If I Could Turn Back Time

I got myself into a little bit of a situation here. The thing is that this guy I went out with, let’s call him Nick, offered to help me get my stuff that’s in storage down in North Carolina. I don’t have anyone else who can really help me. Originally one of my girl friends was going with me, but she can’t do it now, and I really don’t like asking anyone for help. They’d have to take a few days off work to drive nine hours one way, help me move boxes that fit into a moving van, follow me nine hours back in my car while I drive a Uhaul van, then help me move those boxes into my new basement. Nick is offering to do that.

Meanwhile Steven asked me out on a “date” to his house for dinner. My sponsor reminded me that we don’t really know if this is a date, and I should just ask him. Are we just friends hanging out? Is this a date? At the time I didn’t think to ask if it’s just a booty call because I don’t think of him as a booty call kind of guy but who really knows. According to my roommate, it’s spring time and everyone in the northern hemisphere is horny right now. If it is a booty call, he can forget it. You don’t get sex with me without some kind of commitment or desire (followed by action) to work things out, buddy boy. The girl who allowed that to happen doesn’t exist anymore.

So I asked him. Is this a date or just a hang?

His answer: Yes, this is a date and a hang. This is a date in which we talk about things and hang out.

In that case…

In my imagination, Will Ferrell (who plays my boyfriend) sings this karaoke style in the movie that is my life, although it’s from Tina Fey’s perspective (and Tina Fey plays me, in case you didn’t read my last post). Really I guess it’s from both of their perspectives. Maybe they sing a duo together. This is the turning point when they apologize to each other and admit they want to get back together.

I can’t ask Steven to help me move my stuff. We’re not officially back together, and we don’t know if that will happen just because we’re having dinner together. Besides, he wouldn’t be able to do it now because he’s in the process of moving himself.

My sponsor reminded me that I’m single and I don’t owe anyone anything. Nick and I had a conversation about what this is, and I made it clear I’m dating around, I’m not over Steven yet, I don’t want to sleep around, and we’ll be in separate bedrooms when he comes with me to North Carolina. He said he wants to be friends first, he understands, he doesn’t expect to be in the same bedroom. He sincerely just wants to help out.

What I haven’t mentioned is my concern over how this will look to my stepfather. Hi! Here I am with some random dude who’s helping me move my stuff, even though last time you saw me I was here with Steven, professing my undying love and talking about how we’d be together forever… Well this guy is just a friend, and we’re not sleeping together. A memory of visiting my stepdad and Mom after college, before my trip to London, popped into my head. They were living in Kansas City, and I had three weeks before my move to London to live there on a six-month work visa, and I took a job as a waitress to earn some extra money before going. At the job I met a guy who I went out with, and got drunk with, and didn’t get home until maybe after midnight. We’d gone to some casino where they offer free drinks, and I don’t remember much after that. I remembered my mom being asleep when I got home, but the thing about Mom was she always waited up for me, even when I was 22 years old (which back then was old). But later my stepdad said something about how I dated a lot of guys… I forget how he worded it, but my translation was this: You slut.

This all happened before Steven asked me out. The decision happened before I went on a date with Nick. Nick offered; I didn’t ask. I’m not prostituting myself for Nick to get my stuff for me. I would feel much more empowered had I stuck to my original plan of going with my friend Paulina. Paulina and I moved my stuff into where I live now, with minimal help from any dudes, and called ourselves “badass bitches.” In mental preparation, I sent her this video:

We imagined ourselves driving off into the sunset a bit like Thelma and Louise. Or like Eve and Gwen. I was going to wear a do-rag and she would wear a fedora in the movie of my life that exists in my mind. But now that’s not happening. And I feel bad about it. But I don’t know what else to do. So that’s what I’m doing.

I want to write more about the “slut” reference, because that’s been on my mind lately, since watching “13 Reasons Why,” but I need to get ready for work. Let me just say this: it’s a must-see for parents of teenagers, especially those who have forgotten or don’t know what it’s like to feel isolated in high school. I relate so much to Hannah Baker, and to Jessica. I’ll leave it at that for now.

Peace and love,
TCH

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