Friday, December 07, 2007

Is That a Bottle of Bud in Your Pocket?

So, I've long maintained that I've had a touch of the psychic. Chalk another one up for the Kalesmeister.

Yesterday, I had *that* distinct feeling. The antsy, edgy, frenetic feeling I get when something is about to go down in my life of a personal nature. I can trace this feeling all the way back to RowerMan - and that's a LONG time ago.

But for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what was bringing this feeling on. There was no reason to expect that anything monumental would be going down.

Then, at 4 o'clock a blast from the past showed up on IM.

This guy is supposed to be dead. Seriously. I kid you not. Five years ago - when we saw each other last - he informed me that he had months, if not weeks, to live.

So I was a bit shocked when he invited me out for drinks.

I went. And after an hour and change of Losers Club Tries to Give Old Flame Directions to the TGI Fridays in Woburn .... we met up.

All in all, it was a great time. I stayed out way past my bedtime, but the evening was five years in the making. And although I look worse for the wear this a.m., I still probably look a lot better than he does. A life of scuba diving and Bud Light isn't a recipe for well-being. On the other hand, practicing yoga every day and cutting way back on the Jack Daniels has been pretty good to me.

That all said - he's still wickedly funny, insanely intelligent, disarmingly sweet and not all that bad on the eyes. It's nice to know that he's clearly still thinking about me after all this time.

It was a huge confidence builder. Just what I needed as I prepare to make my entrance onto the North Shore social scene come the new year.

And it didn't suck that he still makes me laugh and still turns me on. Who knows, he might even call me again. If he calls, that would be nice. He's got two boats now, so at the very least, I could get some playtime on the water. If he doesn't call, well, he picked up the tab so it wasn't a complete loss.

It sounds so cynical when I write it all down. But, knowing that when he walked out of my life last I became a bourbon-soaked lump of worthless-feeling despondency, it feels pretty good to know he can walk in or out and all I'm worried about is the few hours of laughs and good conversation I might get out of it.

Look at me, bein all strong!

And, now, for a nap...