Last night’s event with Clint (Sad, Recently Divorced Guy with 5 Kids) was nice, but I really wasn’t.
I should have known better that I couldn’t just show up at the event and mingle like a single. I don’t know why I thought it might be that way, even though I purposely showed up late.
I arrived in my lace pants (hot) and fit and flare shirt and stilettos about an hour after the event started, and Clint met me at the door. He’d already paid in advance for my ticket and bought me a drink immediately. He was very, very sweet to me, yet I just couldn’t get into it.
Side note: there were tons of hot men at this thing!
The event was for the kickoff of the season for the professional soccer team in this city. Clint is a huge fan of soccer. He knows all of the players, the owner of the team, the announcers and many of the fans . He’s also Venezuelan and soccer has been in his blood from birth. He was actually the perfect person to attend this event with because he explained everything, pointed out all of the team members and what their specialties are, talked about the new uniforms and introduced me to people (including one of the players).
I, on the other hand, was quiet yet appreciative. I felt a little awkward and knew that I was being standoffish, but I just didn’t want to give him any ideas.
As I looked around the event, there was a lot to see, and there were times I really did want to just check things out on my own, but it would have been weird and rude and I just decided to suck it up and hang…yet, I had to open up my personal space a bit every time Clint got close and touched me.
Finally, I started yawning (!!!). Yes, it was 9:45, which is truly my bedtime, but I didn’t even stifle the yawns which punctuated the fact that I was ready to go home. Here’s something really telling: I didn’t even come close to finishing my wine!
Clint was nice to walk me home, and he had actually bought me a cute pair of socks at the little gift booth set up at the entrance (they were like the ones the players wear and they were adorable) , but I refused to take them…I just didn’t think it was right to accept a gift from someone I have zero interest in taking to any level. I told him to give them to his daughter.
He walked me to the steps of my apartment and we had a super awkward hug and said goodbye quickly. I feel pretty shitty about the whole thing, but I also feel like it’s time for me to get out there again from the standpoint of being social.
It’s good to get out. I need to be nicer about it.
This morning, during my workout, I thought about the Bulldog and how he’d blocked me from his Instagram. I thought about how maybe he was mad at me and it was a sign for me to ask him about why he blocked me? Maybe he wants to talk to me? Maybe…maybe…
And then I realized that IF that were the case he would make it happen. He would make it known to me that he wants to talk about it. If anything, he has moved further away from this non-relationship.
And then I worked out even harder. Working out it such a good antidepressant. Speaking of getting out of a depression…
O. My. God.
Yesterday I found out that a woman who I used to work with during the time that I got FIRED is going to be in town and I’m going to have a meeting with her in a few weeks. She’s very good friends with the bitch boss who fired me. Andrea and I have seen each other a few times since my divorce from the company and we have always remained in a good place. In fact, she was always open and honest in talking about how crappy it was that I was fired yet how she remained friends with bitch boss.
We emailed back and forth late yesterday. She said that Bitch Boss had come to visit her last weekend and stayed at her house. She said that they talked about me and agreed that they both MISSED ME??!! WTF does that mean?
Regardless, I thought about that last night and a bit this morning and think that I’m finally in a place where I could bury the hatchet if it came to that.
Now. Do I trust Bitch Boss? Not really. I think she is a crazy pants. But do I feel okay with what went down? Not really…it was a shitty situation. But am I over it? Yes. It took me a long time, but I’m over it. Over that horrible feeling. Over it all. It took SEVEN years almost to the day for me to say that.
Time.
I believe that’s what a lot of my heartache just takes. It takes time…and a whole lot of it.
Speaking of which, it’s time to get ready for another meeting. Happy Friday, peeps. Take some time to feel good.
XO,
GS
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