Home again, home again, jiggity jig. I missed Hawaii. I still have plenty of friends there and always a bed for me. I started off with a really bad breakfast at Moose’s with my friend Shawn.
Shawn is my best friend in the whole wide world. We met because we got divorced together. We shared probably the most painful most devastating event in our entire lives. Nothing brings friends together than utter depression and sorrow, right? Well, that was 2001 and we have been friends ever since. We’ve seen breakups (and hookups), best of times, the worst of times, and shared copious amounts of alcohol. Shawn has this same affect on people when he’s out and about that I do. People gravitate to him and I think it rubbed off on me. He knows me very well and we spend hours upon hours laughing hysterically about absolutely nothing (or the most absolutely disgusting). Even though we live in Hawaii and Dallas, we still call each other every day and say- “You will not fucking believe what happened.”
We later went to Shorebird to find a sucker bartender to give us beer at 10 o’clock in the morning. Work called with some weird non-emergency. I’m sitting there at a beachside bar with a beer in hand and I have to call a bunch of places to fix some work issues. I even called my boss in hopes that he help and he just told me to call him after I handled it. So I’m sitting there in a bar in Hawaii on an absolutely gorgeous day with a beer in my hand and I’m trying to call 3 different places to cancel and reinstate some reservations and make sure that things are taken care of while I am not at work. What a way to start a vacation! I decided I was not going to take anymore calls work after this.
I spent most of my day laying on the beach in Waikiki and wondering why I ever left Hawaii. I reminisced about the days I spent surfing and relaxing on the beach every single weekend. I even went to the beach when it rained. Between you and I, I think I was becoming a raging alcoholic and I was afraid of marrying one of the many boyfriends I was tearing through. Ahhh, I missed it so.
Actually, I left Hawaii because I thought I had fallen in love. But that’s a story for another day.
I went to see my friend Geri and to get my haircut. My hair stylist, Sam, told me it was her birthday and invited me out that night. I dragged my friend Shawn out and we had a blast hanging out with their friends, dancing, and meeting Iranian male models who wore more eyeliner than me. I met a guy named Todd who had a house, a dog, a divorce, and a daughter. He was extremely nice, but made me feel my age a little. He was the kind of guy I probably needed to meet, but would never give the time. He probably had less baggage than me and would probably run away screaming if the likes of me entered his life.
I called my friend Amy the next day and asked her why we didn’t meet men like this in Dallas. She pointed out that I was on vacation and that I didn’t have my guard up. She seemed to think that if I was home, that I probably would not get past a mere hello with a man like that. I wonder if this is true and if it is, then what the heck is wrong with me?