First of all, I am on the mend. I’d say I’m at about 80% today, and I’d probably be higher if I had slept better last night. It was at no fault of the snoogle. I eschewed the snoogle for the first few hours of bedtime, because I just really wanted to snuggle with Chief. I get even needier when I feel yucky, and he was also in a snuggly mood. Unfortunately, I’m not the kind of person who can sleep while in snuggle mode, no matter how much I want to be. I was also still on the congested side last night, so that didn’t help the sleeping either.
But anyway, better today. Much, much better. Which is a relief, because Captain recently had a six day cold and I didn’t want anything to do with that mess (sorry Captain).
Onto the real subject of this post.
Last Saturday at Randy’s funeral (which I know I haven’t talked about, but that’s because I cannot talk about it. I can’t even write much about it without tearing up. Hardest funeral I have ever been to. I was so embarrassed to actually be sobbing during one of the songs, and I think I just offended Supreme boss when she asked me about it after I mentioned this story and I said that I didn’t want to talk about the funeral, in a sort of rushed way, because I didn’t want to start crying. I am tactless and need to explain to her later) I ran into my old Spanish teacher from high school. He went to my church very briefly. It was nice to see him and he told me to find him on facebook, so I did and I sent a friend request. That was last week sometime.
Then last night he sent me a message on facebook, asking me if I ever played or sang at the open mic night at one of our local clubs. I’d been asked about this before by someone else, but it’s not really my scene. I’m not big on the limelight, and I’m also a homebody. Once work is done I want to be in my bed, snuggling a Chief or a cat. So I told him “thanks but no thanks”, I’m too busy, etc. I sort of figured he KNEW I was pregnant. Not necessarily from the funeral because I was wearing a trapeze dress that concealed the bump well (specifically with the purpose of keeping people from touching my stomach), but from my facebook. Also, I figured he knew I was MARRIED. You know, from facebook, and because I wear a ring.
So then he just kept talking, making idle chit chat, and I didn’t want to be rude, but I thought it was kind of weird. He was going on and on about how since his divorce he enjoys staying out late and going to clubs, and doing the things he feels like he missed out on in his twenties. Whatever dude, that’s cool. No judgement.
THEN HE ASKED ME TO GO TO FLORIDA WITH HIM TO PLAY AND SING AT A GIG IN JULY.
It could have been totally innocent, I realize that….but it just didn’t feel that way I guess? I mean, it’s not like I’m a 16 year old student anymore-there’s nothing illegal about it. I don’t know, it’s kind of like you have a sixth sense when you’re a girl about when someone could be…trying something. Testing the waters. And granted, I haven’t been hit on in a LONG TIME. My radar could be busted.
So I just said, “Well, good luck in finding someone, but I’m having a baby in June so I don’t think I’ll be doing any traveling in July!”
You know, trying to keep it friendly.
And then the conversation stopped for a few minutes, and I could see him in my minds eye going over to my facebook and looking over my profile.
Then all of a sudden he comes back with:
“Wow. When did you get married?”
So I told him, and he said something about not having seen him at the funeral. I told him Chief was there, but that he’s pretty quiet so he probably stood back while I talked to folks.
And here is where the conversation REALLY should have ended, except it didn’t. He just kept making the idlest of chit chat until finally, FINALLY, he told me about a movie he had just watched and that I should really check it out, saying that it was “transformative” or something, and said he was headed to bed.
Good-please. Go to sleep.
I don’t know-that’s weird, right? I mean, it’s not like he was a super young, fresh out of college teacher when I was in high school. It’s not like I was 17 and he was 22 or anything. He’s 54 years old. I’m really not trying to flatter myself. I mean, I’m EFFING PREGNANT for god’s sake. Of all time for men to “hit on” (seriously I just think I threw up in my mouth a little, which is unfortunate because I just ate a cupcake and nachos for lunch) me, this is NOT THE TIME. And maybe I misinterpreted, but asking a youngish woman who you assumed was single after you’ve gotten divorced to travel with you sends the wrong message.
Trying to make light of it I turned to Chief and said “Well, if you ever leave me at least I know I’ve got prospects.”
Somehow he didn’t find it as funny as I did.