I can't drive 55

Do you know what it feels like to drive 90 miles an hour without a windshield in front of you…no helmet, no shield, no guard.

Tonight, I do.

I did everything wrong tonight. I drank. I drove. Damn it was good parking. I drove 90 miles an hour down central expressway. I can’t even beginning to explain how much I wanted to reach over and feel the metal of the car next to me going that fast or what I could see or what it looked liked… the lights, the signs, the road strips. I can tell you it’s nothing like you see in the movies.

I know I am responsible. I pay my bills on time, make decent money, take good care of my dog. I manage a large budget for my job, I pay the bills, and I plan and complete my work without a single person telling me what I should be doing. I am a reasonable and responsible person. I know I shouldn’t drive my motorcycle without a helmet, but I did it. I don’t even consider my self a risk taker. ‘Cause I’m not. I am afraid of everything…most of all dying. So, me at 90 is a mystery, even to me…

Now, I am now having a conversation with my roommate about why he doesn’t date and it’s been enlightening but not surprising…in fact, he’s almost quoted me in my own responses to my friends as to why he doesn’t. Enlightening because I had no idea how right I was about his lack of interest. He just doesn’t feel the urge to purse anything and acknowledges how much effort it would take and how little he is interested in making that effort. Exactly how I think of him. Dating just takes more effort than he’s willing to pursue. The intimacy of that kind of it all is just too much. No, he’s not gay…as far from it as a boy can be really, maybe narcissistic and for sure he is alone. I don’t feel sorry for him. I do hope he’s not too lonely. 

So it’s now really late and I am going to bed. I have to move a lot of concrete and rocks tomorrow…it’s not even for my house.

This is an incredibly fragmented post. Did I mention I was drinking this evening?

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