Soxdolager

As some of you dear readers may have noticed from some of my previous writings here, I’m throwing a lot of stuff down, some of it hardly edited. That’s because I want to do it that way. I’m collecting material and storing it here and, who knows, someday it may get edited and tightened up into something funny and readable. But, for now bear with me as I throw it all down…

Just minutes after Okie struck out the last Yankee Friday night, I knew I had found my perfect woman. She’s got a big ol’ addictive personality; she’s depressed, quick to anger and quick to over-apologize; she’s restless, nervously pacing the bar at times. But K2 is sweet, when she’s not angry. And nice, when her feelings aren’t hurt. And really unpretentious. And, the topper, she came out on a Friday night wearing a Varitek shirt. How cool is that? Especially since it was the magical Varitek shirt that created the Red Sox rally in the eighth! woot!

What had started out as an evening of no prospects–my plan was to watch a little of the game down at the bar and then just go home and catch up on some sleep–slowly evolved into a perfect storm of debauchery. And let me tell you, debauchery without the sex is still debauchery. First D. showed up and he got things rolling by getting me to do a Tur’bo. Alas I’m no longer a Tur’bo virgin. What is this “Tur’bo” you may ask? Well, it’s basically a big old pint filled with ice and flavored vodka and a little Sprite and fruit juice with two straws. Two people then drink it down at the same time without stopping until they’re done. Oh, and it was good. It was also an interesting moment in that there I was forehead to forehead with D., who’s Mr. Macho, drinking a fruity drink together. I’m not going to go too deep in the analysis of that moment. I’ll let you do it yourself.

As the Red Sox began to lose, we wandered over to the golf machine, where my ass was kicked exactly the same way it was on the real golf course. But, just as it seemed like it would be another average night, things really took off as R. walked through the door (Dr. B showed up too, but, as you know, he’s a buzz kill). R., if you didn’t pick it up from my previous writing, is one of the most charismatic people I’ve ever met. He’s incredibly friendly, charming, personable. He likes everyone too. Not a mean bone in his body. Oh–except that Dr. B. drives him crazy. As R. put it “I like everybody, but that guy just pisses me off. Since I’ve been married I’ve had more women than he’ll ever have–and I’m faithful to my wife!” Hehe. But he also has an interesting effect on Dr. B. When R. is around, Dr. B. totally drops his schtick–or at least he moves it to another part of the bar. Either way it gives us all a break.

Okay, so, after the golf we moved back to the bar side to watch the rest of the game. We started talking to a couple of women who were also watching, spewing invectives at A-Rod: “A-hole,” “A-Bitch” or, after the second home run, “A-Roids.” These girls were charming. Oh and later on–not sure when this happened–but at some point one of the women came up to me and R. and did a dance a la Pulp Fiction for us. Oh, and she also started to unbutton my shirt. What!?! Yeah, and the funny thing is, she didn’t talk to R. or I either before or after that one little dance. After she turned back to the game, R. looked at me and, nodding his head, big smile on his face, said “This is going to be a good night.”

Around the seventh inning K2 and her magical shirt showed up and within a few minutes was screaming at D. I’m still not sure what he said to her, but from what I’ve gathered he thought he was paying her a compliment and, with her damaged self-esteem, she took it as an insult. Later, when she and I were smoking outside, she apologized like twenty times for it. But I said the usual things about D.–you know, he’s a jerk, he doesn’t know how to treat women–to help her feel less guilty about it all. I doubt that helped though.

But, anyway, the Red Sox rally was the best thing ever. K2 and the crazy women clearly spooked Rivera. There can be no other explanation for the Yankees’ collapse. Great moment: right after–and I mean right after–the Red Sox went ahead a guy walked into the bar with a Yankees hat on. And oh yeah, K2 and the crazy girls turned their rally-fueled adrenalin on him. Luckily he took it all with a big smile–nothing like being greeted with the “Yankees Suck” chant and fingers pointing at you. Hehe

I’m a little fuzzy on what happened when after the game ended. D. and Dr. B went to get something to eat. K2 chided them for going to a restaurant ten minutes before it closed because it would force people to work late (she’s a waitress and knows all about that shit). Oh, and I asked her out. Fueled by the Red Sox win, the Tur’bos and the mood of everyone around us, I just blurted it out. Oh, and she of course shot me down–“Um, I don’t really know you.” And right after I had said it, I knew that it wasn’t going to happen. It was just an impulse. The great thing is, though, I didn’t feel bad about it afterwards, didn’t feel rejected, didn’t feel awkward. The night continued on, we still talked and smoked cigarettes. Just another of the crazy moments.

So, yesterday after D. and I golfed we found ourselves back down there. R. showed up and we got to talking about what a great night it was. The incredible energy in the bar. Everything that made it a great night. We talked about our bar tabs and all of the drinks on them that we didn’t remember buying for people. Apparently someone had been deciding that we were buying them drinks, hehe. R. wondered where JetBlue had been. He had called her Friday night–oh, and then he checked his phone and saw how late it was when he called her: “Ooops. I hope I didn’t wake her up.” Then I asked him what time he left: “hmmm, my wife says I got home at two. I think K2 and I closed the place.” Hehe, “I think I closed the place.” That’s a great tagline.

Well, I think that’s it for now. I’m liking all the Raymond Carver characters I’ve been meeting. Definitely giving me more insight into people, real people’s lives. People with dark clouds hanging over their lives, like D. People struggling to keep their heads above the waves like K2. JetBlue and her disappointments and failures and fears. Dr. B and his “program” that’s a facade for I don’t know what kind of issues he has with women. R., struggling with the fact that six of his friends have died in recent years. And then there’s me. Struggling with depression. Struggling still with the death of a friend. Enjoying being single, but still missing the home life at times. Still sad about things in my life that I screwed up. Still trying to figure out how to afford the rest of my life. And yet I’m feeling that I’m on the rise. I’m writing more. I’m being healthier (despite how it sounds here). I’m straightening out my brain, dealing better with the NVLD. Spending more time with my father and with my boys. Just keepin on keepin on.

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