Drunk Dialing is Meaningful?

I opened a package today at work and it totally smelled like cat pee.
I wonder if I'm a target for almost-effective terrorism.
In my white middle-class world, cat-pee soaked mail is plenty scary, it is.
I wish I could joke freely and not be later bombarded with shaking heads and tongue clicks of disappointment.
I miss the nineties when everything was funny and I was in my twenties.

I was totally fatter and somehow hotter - go figure.
Well, I guess hot is a state of mind, really. And not a state of any mind, either.
It's a state of 25 year old chick-mind, mind that can spend it's free time smoking, drinking, getting very tan, and smothering every meat served at every meal with thick, fake cheese sauce.
Man, those were the days.

Now, I hope my fat legs don't look too fat in a skirt that's probably 3 sizes too big and I'm so focused on my fat legs that I fail to notice the unfortunate but pretty constant crack flash happening because of the size of the skirt and the fact that I am almost always engaged in the perfection of what I hope seems like sleight of hand whereby I magically pull my undies UP and my skirt DOWN so there's no crack and the skirt covers the fattest fat of fat leg syndrome.

Then I come home and eat some carrot cake but the phone rings and it's my Consort who's in Las Vegas and surrounded by people who are easily going to score 'Hot' in a game of 'Hot or Not.' He showed my MySpace page to his friend who's visiting and who drunkenly was put on the line to tell me that he would like to have intimate relations with me.
If it was still the 1990s, I would have been flattered but the upside of being older and inexplicably fatter, despite not really being fat at all compared to when I was actually fat, which was ironically during the early nineties.... the upside is that I could put the phone on speaker and indulge the rambling but also be mostly reading my book (Fight Club) and eating sweet, sweet carrot cake.

I do have some vague concerns that if there's drunk-dialing from a Spring Break Vegas hotel room to my as-yet mostly unfurnished Tucson apartamento then there may be a hint of an argument that my Consort is acting outside of the arrangement which is to say that perhaps there are feelings he's having that are in conflict with The Plan to not be particularly serious in this tryst.

I was laughing some details to Oxide and she was surprised that I was so flip about the guy.

I've not deviated from my steady course of being totally open to being in a serious, committed, long-term deep and fulfilling yuppie love affair wherein I share my doglet, my kitchen, and my Honda.

But that's not what's happening in my life right now.

I haven't met that guy.

I know who I want to meet and how I want it to feel when I meet that guy.

While there are no delusions about Project Consort, there is a very strong argument for companionship and folly.

For far too many years, I related to men by not relating at all. I avoided their attention, demeaned every single one I lowered myself to accompany on a date, stood back and jealously directed anger at them for just about every inconsequential reason you can think of, and then some.

"He's an asshole" was my standard response to any questions about guys.

I feel a little differently now.
I feel like guys aren't assholes, they're just GUYS.
I don't get why they do the things they do or how they seem to be so effortless about everything that makes my have a twitch in my left eye, like saying what I'm really thinking or calling someone if I feel like calling.

A lot of things have contributed to my softening back up and coming back to being relaxed and fun. My job has given my direction and a more clear vision of an actual future. The Reprise of Jesus (Chapter 832) has given me a comfort level and a sense of history. This cannot be underestimated, I think. To get a message on a Saturday morning that's the result of the phone being held up to an AM Radio playing "Good Morning Star Shine" is to make me feel incredibly whole and actually loved, I mean REALLY loved... loved for years.

Rollerderby can't be left off and neither can moving which seems to have been some kind of cosmic Master Key.
I moved and things so easily slid into place as much the way I wanted them to as things can ever be easy.
Which is to say that things DON'T slide into place - that's just not the way life works.
But it is to say that moving opened doors in my psyche.
I feel differently and by feeling differently, I act differently and by acting differently, I am more able to identify what it is I want and how to get there.

Project Consort is fun times, I know that. It's slightly annoying, it's diversionary, and it's perfect for me at this time.

I'm not poised right now to be effectuating the results I want from my life; I'm active in everything right now.

There's a momentum and an ability to see that craving is only part of the motivation to put myself in a position to feel a sense of success.
I can crave things all day long - money, a great boyfriend, cute comfortable seating and shelving for my completely empty living room - but without rooting around taking action on my cravings to actually get what I want, I got nothin'.

Probably a good 80% of the time things don't work out for me. I'm not a naturally lucky person.
In spite of that, I've learned to take advantage of the times in life during which I don't feel like crawling under the covers and crying myself to sleep with the big tears of self-pity.
This is one of those times.
I'm totally prepared to try a number of different ways to get what I want.

As that relates to Big Love, I'm totally comfortable with Project Consort being exactly what it is - drunk dialing from Las Vegas and making out in my empty living room long after the evening becomes actual night.
Project Consort accesses something important in me and it does it in a very safe, controlled way that affords me the time I need to refine my vision of Big Love.
It keeps me feeling sexy without the slutty harpy feeling of being at the bars, fishing for kisses with dudes who are out because they just got dumped.
It does not lead me to believe that I have stumbled into the love of my life, a partnership for the ages but it does feed something important.

From Project Consort, and of course with the other perspective changes I've had recently, my patience with and delight in men has been restored.
I love this - I could never have fallen in love without it and I almost feel like I might meet that great guy and fall in real love sometime sooner than I thought.

I might not and that's just a fact but since it's been a long time since I believed that I will fall in messy, wonderful, real love sometime again, I'm more than happy to carry my torch for the faith I have in the future possibility of love and carry it high.

arizonasarah at 9:12 a.m.

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