All right. So I am writing this post after two lovely, lovely strongbow ciders (I'm a cheap drunk, what can I say??)
Going out just kind of fell into my lap this late afternoon. After the usual antagonistic text messages with the ex having to do with the fact that I feel I can't count on him and then the reply that if I could have said "no" when he wanted to skip Monday's visit (bangs head against keyboard)....I knew I just needed to get out.
Oddly enough, another one of online boys just happened to sign in shortly after I did this afternoon - and he's never online during the day. Put the idea out there for a drink or two this eve, he was up for it, and off I went -once I informed the ex that he's a father in name only and this cancelling of visits is ridiculous. Told a small white lie for my reason for going out (a post partum group, didn't you know?) and left angered, upset, tense and frustrated. All things that require a good pint.
Pints were fabulous. Company was enjoyable; we have similiar music tastes, are the same age, speak the same "I graduated university in the 1990s" language. Very understanding that I was on a curfew so walked with me to the subway.
And here is where the problem arose. I was aware he was shorter than I was, in flats. A quick hug on the subway plaftform and I realized how much shorter: he's hobbit sized. At the pub he was sitting down when I came in and I'll blame the strongbow on the fact that I didn't take a really good look at him when he would use the facilities. Pocket sized.
All right. So I'm superficial.. Yell all you want. I don't mind a bending down to give a hug, but an all out crouch? Enough to make this already ungraceful and ungainly woman feel downright massive.
and now...another decision....But at least the wee shit is asleep, curled up to his stuffie and looking mighty sweet. He's allowed to be hobbit sized when he's that adorable.