Hi, Friends,
Throughout the world was sent a big, bold message on the side of love, fairness, and justice for everyone. It was incredibly touching, uplifting, and hopeful to be in a crowd of thousands at Chico's March for Women. Did any of you go to a March? Watch from home? Awesome, yes? I don't have photos, but I wanted to acknowledge such a historic day before I turn to selfish, micro matters.
-----------------------------------------More Prelude to the Bar Brawl--
You've met Scorpio. After his restless legs scurried out of my apartment to take a "break" (cuz, yeah, imagine the agony of dating me for an entire three weeks!), he ignored me completely. Nearly two months passed. Despite being hurt, I didn't reach out and figured it was for the best. I still frequented the bar where we met. Mind you, I hate the bar scene and don't drink at all. Many of my friends, though, are musicians, and there's a lively Open Mic at this bar.
You might recall that Scorpio hardly ever drinks alcohol, or so he told me. But when I saw him on a bar stool one night in December, he was red-faced, dopey, and gulping down beers.
both photos - google images
I'd been friendly with Methie off and on for a few years. Methie knows she's the world's greatest singer, though her voice is loud, screechy, and off-key. Methie likes men, especially men who talk to her. Methie drinks and smokes pot, like much of the community. As far as harder stuff, *let's just say that methamphetamines are known to completely destroy a person's mouth and gums. And meth is tragically highly used in these here parts. Why'd I introduce you to Methie? Because after I saw drunken Scorpio, I noticed that he and Methie were talking. It appeared they'd already become acquainted.
My friend Brandi and I sat at a table midway between the bar and the stage.
Minutes later, Methie casually approached us. "Hi Methie," I said, "so you were talking to my ex."
"I know, but he said you're not dating anymore Robyn. We're just talking, we both like hiking, Is that okay?" --Methie's speech rate increased, and she talked in weirdly spiraled contradictions that allowed no room for my response-- "we're only talking Robyn, we're going hiking, we both like to hike, we've been hanging out for three weeks, we're only friends. I'm so sorry. Is it okay?" Her face contorted into an expression of: I'm getting some and you're not but I'm pretending to care about you.
"Well no, Methie, it's awkward. You don't date a friend's ex, girl code. That's dis--"
Methie interrupted with a shout: "I didn't know you were dating until recently! We both like hiking. That's all. Okay, I won't hang out with him. I respect you too much." Methie nodded, as if she'd convinced herself. She then rushed over to drunken Scorpio at the bar. Next thing I saw was Methie with her arm around drunken Scorpio's shoulder. She escorted him to a booth a few yards from us, and within direct eye shot, one foot from the stage. There, they sat snuggly, as if about to perform for me. Blood pounded through my veins. I was hurt, perplexed, enraged.
Brandi turned to me, "Wait, Robyn, you were friends before, right?"
"Well, yeah, not good friends, but we were friendly."
"That's wrong of her. And Robyn," Brandi extended her neck to take a hard look at Methie, "Good Lord, you're way cuter! And at least you have all your teeth!" -to be continued.
