See.. we’d been trying to get together for a month now, and every time he’d ask me to join him somewhere.. I was busy. No no.. not dodging him busy, but actually had real plans already set up that I couldn’t get out of for one reason or another.
So when he asked me about this weekend and my schedule was completely empty for once, I told him he had first choice of when we’d meet. I planned on being there with bells on after the pain in the ass I’d been so far.
Then yesterday morning happened.
I woke feeling like crap. My stomach hurt like I’d eaten something rotten. I checked my calendar, and according to schedule, I wasn’t due for the monthly visit for a couple more days. Phew.
So I get up and run to the toilet thinking that I must just have gotten into something bad the night before and tried to jog my brain on what it might be.
No no.. no such luck. I’d started my monthly. Gotta love timing. Somebody somewhere really loves me.
The first day of my monthly .. at least 6 hours of it usually.. is spent in horrid pain. Normally I just cancel any plans I’ve made for that day which would require me to be happy, charming, and fun. Because:
A. I’m either going to still be in excruciating pain, and I’m not that great of an actress to be happy and charming while I feel like a gerbil is ripping up my insides.
B. I’m going to be unbelievably exhausted from the 6 hours of a gerbil ripping up my insides, and find it impossible to be charming while quelling the urge to curl up in the nearest chair and sleep.
So I really debated canceling my date. But since I’d been such a pain in the ass to make plans with in the first place, I couldn’t imagine him believing me that I needed to cancel without him taking it personally.
So I didn’t cancel. My pain wore off about 2 hours before we were to meet, and I was exhausted. I was walking around my apartment trying to get ready with all the ability of a zombie. It took me 45 minutes to do my hair and makeup which normally takes me about 20 max. In my sleepy haze, I lost track of time and ended up being a good 15 minutes late.
I now have it on my “life rules” list that I will cancel any future dates that happen to land on the starting day of my monthly.
I arrive and it quickly becomes clear to me that I’ve got about 5 braincells still working, and that’s all I can muster. Just enough that I don’t sound like a complete moron and I’m not yawning, but not enough to truly be my normal entertaining self.
The first sign of this was my complete inability to read the wine menu, comprehend it, and place an order in a timely manner. My date was chatting with me and talking and asking questions, and honestly that was about the limit to my cognitive abilities to be able to listen to him and respond with semi-charming responses.
I swear it took me about a half hour to order a glass of wine.
The guy was great though. Charming. Fun. and not as bad on the eyes as I feared he might be… ok, he’s kinda cute.
At the end of the date, he mentioned that he was dead tired and needed to head home. I agreed and said I was dead tired as well.
He might have been making excuses to end the evening.. I didn’t really care at that point. Ok I did care a little, but I was dead, and welcomed the excuse to go home.
I barely made it driving the 15 minutes home without falling asleep. I got home, tore my clothes off, and fell into bed.