I worked this past weekend, and, as always I am very tired today. At least I didn’t burst into tears on my way to work this morning as I usually do the Monday mornings after a weekend of work. Although, it was quite the opposite– I was enraged that people kept cutting me off on the highway. This is Atlanta where normal highway speeds are in the 80mph range and highway 400 is considered the autobahn of the south.
After getting to work I happened to notice the calendar for the other motorcycle school I teach for stuck to the wall of my cube. I realized I’m supposed to work next weekend, too. I almost cried then. I mean, I want a life sometime.
Not that I have anyone to do anything with.
I know –me feeling pathetically sorry for myself. Again, I should feel relieved, happy, thankful that I am in a groove and things are going well, I have work, I’m making money. I never did hear back from either woman I met last Thursday and I dragged myself out to a women’s bar last night to watch the superbowl and I swear the only woman in the bar with an AARP card sat down right next to me and tried to talk me up.
And! (I’m getting better at using those) All around me there were gorgeous [fem] women with these not attractive
bull dykes butch women. One gorgeous thing was hanging off the arm of a woman who had shaved grey hair and looked 10 years her senior. (she probably had an AARP card, too) I just don’t get it. Maybe I need to embrace my butchness a little more. Ride the Triumph to the bar with my chaps on and drink iced tea. I know I need to ride out more.
On the Lee front she texted me Saturday morning wanting to know if we were meeting for lunch. Then, many texts went on to say that she would be at her chiro all morning because she messed up her shoulder playing tennis (yeah, that could happen playing 4 times a week, sure). I texted her back saying I had an errand to run during lunch and that I couldn’t, ignoring the shoulder comments. (Thankfully, didn’t hear anything back after that.) Instead, on my break I went up to the motorcycle store and put on my best dumb blonde impression and talked the sales guy into selling me a pair of bar-end mirrors for my Triumph $30 less than what was marked. I can’t wait to put them on, either.
Today, at lunch I decided that I had had it up to here (hand level with neck) with my hair and went and had it cut significantly shorter. I waltzed into work and sat down in my chair without saying anything. My boss walked by she said, “Wow! Your new haircut looks great!” then a co-worker came by and said, “Lanie – I….wow! I love it!” So, at least I’m getting noticed by the women in my
office even though they are straight.
And, when the going gets tough, the tough breaks out the Felicity & Queer as Folk dvd’s. Nothing makes me embrace my singleness like watching some Brian Kinney.