I had a party. It was called “Ice cream social with a kick”. Booze and homemade ice cream, what could go wrong? A lot. #72 came. Everyone else that attended knows about our “issue”. I have a big fucking mouth (obviously) and I panicked. What if someone said something? I’ve run into this problem before and apparently never learned my lesson. So it’s understandable I was more worried about what my guests would say than if they were having a good time.
I remember what Ex-Husband said once.
“I don’t want to be known as Lynn Halsted’s husband.”
To which I replied, okay, now you’re going to be known as Lynn Halsted’s Ex-husband. And so it came to pass.
I‘m just glad my friends are old enough to have the discretion that I don’t seem to. No one got stupid drunk but me, and no one said anything bad. If they had, it would not just end my relationship, but it would be so hurtful. No matter how much I bandy the idea that I’m going to end it, I would never do anything to hurt him. He’s too nice and doesn’t deserve that.
It’s hard because I’m an open book, but how open should I be? It was easier when #72 and I had a distance in our “relationship”; separate lives. It’s what we both wanted. Then I wanted to be more a part of his life and now it’s all blending together. Beware of what you ask for.
I invited 20 people and 12 showed up, which aren’t bad odds for LA. But the bummer was, I made 8 quarts of ice cream and had about 5 quarts remaining after everyone went home. If I thought I was fat before, this just made it worse. And it makes me wonder, have I let myself go because I’m 45 or because I’m in a relationship? Maybe I should pretend to break up with him so that I can motivate myself to work out should I need to find new cock. I’m basically too self conscious to even consider being with anyone new. Or I can just sit back and have another bowl of ice cream.
Moral of the story, don’t talk with food in your mouth or if there’s a dick in your life. And please pass the chocolate chocolate chip.