It was a jam packed weekend, and I’m glad for it. Tony’s silence and arrival tomorrow is starting to weigh heavy. Friday night I spent with a close friend and her next-door neighbour, and it was an alcohol-fueled hilarious and very detailed conversation about men and sex. It’s great to have good friends with whom I can speak openly, and I’m grateful for them.
Saturday after a sports practice for Liam, he and I drove to my father’s town which is about 90 minutes from my house. My half-brother, who is 16 years my junior, was having a birthday party. I hung out with him and his fiance, some other family members, and his friends.
When I came inside to get dinner, there was a very tall, blonde, and handsome man sitting on a bar stool already eating. I had never seen him before, and didn’t catch his name right away when I introduced myself. Turns out he’s a friend of my brothers from a theatre production they did together. He is Dutch. And a farmer. Literally, yes, a real farmer. A young, handsome, tall, Dutch, farmer.
In addition to thinking he was cute, I also love meeting new people, especially those in fields I know nothing about. But alas, he had to go before I got to really dive into the topic of the usage of human antibiotics on animals.
I took a break in the festivities to go with my Dad to the local theatre to watch one of my uncles perform amazingly well in a two-hander play. The Farmer was in the back, doing the sound. After the show I asked him if it would be an imposition if my son and I came by to visit his farm the next day. He said normally it wouldn’t, but he couldn’t that next morning. He asked how often I came to town and we agreed that next time, we’d make it work.
Liam was being put to bed by my step-mother that evening, so I went back to my brother’s place where the party continued. It was nice to get caught up with him and one of my first cousins. Later on, the Farmer showed up.
It was one of those parties where the conversation was varied and the laughs raucous, at 2am I realized how late it was and Liam would be waking me up shortly. But then, me and my cousin and the Farmer went outside to talk about cars and the stars. It was all I could do not to ask my cousin to give us space so I could lean up, looking into those beautiful blue eyes, and kiss the Farmer.
I didn’t. Instead, I went home and put myself to bed without even taking my makeup off.
Sunday was brunch, drive home, birthday party drop off, knocking four things off my to-do list, party pick up, and a drive to Will’s house, where I dropped off Liam for the week.
So I’m alone in my house for the week. I’m sad; I will miss Liam terribly. Thankfully work is picking up a little bit. And I’ve filled my social calendar. I have no idea when Tony is getting back on Monday, or even if he will reach out when he arrives. Tomorrow I have an early dinner with a girlfriend. On the off chance he wants to see me, I’ll be availble later in the evening. But not immediately available. I kind of like that, all things considered.
Tuesday I’m going to a book launch party with another girlfriend. Wednesday after work I’m seeing a former colleague after work (actually one I’ve written about, but now it’s just platonic) for drinks and maybe dinner, and Friday I’m going overnight on a theatre trip with my Mom and two girlfriends.
Truth be told, my plan making was as much about wanting to take advantage of having seven nights free, as it was mitigation of the lonliness I will feel if my relationship with Tony ends this week. And I should be asleep, but instead I’ve watched probably seven “Mad Men” episodes back to back. Sigh. I suppose there are far worse things.