Seriously, I know folks mean well but they need to stop telling me to take it easy. There's a lot in life I can handle, a lot I can roll with. There's an awful lot of shit I've endured and will endure, and there's stuff I can tolerate.
But there's stuff I can't. I know my limits. I know what I'm not capable of.
And so right now I'm running. Watch my white-tailed-ass leap over tall grass in a single bound.
I was hoping I could ride it out a little longer, was trying not to freak out so soon. Was trying to have more faith and believe more. Really, I can do that, given the right set of circumstances. "Relaxing and having fun" when it comes to men and sex, however, is just not something I am capable of. If that means that that I'm doomed to be alone, then fuck it. Cuz I can't afford to hang my ass out to be played with.
I'm not even going to go into specifics other than what I posted yesterday, and truthfully it really wasn't much. Just feelings, just my gut alarms going off.
I hung out with the Fat Lady and OneHalf and her kids today; riding around, going to Trader Joe's and Pathmark and Target... mundane, ordinary shit that made me feel good and normal. I love my friends because they are calm, and they don't push me when they see I'm quiet. And it's not like I didn't hear from TomCat cuz I did.... but my gut is in knots and I have my reasons. So I went to karate. And then afterwards I hung out with Big Sensei and his wife and her sister and a coupla other people they knew and I didn't... at a Spanish bar under the #6 train tracks in the Bronx. I ate tostones and chicharrones de pollo and lots of garlic sauce and two shots of tequila, and I sang two karaoke songs and for a minute I felt OK.
BigSensei and Son drove me home afterwards, and now I don't feel OK.
Vegas was a beautiful, beautiful dream but I guess it's time to wake the fuck up.