Monday, August 12, 2013


This weekend I found myself in the unusual position of having no plans. JB was working a trip to Barcelona and all my friends were out of town. Normally I would cherish the opportunity for an entire weekend of "me time". (And no, that's not a masturbation euphemism. Not entirely.) But this being the 2nd weekend of my diet, I felt I needed a change of pace to keep myself from falling back on old habits.

So Friday afternoon I did what I normally do when facing a decision requiring moral guidance. I asked "What would StevieB do?" Fortunately, I don't have to guess at an answer. Unlike Jesus, Stevie usually responds promptly to my text messages. And the response was as surprisingly sage as it was concise:

"Road trip"

Hmm. I hadn't considered that. I could pack a duffel bag and a cooler and head out of town for a couple days. But where? Savannah is beautiful. And I've never been to Tybee Island. South Georgia was out of the question. Too many snakes and ex-boyfriends. And while the North Georgia mountains are nice, I've already seen much of that area while camping.

Wait... camping! I could bring the tent and save the expense of a hotel. And there's a campground I've never visited but have heard about in whispered legends and tales told around gay campfires. This could be my chance to finally see for myself if this idyllic place really existed!

Then I started second-guessing myself. For one thing, I was pretty sure JB would never approve of my spending the weekend at a gay, clothing-optional campground. Make that positive JB would never approve. I can debate at length whether or not that's reasonable of him, but there was no rationalizing the fact that this undertaking would be at odds with his wishes and expectations.

Not that this was the deciding factor. We both occasionally do things that we don't tell the other about. I usually find out his indiscretions when he feels guilty and confesses. And he usually finds out about mine when our nosey neighbor blabs.

So asking the neighbor to cat-sit was out of the question. Normally I could just top off their cat food dish and leave them alone for 36 hours and deal with the passive-agressive poo once I got back. But the fat one has been sick and needs his medicine three times a day. Who could I find to do that?

Finally, the probability of rain was close to 100%. I talked myself out of going.

I stayed home Friday night feeling extremely lame. I felt like I was letting my fear and apprehension get in the way of a spontaneous adventure. A chance to do something that was so unlike myself, even I'd be surprised. Who knows when an opportunity like this would present itself again.

I also had the feeling I was letting Stevie down, by not repaying his good advice with an equally good story of following it.

On Friday night I thought I smelled gas in the hallway of my condo building. I reported it to one of the board members who said she'd look into it and I went to bed. A couple hours later I woke up to the smell of gas in my bedroom. This time I called the gas company directly. They had to enter the unoccupied unit next door to find the stove was wide open but not lit.

Saturday morning I started feeling better. I'm sure someone else would have eventually called the gas company before the building exploded. But I still had the feeling I made the right decision by staying home. I channeled my craving for adventure into two days of unbridled "me time".


  1. So... you stayed home and masturbated all weekend?

  2. Yes Jim.....yes he did.

    Too many snakes and ex-boyfriends. Not mutually exclusive.

  3. I did other things. And when throwing in that last detail, I should have mentioned it has nothing to do with the title of the post.