Dateline: 2015-16. Across the street from the property mgmt. co is an old school diner. I chatted up the server at length. It wasn't busy in there. She was pleasant & plenty cute. We chatted for so long, and I was definitely solo still after several months, I decided to break the rule. Asking out your server isn't a good idea.
'Because I'm doing one year with God.'
I asked her about it a bit & quickly lost all interest when she explained. It was exactly how it sounds.
This anecdote nicely reflects my unsuccessful tries at lassoing a bird. One attempt in particular is blurb worthy. Connected with a local on whatever dating app I was using. Via the app she said she's keen on seafood and there's a good place in Clemmons, 15 or so miles away. I said groovy, & we agreed to carpool. She would pick me up. We hadn't spoken, just app back & forth. I met her outside in the loft's parking lot. Then she started talking & talking & talking. It was like a river. Maybe she was nervous? But no, she wasn't nervous. Do you know this expression: the shallow brook bubbles noisiest? Or how about: the empty can is noisiest. Yeah, that was her. I entered the car to a relentless gusher of sound. We had a mile to drive through dt to get to highway. Then 20-minute drive there. Then seafood dinner. Then 20-minute drive back. Oy.
But then! A solution occurred to me: please let there be a red light please let there be a red light please let there be a red light. And lo, ask & ye shall receive. We stopped at a red light I unbuckled seat belt mumbled 'sorry' got out hit the sidewalk & walked home. Jailbreak!
I actually did meet a nice bird, yoga teacher, at the end of the year who I saw for the next year, off & on. Mostly off. Our 1st makeout sesh occurred at the stroke of midnight on my birthday. Met her a week earlier, didn't mention my bday. She was irritated I hadn't. Live & learn. Way back in the day, with my CrazyCollegeGirlfriend™ I ushered in the new year on a frozen lake, specifically Lake Geneva, WI. Ah youth. Let's focus.
Yoga teacher had homeschooled her 2 boys, now late teens, both worked at a fast-food joint. Divorced a redneck idjit a few years earlier. Homeschooling meant a few items I came to learn. 1) There's no income in homeschooling. 2) There's no career advancement in homeschooling. 3). The 'students' always come from a religious household. 4). Religious households are everywhere in NC. 5) Homeschooling is everywhere in NC.
This is essentially a perpetuating bubble of poor education. My ladyfriend dropped out of college freshman year to marry the idjit, knocked up, never returned to college. Ergo, how is she qualified to teach geometry, trig, world history, Spanish, English lit, whatnot? More to the point, proper SAT type training, just in case they're college bound (they weren't, far from it). What quality instruction do isolation kids get? Or socialization for that matter? School sports? Clubs? Life in a bubble.
There was one haunting memory from that relationship. Isn't there always? The haunting memory is worth revisiting, as it was so unpleasant & surreal. Ergo, buckle up. We did a late winter weekend getaway in NYC to visit my long since grown up 'Little Brother.' He got both his degrees from NYU after attending Julliard. Ergo, he was a local by then, knew all the groovy places, esp around NYU / the village. Us & his ladyfriend (musician, actress, playwright) bopped around that area, taking in 2 live jazz clubs (Smalls & Bar Next Door) & also the groovy bar Philip Seymour Hoffman was a regular at (Minerva's). She & I hiked around Central Park. Had a great weekend. Had a gawdawful rental in a high rise where there was loudly heinous (radiator?) knocking throughout the night coming from somewhere. Barely slept. Anyhoots we had a 10am checkout and at 9:55 am there were maids outside the door. Our flight out wasn't until the afternoon ergo we needed to stash the bags til then. But the high rise wasn't a hotel, there was nowhere to stash them. Where do you stash bags for a few hours in NYC? Would a random hotel take them if we walked in off the street? Maybe had we said yeah we're staying here but didn't think of it. I'm sure the locals might know but we didn't.
We basically gave up and decided to head to the airport several hours early. Boring but hardly a big deal. Except. She decided to spend those hours in a bar, solo. Days later she told me the barkeep introduced her to long islands. The most potent drink. When in Rome, apparently. When she came over to me, reading on my laptop, I knew she was drunk. When we walked down the jetway she stumbled a few times & I became aware just how drunk. Then on the flight back to Greensboro, thankfully only a couple hours, she quietly wept for most of it. I left her alone. But then, the shitshow.
She apparently entered blackout territory during the flight. She started hassling me, louder & louder. The reason she gave was I didn't join her at the bar. Or something. I'm in my 2nd year of sobriety at this point which she's fully aware of but maybe not to someone in a blackout. But worse, something repressed in her brain got dredged up, nothing to do with me. Specifically, after we landed, her shitty 20-year marriage to hillbilly redneck, came pouring out LOUDLY. And directed at me. It must have been Sunday nite by then as all the stores were closed, it was just our flight walking. And the entire walk, from plane to outside to parking lot, let's say 15 minutes of continuous loud verbal abuse. It was fucking unreal. Everyone was staring at her. If there was security anywhere, they would have noticed. But it was Sunday night at the mostly closed Greensboro airport.
I kept quiet, thinking: why the fuck am I going through this verbal abuse again? Why the fuck did I just pay for a weekend NYC getaway? Is that my crime here? Being nice? Why am I being berated by a blackout drunk when I myself am committed to a life of sobriety?
