A multi-faceted dry spell
It was odd the ease with which I found myself the recipient of not one, but two free beers. Not odd for a girl in braids and pink Rolling Stones T, exactly ... but odd for a girl who’s sworn off dating. I mean, it hit me the other day just what I’ve done. At a time in my life when my income’s at low ebb and any near-future upswings in revenue will be diverted toward paying down my debt, the only feasible ways to live it up and enjoy the niceties this town has to offer are a) mooch off friends or b) go on dates. Clearly the former option is neither conducive to staying friends with the peeps in question, nor easy to accomplish once permanent employment is found (short of lying about such a job, of course). But since I’ve also eliminated option b, I’ve pretty much shut myself out of nicer booze and dining - or at least, the sort that’s done in public places.
Then again, if I end up working on my memoir (as I plan to do), there won’t be that much time for boozing it up anyhow. And when I do go out, a mere one beer or cocktail will probably be all my wits can afford (if writing is yet to be done that night). Also, if “biology” someday prevails and my body gets a chance to pop out all those kids I once dreamed of having, this could be considered training for those nine-month spates of liquor-fasting (musters spunky thumbs-up, frayed grin). Sigh.