Monday, August 29, 2011

THE WEEKEND...

Saturday, after Desi left for his meeting in the Valley I set about getting the house straightened out and the cats fed.  That afternoon, around three o'clock, Desi called and was on his way back.  It usually takes and hour and a half to get to my place, in good traffic, in bad it is three and a half hours.  The weekend doesn't make a difference, traffic wise.  This time it held to the hour and a half.

We got ready to leave the house and drive to Newport for dinner and dancing.  Everything was perfect until dinner was finished.  We both had the same thing to eat, salmon,  except he had mashed potatoes with sauce of some type and I had boiled potatoes.  I also gave him the last part of my salmon to eat.  It wasn't fifteen minutes later that Desi was said he had an upset stomach.

I told him we should just go home, but he didn't want to do that.  We had danced a couple of dances and the band was a good one.  However, if one needs to run to the bathroom and doesn't feel great, common sense would dictate you leave and go home.  He insisted we go to another place to dance, one can't tell him what to do, so we did.

Now this is the man that maybe had four hours of sleep the night before, had been on the road for hours and hours and then ate something that didn't agree with him.  He said that he thought the last piece of salmon that I gave him tasted different then his and that maybe it was the sauce on the mashed potatoes that didn't mix with the bourbon.  Whatever it was, he really wasn't well, plus he was starting to yawn.

This time I insisted we go home after dancing three or four dances.  He fell asleep immediately when we got back home at ten thirty, and he didn't awake until after seven, which is really late for him.  I was still asleep when he got dressed to go to Starbucks to pick up coffee and a New York Times newpaper, which is his routine every Sunday. Mr. Starbucks Gold card.

When he returned ,we sat around and talked for hours, then I made a steak and egg breakfast.  The night before I was telling him several of the reasons that my core group of friends didn't like me seeing him.  One bitch from them is that he has never brought me a flower. That morning when I walked out to the kitchen there was a rose sitting on top of the New York Times.  Granted it was a rose from my yard, but I thought it was sweet and funny. He thinks that the core group should just be happy for me and that they were just jealous I was having fun and they weren't.   I don't think that.  I think they are so used to seeing me in the same box for years it is hard for them to understand that I'm not that person anymore, (if I ever was,)  but as my one good friend said, "people don't like change."

Like everyone, Desi wants to be liked and he doesn't get the picture of why some of them are negative about him. Some of them are coming around, after all I've been seeing Desi for thirteen months...get use to it. Besides, it only matters if I like him. Our relationship is different and if I want to date him and have a great time when we see each other, they shouldn't care....keep your opinions to yourself, although in this group that isn't going to happen.  I know they only have my best interest at heart, but I'm a big girl and I know what I'm doing. God, being free is worth more then gold and I don't want someone in my life twenty four seven.


Whatever had upset Desi, food wise, the night before had dissipated. We ate in the backyard and finally came in as the temperature was climbing close to ninety.  We sat around, read the paper and watched the news.  It was around noon and the Luau was at three.  I had my reservations about him going to the Luau as most of the people there aren't  young and it isn't the most stimulating place to be.  He decided to go back to his house, much to my relief, and off he went.

I got ready to go to the Luau, which was a fund raiser, and enjoyed seeing some of the people that I know, but I knew Desi would not have liked  being there.  My boy of privilege and Beverly Hills functions.  He always asks me what I'm doing behind the Orange Curtain and for the life of me the only thing I can say is, " I got trapped."

That was the weekend and this week is another week of appointments and things to do. I'm off to piddle around the house and hopefully stay home today.




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