I got really really, really obscenely drunk last night.
I wish I could say that the product was sleep, but alas.
I had fitful dreams and woke every 2 hours or so. I felt like crap this morning and moped around all day.
Until I became stir crazy and decided to treat myself to dinner.
I didn't have a lot of money, but I had a gift card left over from a bad experience at Red Lobster that I was saving for Doug and I to use. So, I showered, got dressed, put on a very small amount of makeup and went to The Olive Garden. Alone.
As soon as I stepped through the door I knew it was a mistake.
As I stood in line to put my name in, I looked all around me and saw...
Couples.
Couples at the bar of every age, every stage of happiness, everywhere.
I was just about to walk out when the hostess greeted me.
Her: "How many in your party?"
Me: "Just one."
Her: "Excuse me? I didn't hear you...it's noisy in here...how many did you say?"
Me: (Clearing my throat) "One, please."
Her: (Loudly to another hostess) "We got a single, we should have a small table right?"
I stood there...embarrassed as it seemed like every single person in the waiting area was staring right at me with their pitying eyes.
Her: "We have a table for you...right this way please..."
I followed her obediently....head down.
Her: "Blah, blah, blah the specials...blah blah blah featured wine...blah blah waitress will be right with you."
She then took the second place setting away briskly while every couple surrounding me looked on.
My face was past red and had now become fuchsia.
I sat there staring at the menu and tried to hold back the tears that were collecting in my throat.
I looked around and studied people as I drank my Lambrusco. There was an old couple sitting 3 tables away that were quiet and reserved and rarely talked to one another...but you could see that the silence was comfortable. Every once in awhile I would see him and her look at each other and smile. They didn't need words...they we're happy just to be in each others company.
Then there was the couple directly across from me that weren't even old enough to drink. The giggled and laughed and played footsie under the table. Cute...annoying, but (sigh) cute.
And then the kicker.
And I swear I am not making this up.
Towards the back of the room was a party of 8 people...give or take a few.
and I heard a clink, clink of wine glasses.
This guy who was really good looking...early 30's probably was standing there in his suit at the head of the table....sweating.
This is what he said:
"I guaranteed you on the day we met that you would fall in love with me, and you said no...that you would not. I guaranteed it.
Now, I am asking for a guarantee from you:
Caroline...will you marry me?"
And he dropped to one knee in front of, I am assuming his family seeing the older woman at the other end of the table weeping clued to me that it must have been his mom.
he placed the ring and she said:
"What took you so long?????"
And the merriment and glasses clinking and cheers from the rest of the room went on.
And all I could think was: "What kind of retard proposes in The Olive Garden for chrissakes?"
I giggled to myself and realized that my face was wet. Yeah...big shocker lately...I was crying.
And it wasn't just the grand gestured across the room that was stabbing me in the heart, it was the rest of the couples...so happy for them...so cozy. So coupled.
I just know what it felt like at that precise moment to be the turd in the punchbowl.
I watched the guys make jokes at their girls expense about long trips to the restroom, and how they subtlety brushed their girls hands, or even picked lint off their dresses. I watched as they smiled at each other and especially the girls reactions. I could see the pride on their face. The pride that said: I'm here with someone...I have someone...I am valid.
And the subtle little things that made the guy know without saying: that's my girl.
And there I was...literally longing for that same feeling again. That pride. The knowing way about me. I longed for him to be sitting across from me, holding my hand or making a joke about the 10 dollar glass of wine I ordered, that I would never finish.
It was all just so horrible.
And when I felt like I couldn't hold back the flood pushing against my gullet any longer, I politely asked the waiter if he could box my meal to go and explained that there was a family emergency.
He did as asked, and I DID to the contrary, finish my wine.
I walked out the door into the heavy humidity...watched my hair frizz before my own eyes and sat in my car and cried for a half hour.
My spaghetti bolognaise is in the fridge coagulating.
I never did find my appetite again.
But I did finish that damn glass of wine.
I just miss him so much, and I want to tell him...but what difference would it make?
I talk to him everyday still via text, email, or still phone occasionally.
And every time I hear his voice I want to shout it out: WHY?
Why can't you just get over your issues and love me? Why am I SO unlovable?
WHY?
What is it about me that drives them away like bad cologne?
I'm pretty sure I smell good. Well...NOT this week.
But normally, I do OK.
It was a phenomenally bonehead thing of me to go to dinner by myself tonight.
I know that now.
I am so sick of crying.
Last thought:
"The body is a house of many windows: there we all sit, showing ourselves and crying on the passers-by to come and love us."
-Robert Louis Stevenson
Closed windows-
Jaded
I wish I could say that the product was sleep, but alas.
