A whole long long weekend off to most people would be sheer and utter bliss. Four whole days to fill with fun, frolics and good times (do people even frolic anymore, I have no idea). Four days to catch up on all the crap we store up and procrastinate into obscurity.
I approach such a weekend like it is a Nuclear Physics kit. It's strange and awkward and I don't really want to touch it. I could make something wonderful out of it or it could all end up a big horrible mess. Such a chunk of free time surely makes the devil come scuttling to fill your hands with mischief. Truth is I am scared to face such a long weekend alone. My best friend is away, I have no significant other in my life right now, the kids are busy and it's all a bit shit to be brutally honest.
Last night I spent a little time on an Internet dating site I use from time to time (see...devils work indeed!) and yes, I got chatting to a bloke who lives down the road from me. He's asked me out for a pub lunch at 2pm today and I'm now wondering if I should go or not. Oh how I wished I had made a schedule for today to keep me from boredom and straying into dates.
8:00am: get up
8:09am: eat toast and feed cat
8:15am: slop around house in slippers and a poncho
8:30am: put together new computer desk I bought from Argos
12:00pm: wonder why said desk looks like a wonky set of shelves and is leaning on the wall for support!!!
Christ! now I have to do my roots, de-fuzz and find something to wear. I have practically zero money and you cant always assume that the bloke will pay for lunch. Oh lord! what if I have to pay? and what if I have to sit there at the table whilst the payment machine spits out my card and declares 'You've got no money you total loser, isn't it time you sorted your life out!!!' Maybe I could just crawl under the table and hide there until he leaves. He sounded nice on the phone but what if he doesn't turn up??? Oh shit! What if he likes me shit shit shit!!!
Men have such high expectations. They expect you to be perfect and I am not perfect. I am 44, I look my age, I have stretch marks and wrinkles and sometimes my eyebrows get a little overly thick and curly. I have a bad hip, greying hair and a dodgy cervix. I hate the tops of my arms and the cellulite on my thighs. I don't want to join the gym and bounce around like some manic old biddy, trying to clutch desperately at my youth by punishing my wobbly bits. It's just not me. I'm not cut out for the slog of self improvement (although I do know how to check my tyre pressure and use an electric drill) It's all so complicated and now I have an entire weekend to think about how scared I am to date, or how lonely I am and how much enthusiasm I lack for making things better...but it's just lunch and maybe he will be nice and maybe it will kill an hour or two and maybe it will be OK. Now where did I put my poncho!!!
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