The best compliment ever tonight…. A bartender asked me if I was a bartender. Ahh… if only. I told her no, I am not a bartender, I just really like to drink. I found out she is only 23 years old. Left home when she was 13. I don’t know if I was interested in her story because she was cute, because I was jealous, or because I just wanted to know. Envy? How can a 36 year old envy a 23 year old? Hmm…. I’m not quite sure. I would like to think that none of the above applies, and chalk it up to pure admiration for a bright, independent, smart and all around a bad ass chick. More power to her. Yes, pure admiration. Glowing praise.
And then the DJ played Joy Division… I have this thing about showing my age. I love the fact that I was at a bar in Oakland, sitting by myself, drinking this great drink made by a great bartender, and listening to Joy Division. Does it really ever get any better than that? Perfect evening. Perfect nothingness.
Home to my klonopin and the rest of my eggplant parmigiana which I didn't even bother to heat up - - it was that good! Just like being in love. Well, almost. Minus the penetration. Kidding. Sort of.
And so I went to sleep, a happy, happy girl - nay, a woman in my mind, after 4 Jeremiah Weed sweet teas and my usual klonopin. For I have truly graduated from the “looking for” stage to the “find me” stage. A great place to be. Now just find me. Just find me goddammit.
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