Last night didn't go so well.
Apparently my new plan of attack is going to be to make myself as unattractive and act as horrible as I possibly can. Not suprisingly it didn't really work and I am back to square one.
Jacob called back at 6 to let me know his meeting was going to run long, so I fed and bathed the kids and then got them tucked in and mercifully they were zonked anyway and went straight to bed with no fuss. This rarely happens.
Then I curled up in the porch swing with a book and a large glass of wine. It's been a long week, wine is a nice treat right?
Only Jacob showed up at 8ish. By then the glass of wine had become three glasses and I was feeling no pain whatsoever. All I had eaten yesterday up until then was a half a piece of bunny's toast that morning. Oh shit.
Seriously, I think I have been that smashed exactly four times in my life. This was not a good night to pull this particular stunt.
Jacob got halfway up the front walk when I stood up rather ungracefully and said,
If yer gonna jus' come on in and have sex with me and break my heart 'gain go the fuck 'way, kay Jakey?
He laughed. A great big laugh that rang out loud. I steadied myself by pressing my forehead against the screendoor. It left a lovely imprint.
He told me this was great because I don't stop and measure my thoughts before I speak when I've been drinking and it lets him talk to the real Bridget-the one who speaks her mind without thinking it through the way sober Bridget does.
I'm sure I swore some more at him. Apparently I told him he needed to find a job here doing carpentry, since Jesus was a carpenter. And that Jesus doesn't love his children, in fact he has favorites and I'm not one of them. And God doesn't love me either because he handed me to Satan and Satan is now in control and I'm becoming someone I hate and ohmygod am I glad the kids are asleep because I am fucking unglued. I told him I was going to hell and taking him with me and he should leave me alone because hell burns like fire, baby.
Oh so pretty.
I had tears streaming down my face and I'm sure there was snot pouring out of my nose. The screen door left a red mark on my forehead. Already famous for the ugly-crying, I must have looked a sight. Dumb strappy dress with one strap falling down and barefeet that were dusty from being out earlier in the yard. My ponytail fell out from lying on the swing. Terrific.
What does he do? He kisses me. Hard. Snot and all.
What a great guy.
For my grand finale I tried to get him to take me to bed. No point in writing out the ugly details of that, I was once again soundly rejected (it had to be the snot) and sent to bed. Alone. He did stay in the guest room, so the kids had at least one grown up in the house who was conscious. And sane.
This morning he said he was actually very tempted by me and that even with the snot I can't shut Bridget the sex kitten down and it's hilarious. He said when I twirl a lock of my hair and look down at the floor it is his favorite thing in the world and it makes him come apart at the seams a little only because of the way I do it without thinking about it, being someone who thinks everything through first. I almost threw my coffee mug at his head but moving that fast would have caused my head to hurt even more.
Then he made me some eggs and toast and sat staring at me until the plate was empty and suggested tonight I stick to water to drink or we're never going to get anywhere.
I may have still been drunk when I suggested maybe he have a few glasses of wine so he could tell me what he really thinks.
He said he is bigger than me and probably has a lot more snot.