Friday night Zen
I’m sitting on a soft comfy couch in my brand new living room with its brand new teal wall. This morning I woke up next to a sweet, brainy, sexy boy. This afternoon I spent with a friend that, if all goes well, will be a new play partner soon. I have dinner in the oven and another human being reading comic books two feet away.
So why do I feel angsty? Pretty much since early adolescence I have felt some pressure to go out on Friday nights. To prove that I am one of the cool kids, that I can get laid, that I don’t have to sit home alone. Having never had to sit home alone, I can’t imagine where this pressure comes from. Normally I value my alone time. I like having time to sit and write, catch up on my blog reading, or try to decipher the quantum physics book my absent-minded professor gave me. But it’s Friday night, and Friday nights are full of angst and drama that I’ve been carefully saving since highschool. Never mind that I am setting up for a sex party tomorrow; tonight I can fret about never getting laid again because I spent my Friday night reading about quantum physics.
For the record, boys who talk about science make me wet.