Sidebars ... And Then Not

First of all--only in New York. This news article makes me despair of the human race, sometimes, I do declare. That's just too ridiculous to contemplate. This is why some countries absolutely hate America.

Secondly, last night at My Night Job, I made a startling discovery. Snapper is a junkie. Not the needles & tie-off-a-vein version, but a suburban, self-medicating bored white kid stoner-with-short-hair version. The longer I work with him, the more he spills. So last night he reveals that he and his friend get high every night. What he doesn't know is that the systematic death of his brain cells is no mystery to anyone else but him. Remember I said he was slow? Now we know why. The other revelation that he disclosed last night is that he is kickin' it with Red (the fellow employee who I only mentioned once because she's harmless. And, apparently, into getting stoned and flirting around with Snapper in his basement mano a mano).

People are hooking up around me like it's the mating special on the Animal Channel. A few other weeks ago, I watched Baby Boy get a girl's digits while he took her order. He was very smooth and I had to give him his props after she left. And he confessed that he already had her digits, but he wanted to have a reason to talk to her some more.

Then in my Friday night D&D group, the geeks are getting their mack on as well! The DM brings his girlfriend to the game because she enjoys the game and knows the rules. But she's hot as a Victoria's Secret model. I isht you not. She works at a cosmetics counter in THE biggest department store in NYC. Then another feller in the group, who I've gamed with in another group a few years ago, got married to his live-in girlfriend two weeks ago. And lately, another in the group has started bringing his girlfriend to the meetings. She's new to his life, and she's a cute waifish little blonde who doesn't play D&D but digs him enough to hang out while we play -- for HOURS. Now that's some love right there. (Or desperation).

So that brings me to my sitch.

All your comments on what I should do with Day Girl are spot on. If I had a client with the same questions, I would have said the same things. But it wasn't a test of your counseling skills, I promise. It's just a totally different thing between my head and heart.

What I know is right doesn't always translate to my emotions. See, Worst-Case Scenario Man (my inner demon) doesn't pester me about other people's problems--only my own. What looks like shyness inside of me is actually terrification(TM). A litany of Worst-Case Scenarios pour through me like ticker tape. "What if this, what if that, what if the other ..." and on and on and every answer to every question equates to disaster. Life-changing results to insure misery and torture for the rest of my meager existence on the planet. And when the Worst Cases are flowing through, they come with this paralyzing nerve agent that locks up my tongue. You've seen this in movies and television shows, I'm sure. I'm here to verify for you ... it's real.

Having said all that, I am going to ask Day Girl out. I will get her telephone # from her sister, who she revealed works at one of the sites I go to regularly. She also lives in a nearby New Jersey city which has a transportation line directly to NYC. I plan to ask her to dinner and a movie in NYC, because that's where I shine.

And then I think I'll probably need to blog like an absolute fiend.

The "what ifs" are starting ...

I'm going to schedule an emergency meeting with my therapist ...

... and with all of you, of course ...

help!