But wait! There's more! As we're walking out of airport into parking lot, her loudly berating me the entire time (a laundry list of bad husband behavior...oops wrong guy) I'm thinking 'no fucking way you're getting in my car for me to drive you home. No. Fucking. Way.' So when we get to the car I unlock my side, only. Search for her keys which I cannot find anywhere. Dash, floors, nowhere. I speak for the 1st time in 10 minutes: 'There's no way you're getting in the car. Call a fucking taxi.' I literally didn't care if she has to sleep it off in the parking lot. You lose boyfriend privileges with this drunken aggressiveness. And I can't find her fucking keys. And I don't really care. Turns out they're in the center console, right there, but I miss them. So she starts furiously sms whoever, apparently some guy she went out with before me. I drive the 30 min home, in disbelief at how this weekend ended. Such a great trip, until she turned into the Hulk.
But wait! There's more! After an hour she keeps sms me saying she needs her keys. I reply I found them, I'll leave them in the lobby, don't come up to my flat, ever. So her son drives her back to retrieve. And then she begins the sms apology tour, for days. Calls & sms, over & over, apologizing for her behavior. I explain back how offensive her outburst was, esp. for a person who recently entered recovery sobriety. Anyhoots, we eventually got back together, sort of, but it was never the same for me and I never forgot about this. Also, her two teen boys didn't like me to start with (Yankee with actual taste in music & art) & me abandoning their drunken mess of a mom at the airport (from their pov) didn't exactly help.
She popped up in a Facebook memory recently. She has a different last name. Ergo I assume she's been adopted.
Speaking of my sobriety, since you asked, that 1st year in NC would mark my 1st year sober. Halloween, specifically. Was wondering how I would 'celebrate' that. And amazingly & randomly I somehow found it: a 3-day torture fest cycling event called Road Titans 300 in South Carolina. 3 days of centuries (100 miles) with 10,000 feet of climbing each day. A comically difficult endurance challenge outside of Clemson, SC. Perfect for my new commitment to physical health. Here's a short & amazing video clip of the event. And yes: Sassafras Mtn is one of the toughest climbs I've ever done. Had to serpentine in spots actually. Some walked. Watch that clip.
Also memorable about this trip was the Airbnb I stayed at. I should have stayed at the main hotel in town a couple miles away. That's where the other riders were at. Why did I choose to stay in isolation for several nights? I must have been in a go go Airbnb rental mode is all I can guess. Mistake. I stayed with a sad, older widowed woman who rented out the lower level. But I think I was her 1st ever visitor. She didn't want me to bring my spare bike into the house. The bedroom had 2 dresser's each packed with her stuff. The closet was packed with her stuff. Same with the dressers. She told me not to touch anything on the dresser. wtf? I should have looked around for hotels right then or at least the next day. So re my clothes, I used the entire floor as my closet. It was as ridiculous as it sounds. She insisted on cooking me brekky each morn, sausage & eggs. And joe from her filthy machine. I told her just toast & eggs are fine. At the table were mini copies of Ted Cruz campaign booklets. Yes: Teddy Cancun propaganda, that she clearly read (he was running for prez back then). She also talked at me incessantly to me nonstop, another river of sound, esp at brekky which was about the only time I saw her. I tuned it out, except for one memorable passage and I quote '...yadda yadda yadda until my husband's tumors returned.'
Thanks for that. Just how I wish to start the day.
I found a Chinese diner a mile away. Found a dirt road shortcut through the woods. Actually through an abandoned mobile trailer site. A couple nights I walked through it in pitch black darkness. I used my phone to light up the way. It was like walking through a deserted hillbilly vampire meth lab. I kept thinking I was gonna be attacked by bears or coonhounds or methheads. I never should have walked through there. I fucking hated staying there. She gave me positive rental feedback with the money line: 'I cooked him nutritious breakfasts each morning.' That's the south for ya. Right wing nutters & plates of grease. But I finished all 3 days of brutality, I sure was in good shape then. At the finish on day 3 we received a snazzy medallion around our neck, pretty cool.
Speaking of cycling, since you asked. I got in super shape in NC due to all my cycling. I biked all around NC, also trips to VA, SC & GA. Here's me during a 300k out of Athens, at the Georgia Guidestones. I could not believe my eyes when I saw & explored what it was. Truly magnificent:
Did a 1,000k ride across Ohio, Cleveland to Cincinatti & back. 4 days. The back 3 days we were rolling at 4am. Here's us right near the Kentucky border, very southern edge of Cincy in some residential neighborhood around 4:30am. We did these same stairs the night before heading into KY to the hotel:
Heading into downtown Cleveland at the finish, and my total mileage over 4 days:
The local climbing challenge, 20 miles north of Winston, the infamous 'Pilot Mtn.' A gawdawful steep 2-mile climb. This is me and it:
The weekly eve road ride out of Rural Hall. The best groups of guys, normal & friendly. Here's a snap from one of our rides:
Making friends with local endurance legend Jimmy. Did many long rides with him. He had a major southern drawl I got a kick out of. I did my first ever gravel ride with him, on my road bike (mistake). And what a ride, the Linville Gorge aka 'the grand canyon of NC.' And how bouts the beastly climb up Mt. Mitchell, oy. Here's me at summit, after a nonstop 2+ hour climb:
Anyhoots. Lotsa bikey. I scored a corner unit ground floor in my loft after a few months there, couldn't believe my good fortune. Way easier with bikes, and less neighbor issues re my music:
Speaking of music, since you asked, one day I was on the elevator holding an expensive Octave tube amp the nearby audio dealer loaned me. A guy in elevator looks at it and says 'hey an Octave tube amp.' These are obscure, high end german tube amps. Turns out he was my neighbor, same floor, end unit a few doors down. Never had seen him. He is a tenured prof at the nearby big uni Wake Forest. And like me a major music & stereo gear fan. He owned a couple tube amps & Harbeth speakers. He was also an African music fan. An impossible koinkidink. We became chums right then & there. Still keep in touch via email.