Strongly Worded

Lady Luck

So Mr. D went to Las Vegas for the weekend with the boys. I was all blasé about everything (when he said that he’d miss me, and I thought to myself: please, how could you miss me, we’ve been together barely a month and you’re going to be surrounded by strippers?). Yet I was, and remain, unhappy about the trip because:

1) It illustrates fundamental (or maybe not-so-fundamental?) differences between us. The people in my circle do not go to Vegas “to party”, nor do they use “party” as a verb. If I went to Las Vegas with my people, we wouldn’t succeed in getting on the VIP list for clubs featured in the Real World. We wouldn’t even try.

2) I didn’t want him getting with a stripper in celebration of his new-found, no-longer-married freedom, and then deciding that said freedom was too tantalizing to give up. (Also, if “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”—does that include exposure to STDs?). I felt a wave of possessiveness: I didn’t want him getting with a stripper at all.

Turns out my blasé was totally skin deep, because turns out I missed him, a lot. I woke up at 4 a.m. and thought about where he was and what (who?) he was doing. I dreamt that we had a date and he failed to show up. I checked my email obsessively, hoping that, as promised, he’d send me a photo of his meal at Nobu.

And Mr. D totally came through. He sent me a camera-phone photo of the view from the hotel, and he called me from the airport on his way home. Also he emailed me first thing this morning so we can find a time to get together.

Who the hell knows what will happen with us, but at least right now, I feel quite lucky indeed.

Posted by Dori at 6:37 PM