Disclaimer

I've had much too much to drink in the last 2 hours.  So much that I started stumbling and a friend took me home.  I haven't stumbled in public since college.  It was this lovely vodka cordial. I think it it was pure alcohol.  If this looks coherent, it is only because of spell check.

I get home from a party.  I've drunk much too much.  My fingers tingle.  The crown of my head pulses in a way it hasn't for years.

I'm crying.  A dry sob, and then I bite the palm of my hand.

I hope I didn't make a fool of myself at the party, but I did drink much too much.  I can't believe how late it is, though.  The time flew by.  Flew.  I got there at 8:30 and it is already 1:30.  Where did 5 hours that felt like 1 go.

I can't believe he cared more about work being 'awkward' than he cared about me.

After I type that sentence, I have to stop and get the sobs under control.

But there it is.

I wonder if he ever actually cared about me.

Deep down, I know he did.  Or think he did.  But is it only hope that he did? Until January, he was so delighted that I was interested in him, he would say things like "I can't believe you're into me."  And then, somehow, we lost it.

I still can't believe he cared more about not feeling awkward at work than he did about trying to stay with me.

He didn't even try and say he'd change or that he really wanted to be with me.  

He is a little shit.  He got under my skin and then he took that for granted.  He took me for granted.  And my cooking and cleaning and getting him his favorite foods and helping him with work.  I was so stupid.  I should never had drunk this much--but I really didn't think I was drinking that much--two glasses and they weren't even wine glasses, they were beautiful, delicate and fairly petite flutes, without stems--no more than, I'd guess, 4 ounces in each glass, and I put 3 ice-cubes in each glass and only had two glasses--what the hell was in that?  I couldn't taste the alcohol.  I feel the crown of my head pulsing. I've drunk too much

Part of me says I shouldn't publish this.  Part of me says this in probably more interesting than most of what I publish.  No one reads my blog anyway.   Of the 51 page views yesterday, 19 of them were from Russia.  Well, actually, I'm a little pleased that 21 were from the U.S.  Is that prejudice?  But I assume every  hit from Russia is a mafia boss trying to do identity theft and every hit from the U.S. is a boy trying to get off on kinky stuff with adult warnings.  I'm sorry.  Really.  I'd make it kinkier, but I just don't think subtly in that way.  Maybe someone reads my blog.  But why?  Some people like my blog, but that doesn't translate to real life.  Except MaxEarnest.  He's the only one willing to put up with my rough edges.  And he and I, well the fucking Atlantic!  Just when I think I can handle it, it gets bigger!  Not only are there oceans between us, but even the oceans are getting bigger.  I want someone more than this generation to care about.  (sobbing break.)

I think I should drink some water and try and stay up until I sober up a little bit.  I can't believe how drunk I am.  I can't believe he didn't care about me, a little.  Part of me says that maybe he did.  He had to know something was up--I texted him "I think we should talk" earlier in the day.  Maybe that is just his coping mechanism.  Or maybe not.  

Something changed in the last month between us.  I really don't know what it was, but something changed.  I wish I knew what it was that did it.  I can't believe that getting his the job was what doomed our relationship; he wanted it so badly. And even if that was what doomed our relationship, well better now than later.  Sooner or later, I would have done whatever I could have to have helped him.  And he really wanted that introduction.  Maybe it wasn't the introduction; maybe it was that I helped him get the job he always wanted and he couldn't handle two things at one time.  I don't know.  I don't think this was my fault.  

It is amazing how quickly my hard-wrought self-esteem disappears.

Part of me thinks this is for the best.  I have no regrets.  He made it very clear I did the right thing.

But it really would have been nice if he had apologized.  It would have been nice if he had made an effort.  But I suppose if he were the kind of man to make an effort, he would have done that already.

I have so much to offer the right person.  But I seem to live in a world where "Here Comes Honey Boo Boo" gets twice the ratings of a Bill Moyers documentary.  And I'm more of a Bill Moyers than a Here comes honey boo boo" kind of girl.  And the BIll Moyers men are married already.

Dotty can't imagine I will be alone.  I love her and respect her so much.  But I think she is wrong about us all.  She thinks we'll all find husbands.  I think she is delusional...   I am beginning to think I should just throw up.  But I don't know how.  I really drank much too much.  If i focus hard, I can be clear and coherent.  But I'm just trying to stay awake another half hour so I can sleep through the night.

What do I know:

I love MaxEarnest, but he doesn't want to make a life with me or doesn't see a way our lives are compatible.  On my good days, I say he is clear about what is good for him.  When I'm feeling self-pitying, I feel he doesn't love me enough to compromise.  Go with the good days.  He knows what is good for him and what wouldn't be.  Just as I do.  But we recognized each other. Named each other. Love each other.

John loved me.  And he was ill and recognized it and tried to protect me.  He loved me.

I think Tony was shocked when I told him I wouldn't be his friend.  But 'friend' means something to me and it wouldn't have been reciprocal.  He collects ex-girlfriends and I don't want to be part of that collection.

Oy, there is some good stuff here, but too much booze.  And I have to sleep.  Water, then sleep.  "Hangovers are 90% dehydration."  See, I learned something in high school health!  

So, to publish?  What the hell.  My blog is basically therapy in public.  Well-analyzed ideas (mostly--at least from my perspective) that are coherent, instead of the free-wheeling, tangents my mind usually plays.  Well, free-wheeling, alcohol fueled tangent, here you come!


Update:  I just threw up.  A lot.  (Like a quart!) I haven't drunk so much I threw up since college.  I must say I feel much better.  I'm not worried about having to stay up anymore--only that I'll sleep longer if I wait a bit. But I really don't understand. I literally had 2 drinks that were probably 4 ounces each, including ice and room at the top.  What the hell was in those drinks?  I don't understand.  I hope like hell I didn't make a fool of myself.  I'll text the lovely hostess an apology tomorrow.  I remember working like hell to control my behaviour once I realized I'd drunk too much.  Mostly trying to shut up and not dominate the conversation, but at the end thinking "is this what alcohol poisoning feels like?" And then I stumbled and she got me home.  I probably talked too much about myself, but I don't think I embarrassed her.  I apologized (probably too often) for having drunk too much and one of my friends said something like "wow--you are the best behaved drunk I've ever seen--I don't ever want you to see me drunk."  So, hopefully that ridiculous, self-conscious monitoring of my behavior kept me from embarrassing the hostess or making a fool of myself.  There was someone at the party I'd like to keep in touch with!

I assume normal people don't monitor their behaviour so carefully when they're drunk.  Or ever.  I wonder what it would be like to just talk without self-censure.