less than healthy defense mechanism.

I threw my own 30th birthday party because yeah, 29 fucking sucked.  Goodbye and good riddance.  Let’s begin anew.  But before that happens, let’s throw one big bash and throw inhibitions out the window.

Well, that wasn’t my intent…but it’s definitely what happened.

I did a stupid thing and I hurt someone.  This someone…this is where words start to fall apart and I picture funny cartoons in my head instead of facing the truth.  This someone…I don’t know what this someone is.  This someone is someone who seems kind and genuine, much unlike the people I have met recently.  Someone who is actually interested in ME and not just parts of me.  Someone I think I could actually spend time with and maybe even build something with.  (Oooo, Lego! No, Bri! Back on track.)

But I did a thing and quite possibly ruined the something with the someone.  I’m not sure.  He seems at least willing to try to get past it, so that’s something.  Right now I’m feeling like complete shit and like I don’t deserve it, but let’s put aside the self-deprecation for a moment (I know, unnatural).

I’m really not sure how to play this.  I can quite confidently say that this is a situation in which I have never before found myself.  I’m even rambling on paper.  All I know is that I like this someone and I would like another chance at not fucking it up.  If he would give me another chance.  I hope he does.  Even if it’s just another 35 minutes in a coffee shop.  Hell, I’ll drink water too.

Yes, Someone: I would sit in my favourite coffee shop and drink water for you.

So this is my essay…for a writer, it’s kind of shit.  I’m well aware.  But my gift is my song and this one’s for you.  (Plagiarism is sexy, right?)

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8 thoughts on “How not to get drunk and have a threesome ”

      1. What exactly were those poor choices? Is that what the original post was supposed to be about? Before you went on a rambling tangent?

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      2. You apologize via blog? Do they read your blog? Wouldn’t it just be easier to text, call, or apologize in person?

        Like

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