Should Old Friends Be Forgotten

You know that little voice in your head that tells you that maybe you shouldn't be doing something? Not the kind that tells you to slash the tires of that guy who just stole your girl, that's a different voice. Hmm but I swear I don't have like a lot of voices in my head, just the two, the one that tells me maybe what I'm doing isn't the brightest idea I've had all week and the other one that tells me to ignore the first one because it never wants to have any fun. I find I tend to listen to the wrong one consistently. I have made an art out of ignoring that little voice. As I get older though I find I'm listening to it more than I use to but still not at the times it really matters.

In the last year and few months I have lost to people very close to me. First my cousin, B and then less than a year after my world turned inside out with the loss of B, his best friend and a guy who was like a big brother to me, A, died. The three of us had created our own little family years ago, me and my boys. We were like brothers and sister. Those two looked out for me as much as I looked out for them. They were both so alike but yet so different. They had their own way of going about things, I have started calling the little voice that tells me not to do something incredibly dumb, B and the one that tells me to just do it anyways because it will be fun A. If you knew them, you would realize how fitting this truly is. But I digress, I was blogging about ignoring that little voice B and the consequences of doing so.

Tonight after work I was dead tired, I just wanted to go home and relax for once because I have the next two days off. Needing a few things I decided to make a quick run to Target, because in the new found spirit of redoing my house and cleaning it out, I'm finding I need to buy a few thing in which to fill it, ironic isn't it? I have justified these purchases to myself by saying I am getting rid of all the worn out and old things. I decided I needed, not wanted, but needed new bathroom rugs. Off to Target I went. While browsing through the kitchenware's (I apparently need new cookie sheets and Corningware pans as well) I ran into an old friend, Dixie, I haven't seen in a couple years. I'm calling her Dixie because it makes me laugh because she acts like she grew up on some grand southern plantation, complete with slight accent, when in reality she grew up in Northern Illinois. (OK, full disclosure, she's an ex). It's always odd to run into someone who once shared so much with you, that you knew each other like the back of your hand only to find a few years later you're complete strangers. We got to chatting, at first is was a weird hey, hi, how have you been kind of conversation. It was a little sad to think that this person who you once cared so much about has become just back story to your life, the feelings have faded and they cease to cause that intense feeling of excitement you use to get when you use to see them daily. Our break up was less than nice, she dumped me for a cop she had met one night while we were out at the gay bar. Like on the spot dumped me. We didn't talk for a few months after that but being the good lesbian I am we became friends about a year later but had lost touch a few years ago. She had fallen victim to the coupledom syndrome, lesbians are especially prone to this disease, though the gay boys seem almost immune to it. ( For those not in the know, coupledom syndrome is when your friend finally gets a girlfriend/boyfriend/ high speed internet service and disappears off the face of the Earth only resurfacing for extremely important events like gay pride. If the significant other isn't glued to them when they do make that rare appearance, they will constantly talk about them. In severe cases they stop talking about themselves in the singular and everything becomes us and we. Near fatal cases involve matching outfits.)

Long story short, Dixie and the cop chick had been together for almost 5 years, then the cop chick dumped her about 6 months ago. She invited me out to this little dive bar. The little voice in my head was saying it was bad, bad idea. I ignored it and found myself saying, sure. 30 minutes later we were at this little corner bar, drinking Rolling Rocks and playing pool. She started on what would be a 2 hour tirade about every little slight and slander her ex caused her, real and imagined. I listened and felt my eyes glazing over. If it had been interesting I would have been much more interested but her shopping list of wrongs included such things as buying yellow roses instead of red on her birthday, leaving her clothes in the dryer, not walking the dog enough, just a bunch of little mundane so what kind of things. To Dixie they weren't little things but about halfway through her tirade I remembered why I had lost touch with her. She's pretty high maintenance and a bit, um, demanding. Not in the good kind of demanding that can be hot sometimes but the whiny, it's all about me, I'm a princess and you better treat me as such kind.

Now, remember I live in the Midwest and we were not at a gay bar, but at some dingy neighborhood bar, crowded with regulars, mostly old guys, guys on their way to being old guys and skanky barfly women. Most of whom had been listening to Dixie's rant on her girlfriend to the point where even the old guy who's butt print was permanently worn into the stool at the end of the bar and hadn't been sober since the 80's got the hint that we were gay. Not that I'm not obvious anyways. After a couple beers and a few games of pool this old guy comes up to us and starts chatting us up. He offers to buy us a shot if we kiss. I try to laugh it off but Dixie grabs me and lays one on me. I had forgotten that she was quite the drinker and would do almost anything for free drinks and attention. A few guys laugh, the old guy buys us a shot and that should have been the end of it. Dixie is talking to the old guy and a couple if his friends. I guess one of the bar skanks had claimed him because she pipes up with how disgusting we are. Dixie is not having it. I guess I also forgot to mention that Dixie has quite the temper on her when she drinks. I had forgotten that little point as well, but not the little voice in my head. B had tried to warn me.

Dixie yells at her, "No you're disgusting." Such a clever reply. Bar Skank then says something about Dixie not being able to get a man and then Dixie goes over by Bar Skank and starts yelling and Bar Skank is yelling and the bartender is yelling and chaos is ensuing, and I'm just drinking my beer. All the memories of spending many such nights with Dixie come flooding back. Ah, yes, this is why it was a bad idea to go out drinking with Dixie. She's highly irritable when she's been drinking. After about 5 minutes of yelling 3rd grade insults back and forth at each other, the bartender has decided we are troublemakers and kicks us out. I try to pull Dixie towards the door but this little fireball isn't finished yet, as a parting shot she pushes Bar Skank into the bar. Nice one. I can tell we are about to be physically removed if we don't leave, so I start pulling at Dixie with a bit more urgency, well that turned out to be the wrong thing to do, she turns around and punches me right in the chest. Ouch. I yell at her, you just punched me, you ass! Yeah, call me Captain Obvious. Now the bartender is saying she's calling the cops. Punching me must have shocked a bit of sense into Dixie because she starts apologizing to me. I'm just wanting to get the hell out of there and as far away from this psycho as possible. I tell her, it's ok, no worries, lets just get the hell out of there. I finally got her out of the bar and because I'm a glutton for punishment offered to give her a ride home as she is way to drunk to drive. She's still telling me how sorry she is. It took a few minutes but I finally convinced her to let me drive her home. Thankfully nothing happened on the way home, just her saying over and over how sorry she was. I dropped her off and breathed a sigh of relief that I was finally rid of her.

Now I am safely at home, admiring my new bathroom rugs and the bruise I'm going to have to match them in the morning. I really need to listen to that little voice more often.