I’m not sure what’s been going on with me lately. I feel like I’ve lost complete focus. True, this project I started with a client in October that was supposed to be long term is now up in the air. But instead of, oh, I don’t know, working on the third Sex, Life, & Hannah book, or the Lila book, or my mom’s craft book, or any of the number of other tasks that have not been completed yet, like taxes, I’m…shopping. And cleaning and blogging…but mostly shopping. This is not typical for me. I mean, I shop, but not as a daily activity. It’s like I’ve become this housewife, but I don’t even have a kid to justify my behaviour.
I need some kind of balance in my life. I’m starting to feel, again, that a structured corporate environment might do me some good. Although I suspect I’d take issue with the hours, as I always do. It’s not the office I mind going to, I’ll go into an office for a client every now and then, it’s the hour I’m supposed to show up and leave the office at that I’ve always taken issue with. So I should be looking for work, or new clients, especially with all this time on my hands, but instead…I’m thinking about that Victoria’s Secret coupon burning a hole in my wallet, or that scarf I really like at Taylrz Joynt, or that sweater dress at Indexx…
Things with hubbie have been going well. Except for my freak out this weekend over him volunteering to work a production. I thought he was just making the prop, but it turned into an entire weekend thing. We didn’t get to put up our christmas tree, and I turned into a raging bitch housewife.
We did have fun at Snowball Saturday night, but Friday and Sunday I had to fend for myself, so of course I went out by myself Friday night. I could’ve called people, but another thing that’s been going on the last few weeks: I’m wanting to be alone, around people, but alone.
It was the typical pretty-people-expensive-drinks-hotel-lounge scene. I started chattering a bit here and there, and was just settling in to some good people watching, and considering dancing, when this guy walked by and handed me a hotel room card. No introduction, no small talk, just the card. At first I started assessing whether I considered this a good pick up or a bad pick up. It was brazen (good), but it also felt like he was looking for a prostitue (bad). The next assessment, do I go? The adventurous-writer-always-looking-for-inspiration in me decided to check it out…
This is not the part of the story where I end up in a “showering Bukkake gangbang”, as Dr. Sex puts it, doing illicit drugs all night. This is the part of the story where I end up at a hotel room party with a bunch of dudes plucking away at unplugged electric guitars and a select few girls that probably also got handed a hotel room card, discussing how humans are subservient to organization, therefore it’s hard to escape politics, religion, or the corporate machine. I probably also disappointed the guy that invited me because I was not: a) single, b) a prostitue, or c) into bad teeth. Let that be a lesson gentlemen, a little rudimentary status check before giving out your hotel room card will probably result in a better match. Although maybe the guy really did just want to talk about how organizations will eventually destroy the world.
But here’s the good part of the story. When I got home and crawled into bed next to hubbie, I needed to fuck him. Not because I’d done anything bad (though I did think of a great future SLH storyline), but because he looked better than anything I’d seen all night; lying there in his white tee, black boxers, hair all messed up, scruff growing in. I felt like I did five years ago when we first met, like I’d scored.