I'd been in a bit of a funk. Despite drinks and flirtations in the middle of the week, I still felt melancholy. Even visiting the fishies* and dinner and wine at a friend's house couldn't break through it.
The rose-colored glasses had found their way back. The trigger was likely the plans we had made for the weekend. The plans I was no longer welcome to join in. And my friends all seemed to be busy. Too busy to help distract me.
I think I had unknowingly become "that girl." The one who falls of the face of the earth when she dates someone. Only I hadn't really done it only because of the boy, it had been mostly work. But I suppose to some degree the boy's insistence I spend my free time with him.
The shower on Saturday made me feel incredibly alone. I was the only solo one there. Everyone else was coupled. And their stories of babies and weddings and honeymoons and one-year dating anniversary trips kept chipping away at my brave facade.
By the time my friend's husband had stopped by to help carry away the loot, I was a mess. But still hiding it convincingly. Well, hiding it until her husband looked at me with his sincere look. Telling me how fabulous I was. How I was too good for him. Everything everyone else had said, but his pity made me cry.
After saying my goodbyes I bailed on my mile-long list of errands and went home to
wallow nap. All I really wanted to do was go see my friend's band play, but not a single friend wanted to go with me. Normally heading to a show solo would be no big deal, but I just couldn't bring myself to consider it.
I had almost given up when Creative called and said she and another friend would go, but I owed them. I knew it was my melancholy tone on my return message to her that did it. And I knew owing her is perhaps not the best idea, but I didn't care. I needed to see a little live music. I needed to see some friends singing and playing their hearts out.
And that's just what we did.
Before the show, over dinner, Creative's friend got the lowdown on the situation. When it was just the two of us at the table she leaned in and told me that she never quite got why we were together. That I could do so much better. My friends had all said just that, but not until she said it, someone who is just an acquaintance, someone who really had no reason to just try to make me feel better, did it begin to sink in.
Once we got to the show it was quite obvious that Creative and friend weren't that excited about the music, but I danced and sang along with the band, anyway. Excited enough for all of us. With each chorus, each beautiful melody, my melancholy slipped a little further away.
On the car ride home I found that comfortable feeling where I believe things are good. Life is good. Everything was going to be alright, one way or another.
When I wished my dad a Happy Father's Day on the phone this morning, he even noticed the change, and he's not one to notice such things.
Then, when I talked to my mom to arrange the afternoon's festivities*, she asked about my mood improvement. I told her it was seeing my friend's band play. She laughed. She's perhaps the only one I know that understands the effect music, live music in particular, has on me.
By the time my family arrived for the Father's Day festivities I was downright happy. And that's the way I intend to stay. For as long as possible.
* Will get to the other stories soon.