I had fitful dreams and woke every 2 hours or so. I felt like crap this morning and moped around all day.
Until I became stir crazy and decided to treat myself to dinner.
I didn't have a lot of money, but I had a gift card left over from a bad experience at Red Lobster that I was saving for Doug and I to use. So, I showered, got dressed, put on a very small amount of makeup and went to The Olive Garden. Alone.
As soon as I stepped through the door I knew it was a mistake.
As I stood in line to put my name in, I looked all around me and saw...
Couples.
Couples at the bar of every age, every stage of happiness, everywhere.
I was just about to walk out when the hostess greeted me.
Her: "How many in your party?"
Me: "Just one."
Her: "Excuse me? I didn't hear you...it's noisy in here...how many did you say?"
Me: (Clearing my throat) "One, please."
Her: (Loudly to another hostess) "We got a single, we should have a small table right?"
I stood there...embarrassed as it seemed like every single person in the waiting area was staring right at me with their pitying eyes.
Her: "We have a table for you...right this way please..."
I followed her obediently....head down.
Her: "Blah, blah, blah the specials...blah blah blah featured wine...blah blah waitress will be right with you."
She then took the second place setting away briskly while every couple surrounding me looked on.
My face was past red and had now become fuchsia.
I sat there staring at the menu and tried to hold back the tears that were collecting in my throat.
I looked around and studied people as I drank my Lambrusco. There was an old couple sitting 3 tables away that were quiet and reserved and rarely talked to one another...but you could see that the silence was comfortable. Every once in awhile I would see him and her look at each other and smile. They didn't need words...they we're happy just to be in each others company.
Then there was the couple directly across from me that weren't even old enough to drink. The giggled and laughed and played footsie under the table. Cute...annoying, but (sigh) cute.
And then the kicker.
And I swear I am not making this up.
Towards the back of the room was a party of 8 people...give or take a few.
and I heard a clink, clink of wine glasses.
This guy who was really good looking...early 30's probably was standing there in his suit at the head of the table....sweating.
This is what he said:
"I guaranteed you on the day we met that you would fall in love with me, and you said no...that you would not. I guaranteed it.
Now, I am asking for a guarantee from you:
Caroline...will you marry me?"
And he dropped to one knee in front of, I am assuming his family seeing the older woman at the other end of the table weeping clued to me that it must have been his mom.
he placed the ring and she said:
"What took you so long?????"
And the merriment and glasses clinking and cheers from the rest of the room went on.
And all I could think was: "What kind of retard proposes in The Olive Garden for chrissakes?"
I giggled to myself and realized that my face was wet. Yeah...big shocker lately...I was crying.
And it wasn't just the grand gestured across the room that was stabbing me in the heart, it was the rest of the couples...so happy for them...so cozy. So coupled.
I just know what it felt like at that precise moment to be the turd in the punchbowl.
I watched the guys make jokes at their girls expense about long trips to the restroom, and how they subtlety brushed their girls hands, or even picked lint off their dresses. I watched as they smiled at each other and especially the girls reactions. I could see the pride on their face. The pride that said: I'm here with someone...I have someone...I am valid.
And the subtle little things that made the guy know without saying: that's my girl.
And there I was...literally longing for that same feeling again. That pride. The knowing way about me. I longed for him to be sitting across from me, holding my hand or making a joke about the 10 dollar glass of wine I ordered, that I would never finish.
It was all just so horrible.
And when I felt like I couldn't hold back the flood pushing against my gullet any longer, I politely asked the waiter if he could box my meal to go and explained that there was a family emergency.
He did as asked, and I DID to the contrary, finish my wine.
I walked out the door into the heavy humidity...watched my hair frizz before my own eyes and sat in my car and cried for a half hour.
My spaghetti bolognaise is in the fridge coagulating.
I never did find my appetite again.
But I did finish that damn glass of wine.
I just miss him so much, and I want to tell him...but what difference would it make?
I talk to him everyday still via text, email, or still phone occasionally.
And every time I hear his voice I want to shout it out: WHY?
Why can't you just get over your issues and love me? Why am I SO unlovable?
WHY?
What is it about me that drives them away like bad cologne?
I'm pretty sure I smell good. Well...NOT this week.
But normally, I do OK.
It was a phenomenally bonehead thing of me to go to dinner by myself tonight.
I know that now.
I am so sick of crying.
Last thought:
"The body is a house of many windows: there we all sit, showing ourselves and crying on the passers-by to come and love us."
-Robert Louis Stevenson
Closed windows-
Jaded
PS...For pictures of last nights carnage and drunkenenss...scroll down to the next post. That is all.
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