You are annoyed. You are annoyed because your husband's girlfriend asked to change their date night so she could go to a party. Either way. You have bought a new sweater and skirt and decide to go to the local bar, although you know most people there, and it is not really the place to meet someone. But, tonight is super fun. The artists are there. R is there. You have such a crush on him and he has such a crush on you, but he is 20 years younger. He is there with his girlfriend. Right away, he starts in asking you questions about feminism and photography and grammar. He grabs your arm every chance he gets. He touches your shoulder. His leg brushes yours. You are annoyed because his girlfriend is right there and it puts you in the position of being the grown up and making sure he's attentive enough to her and not too attentive to you. But the other 1/2 of you wants to drag him in the bathroom. The artists have been there for awhile. They are all very drunk. You are not drunk. You go outside to share a cigarette with R. His girlfriend and friend come too. You don't smoke, but you know they all do, and you want to to. It is raining, so everyone is huddled under the awning.
There is another girl there. A girl from the neighborhood. She has a hat on. You do not know her. She starts going on and on about how she's seen you around and she is so happy to meet you. You are confused. At first, you think she's hitting on you. R is involved in this conversation too. Then, she begins talking to R about you in the third person as you are standing there. She tells R "I'm so happy to meet her. I have a --- who is autistic. Is she your sister? Are you her brother?" Then you realize (as people often do) she thinks you're mentally handicapped. She has formed this version of you in her mind of Gosh knows? A person so brave who goes to the bar with her brother? it doesn't matter that you have 2 Masters Degrees and taught college. She probably hasn't been to college or taught anything. R looks embarrassed and puzzled. Finally, you say "I'm his mother." You meant to say, "I'm his mentor." Which is true, even though you only see each other every six months. You go inside. You sit down. It's boring. You go back outside. She is gone. You tell R, that woman made me upset. He says, 'I know." You say "Do you know why?" He says "Yes." You say "See!" The previous conversation had been about minority groups being categorized in the arts. R doesn't believe that groups (such as feminists) should have exclusive shows. You try to explain to him why this is complicated, but the bar is too loud. At least, R realizes that disabled people are a minority group. He's already ahead of the game.
You spend the rest of the night talking to P about Yoga & how he loves yoga. You talk about your favorite positions, and it feels funny to say "favorite position" to a 27 year old boy. You want to buy him a yoga pass because he is poor and you are kind of poor too, but not that poor. Sometimes you are impatient. Sometimes you are a bitch. But you get sick of people talking about you in the third person in front of you. You wonder if that happens to other people.
You are going through menopause. You masterbated twice yesterday. You, then, dreamed about sex all night. You have your share of suitors, but no one real yet. You actually have very little sex for someone with a lot of suitors. You have had intercourse twice this year. Once with a 20 year old who you did not love and once with a 55 year old who you kind of loved because he was magical and liked to feed squirrels. You kind of want to fuck your husband, but not really. And it seems so easy to get along better when you don't. You love someone, you actually do love someone, but they lied to you, big time. So you pass through days without speaking to them. One day you will speak to them. One day, you will have a lot of lovers. It's primarily you. you are too picky and too nervous and lately, when you go out, you just compare the guy to the person you love...but that is fading.