The First Day of the Rest of My Life

Friday, August 10, 2007


Enjoying a breakfast of Krispy Kreme and water while getting my oil changed. I tell you, it's the breakfast of champions...

I have a choice of blogging here, or watching "Maury" with a roomfull of strangers. I'm guessing I made the right choice.

Okay, so people want to know what happened last weekend. Here goes. Last Friday, on the spur of the moment, I called up my friend Maria on my way home from work. I'd been meaning to head to Austin to hang out with some friends of mine, as well as to see if I really had any sort of shot with her. She said she wasn't doing anything, and would love to hang out with me that night. After some quick ironing and packing, I headed up I-35. I ended up getting to her place at around 10. I changed into my party clothes, and we headed downtown.

The night started out well enough. I convinced her to salsa dance for a song or two at a Latin club we went to. (Note to self: find a place for lessons here in town.) We headed to semi-hipster bar known for its mojitos. Continuing my streak from a couple of weeks before, I started talking with a woman. (Okay, so she started it by asking what it was I was drinking, but I'll take it anyway I can get it.) She and a friend were in town from Corpus Christi; she said they went to SA for a concert, but decided to keep on driving. One wonders if, by that logic, they ended up in Dallas...

Maria and I stayed at the bar for a little while before making our way to another hipster bar (this is Austin, after all). While waiting in line to get in, my two new friends from Corpus passed by, and I invited them to join us. A few minutes later, we headed in. And that's when things started to go downhill.

We started dancing after getting our first round from the bar, and I started off with my new friend. That is, until she saw some taller dudes nearby and started freak dancing with them. I tried to console myself with Maria, but saw she was occupied by another tall dude at the back of the bar. I believe the kids would say that he was trying to "holla."Atfer what seemed like an eternity in bar time (one round), she came back towards where I was. Maria's new friend left, and I was watching my new friend dry hump some dude. That's when Maria came up with an idea.

"Why don't I dance with you to make her jealous?" she asked.

"Great, a charity grind," I thought to myself, as she began to scrub the ground. She seemed to think it worked, as my new friend gave me a peck on the cheek as I left. I, on the other hand, was reminded of that song I hear on the radio a lot, the one about the pally being knocked down. (EDIT: Turns out that should be spelled "Palais"; the song in question is The Kinks' "Come Dancing.")

On the way home, I quizzed Maria a bit about her ex. Turns out they're still good friends. Good enough to share the same bed sometimes. (Thankfully, not that night.) After the Q&A, it became clear to me that my odds with her are worse than those of Powerball.

The next morning, I left her place and paid a visit to an old friend of mine. She's about four or five months pregnant, and I wanted to see how she was. I dropped by her house to share in the glow of her growing belly, as well as check out the already stocked nursery. She's an only child, so her folks were ready to supply blankets, clothes, cribs, and everything else a parent would want their kid seen with.

As I left her house, I started to ponder, which, for those that know me, is never a good thing. At that point, I had five friends, family members or co-workers who were expecting. (It dropped to four yesterday, as my cousin gave birth to a baby girl.) Not that any paternal instincts are starting to make themselves known, far from it. But sometimes I get the feeling that I'm still playing catch-up in this game of life. Okay, so I have a paying job and a mortgage, so I contribute somewhat to society. But as I get to the age where getting married or having kids is no longer a shock but a welcome development, I still feel as if adulthood is still at arm's length or further from me.

So that, in a big nutshell, was my weekend. This afternoon, I'm getting on a jet plane, heading for Las Vegas to see another of my pregnant friends get married. It should be fun for me, if for nothing else than the fact that I get to walk the bride down the aisle. Part of me will be trying to deal with that, the other part will try to remember whether to hit a 13. Wish me luck...

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