Last night I couldn’t get over the fact that I was out – in the dark – past 9 o’clock.
Call me crazy. Call me old. Either way I just couldn’t believe I was out walking around, on the hunt for a bottle of red wine with my man-friend at 9:05 p.m.
The night began per the usual. We made stuffed peppers for dinner, which came out nicely. Well, nice but a little too spicy. Back in Chicago, we used Pablano peppers, but here in San Diego, the only choice at the store was Serrano peppers. They looked the same. Big. Green. We thought nothing of it.
But they were spicy. Too spicy. My tongue hurts just thinking about it. That’s all you need to know.
After dinner, we cleaned up the kitchen, guzzled a couple glasses of water, and then threw on our swimming suits. A couple we met last week was meeting us at the public pool (thank you, Hilton!) for a little hot tub relaxation. We chatted, got to know each a little better, and then parted ways. It’s been kind of hard meeting new people and making friends, especially ‘couple-y’ friends. So when we met these two at a Meet-up recently, we knew we had found some people we could be ourselves with.
It’s been kind of like dating, but less individual pressure.
Just before we left, my man-friend said he desired some wine. That’s like music to my ears, so of course I happily agreed with his plan to seek some out. We were crossing the bridge toward home, soaked with the scent of chlorinated water, when it hit me.
“What time is it?”
“Like, nine or something.”
It was dark. Scoundrels about, no doubt. We shouldn’t be out, I thought to myself. We should be in bed, going to sleep. But I wasn’t tired – I think the hot tub gave me a second wind. Still I couldn’t get the thought off my mind. We kept walking, past our apartment onward to the grocery store to get our bottle of wine. I looked back toward our apartment, then at my man-friend.
“You know, I need to be more like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like more willing to be up and about past nine or ten. I’m freaking out over here. I keep thinking we should be going to sleep already. I mean, I’m 27. I should be able to stay up late, right? But no, my mind says ‘No.’”
“Well, that’s just it. You’re an adult. You get to decide. You don’t need to rush to work or school or anything. You work from home now. It’s ok.”
He was right. I was getting worked up for a whole ‘lotta nothing. But it’s that sneaky feeling of being forever 19, in school, on a schedule where someone – a teacher, a professor – is expecting me in a room bright and early the next morning having eaten breakfast already, ready to go.
It’s a little hard to let that feeling go. It’s all too familiar, but it’s also so liberating to feel like I’m in control of my life. In control for the first time in a way. I’m an adult. I should start acting like it… right?
Maybe. Maybe I will in some ways, slowly. Give me some time.