The Big Life lasted a week. I was over it by this past Friday. And though friends like to say "it's age," it's not that. I didn't get tired, the town did.
I did a lot of dating in my one social week of the season. There are two guys I'd like to stay in touch with. Other than that, nada. Sex and the City could fill half a new season with the tragedies I met. Closet cases, guys who come on hard then turn tail and run, one guy turned out to be married, and one guy who was so nervous he never stopped talking. I had a beer, he had a diet pepsi, and he told me about the fall of the Roman Empire. And that might have been interesting except that he didn't really know shit about it beyond what he might have learned watching I Claudius reruns.
He had offered a massage earlier, and I was too tired to handle. I finished my beer, interrupted his monologue, and just laid it out. This massage thing? It's not going to happen. And I know that was the total asshole way out of it but I just didn't have the energy to come up with something more civil. He decided it was time to get on the bus.
So, that was the end of that social experiment. I stayed home the rest of the weekend. I need to start cross-training for Rio Va`a anyway, so I decided to finally go back to capoeira. Tonight was my first class in maybe four or five years. It's been a long time. I remembered the individual attacks and escapes, but the combinations were hard, and it was all combinations. Peter led it, and there were only tow oter students tonight. Which was good, I needed the attention. I should be feeling pretty damn good by tomorrow morning (i.e. the pain will be systemic and total).