Sunday, August 21, 2011

Double Barelled Attacks Against My Intention of Being Left the Fuck Alone by Both Friends and Family Alike

There are people outside. Warm greetings and the occasional polite laugh at something that really isn't all that funny. The buzz of old friends feeling each other out; exchanging niceties until the wine flows or it's quiet enough for pretenses and inhibitions to drop.
People popping in for a quick hellow.
Text messages about getting a drink.
Why don't you stop in anymore?
There were times when I could not stand the idea of staying home. It used to make me nauseous to think that there might be something going on without me.
I was convinced I'd miss something.
Neither rain, nor snow, nor sickness would stop me.
And if I did for some reason miss something I would demand updates.
Immediate and detailed.
Now, not so much.
I know, I know, people want to think it's some kind of bow to age.
It's not.
I can stay up late.
I do stay up late.
It's not that.
It's the arrogant notion that I've kind had all that fun already.
I know the odds are more likely than not that the night will go one way or the other but in all likelihood it'll end, bleary eyed, sipping a bottomless cup of coffee and hoping to be awake enough to keep the car on the road.
I still hope for the weird nights, but I know they don't come along so much anymore.
On top of that I'm quite content reading a book with the air conditioning rattle being the only company.
But there are people outside.
And I can't turn into the curmudgeon who sits in the room and ignores the guests because I have a preference for isolation.
I have to slap on a smile.
Watch my "shits" and "fucks"
Be pleasant.
It's not something I'm particularly good at.

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