I treated my mate Sugar and I (we're both going through break ups) to prawns last night. What was supposed to be one glass of wine, turned into three...or was it four? For me, one glass of wine is already a danger zone. For some reason I can drink plenty (well...I'm called Florence because I nurse my drinks) of mixed drinks or bottled drinks, even two or three cocktails and feel cool...but give me one measily glass of wine and I'm ready to shake my ass on the table with a "Yeeeehah!!" That would not have been appropriate at Adega. On a Wednesday night.
We ended up getting kicked out of Adega and moved onto the Corner House. Oh good grief. It is a house that has been converted into an Irish Pub and anything goes. If you're under thirty you're way too young and if you're dressed up like you're going to an FTV you are going to stick out like a sore thumb...a fashionable sore thumb. Dancing is not a group act...it's partnered up.
I can't remember the last time I was a) asked to dance and b) danced with a guys hand on my back with a few twirls and dips thrown into the mix.
It was fun. One of the things that freaked Sugar and I out, was the fact that the majority of the men there were old enough to be our dads and some of them our grandfathers. They all have hungry eyes and you know exactly what I mean by that. The worst was being winked at or my favourite, having this guy lick his lips in my direction. I wasn't sure if he was trying to put his dentures back in with no hands or if that was supposed to be some sort of "Hey baby..How you doin'?" pick up.
It is incredibly weird to be back at home. I haven't lived under my parents roof in four years. It is absolutely wonderful in some instances and in others, not so much. I am loving the fact that I have my mom and dad around. I haven't eaten this well or this healthy in ages and my dad brings me a cup of tea every single morning with his cheerful sing-songy "Good morning sunshine!"
My mom plays with my hair and gives me plenty of hugs. We sit watching Ugly Betty and Greys together and I'm just really enjoying the luxuries of being home. I haven't had to worry about what I'm going to cook for dinner, about buying dishwasher or Handy Andy and they've told me that I don't need to pay rent. God, I am lucky. I told them that at the moment I am really enjoying not having to be an "adult", but that it isn't unappreciated (I'm no spoilt brat) and that as soon as I can "breathe" again I will happily assist with things like cooking meals, buying groceries and so forth. I've been told not to be silly, but I can't just lounge around doing nothing..I just have to pull my weight or I wouldn't feel right (that and the fact that I may just used to it.)
My mom and dad are just so happy that I'm home and I wanted to cry out of happiness.
However, I am getting the sms' during the day like:
"Blondie, it's mom. Are you going to be home for dinner? I need to know how many steaks to take out of the freezer and how many vegetables to cook. Love you."
"Blondie...it's mom. I don't want to nag, but it's 01h30. What time will you be home? You do know it's raining out don't you? I hate you driving on the roads. Would you like dad to come and follow you home? This is not good for your body. Love Your No. 1 Fan."
(My mom has always called herself my No. 1 Fan and I could just gobble her up...she doesn't realise how much that means to me.)
It is awfully sweet, but I haven't had to think of these things in years and I feel like a selfish shit because I'm getting annoyed. When I stumbled in this morning at 02h00 my mothers bedroom lamp flicked on I got the "This is no time for a young lady to be coming home during the week" lecture.
I... um... have been doing this for years and I'm impressed that I'm home at 2am.
It's just huge adjustments all around, but I wouldn't have it anyway. My family are absolute angels and I am the luckiest girl in the world.