Something for her

The Gymgirl turns 20-something

Her: We should do something for her.

The Gymgirl turned 20-something the other day.

Brought her out to eat sushi downtown and we were going to spend a weekend at my place when my cousin decided we should throw her a surprise party at a beer joint around the way.

My cousin introduced us, you see. Well, after a fashion, but that’s another story for another time.

The thing is that I threw a surprise birthday party for Alison when she turned 30. That was the first and last surprise party I ever threw anyone. Felt guilty for Alison for throwing one for The Gymgirl. Then I felt guilty for the Gymgirl about feeling guilty about it.

Wrote once about the difference between guilt and shame: Shame’s hating what you are. Guilt’s hating what you’ve done.

When I tell people that I have little to no shame, that’s true. It’s why I was pretty good out there. I know what I am and I’m ok with what I am.

But, the truth is, that I struggle with guilt far more than most people, I think.

Logically, dispassionately, I know it makes no sense.

That Alison’s gone now and the Gymgirl’s here. And yet I wonder if I’m doing something I shouldn’t be doing. Having any joy at all. Moving on with my life. Not only going to a party but planning it.

Was going to tell my cousin that I couldn’t do it. But I refuse to be controlled by that which makes no sense.

The fact is that the main things that Alison would have wanted for me are: (a) to be right in the head to take care of the kid and (b) to meet someone good and decent that would help me take care of the kid.

Obviously, it’s way too early to figure out if the Gymgirl’s that person. If there’s even is the possibility of another person out there for me. Or if I could be someone for someone else.

But I’ve always been stupidly optimistic like that. Even when all evidence tells me otherwise.

Me: Ok.

After dinner, we went to my regular hangout downtown, Solas. A friend that’s part of the establishment lost his significant other as well. That’s his story so that’s all I’ll say on it.

We talked a few moments outside. He showed me pictures and it was too much for me to take.

So I went upstairs to a seat I used to sit at for years doing pickup, hoping it was empty. It was. So, I sat and cried.

But then my friend Drew came upstairs and sat down next to me. He’s the handsome weirdo next to The Gymgirl in that picture up there.

Me: (after a bit) I never wanted anything else but her.
Him: I know.
Me: Sorry, man.
Him: For what?
Me: For being such a whirlpool of sadness and depression alla time.
Him: You’re not. Not all the time.
Me: (laughing) Good. (wiping eyes) Well, we’re pretty sober. Let’s fix that. Lemme buy you a drink?

The Gymgirl and I ended up stumbling out of the bar after 1AM. She didn’t have a drop of alcohol because of her meds. I couldn’t say the same.

Me: Sorry I’m such a mess. I hope you still had a good birthday.
Her: It was great. Thank you.
Me: Sure. Everyone deserves a nice birthday. (thinking) You may have to carry me home.
Her: I’d do that.
Me: I know.

Location: My son’s room
Mood: conflicted
Music: I believe, I believe, I believe, I believe that I’m in too deep
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