The love & hatred for South Beach

In my constant duality of "I love South Beach" . . . no . . . "I hate South Beach" the past few days have proven both.

On Saturday, I was at The Palace . . . but of course, where else would I be for weekend happy hour?!?! I was to meet a new friend for drinks and of course, ran into some of the usual suspects . . . always comforting! At any rate, he did finally arrive and was in a horrific mood. Work has been extremely hectic for him and it had taken its toll. Well, a co-worker of his (who I later realized I had slept with about 2 years ago) later arrived and the two of them chit-chatted pretty much to themselves. While this was going on, I was sort of having a conversation with another visitor from California, who, whilst we were chatting, was in the process of hooking up with another friend of mine (who was reciprocating ferociously!). Is this new for South Beach? Absolutely not! Am I tired of it? Absolutely! Our cocktail hour ended rather quickly as they all left very early on. Not what I had hoped for or expected. Left to my own devices, I trudged on and headed to the outside bar where . . .

I was approached about my WICKED t-shirt (I swear . . . I can't wear that thing in public anymore). I chatted with this stranger who proceeded to hit on me. Now, after what had previously happened, I started to buy right into it and think, "well, it's South Beach, I guess that's what I have to deal with . . . might as well go with it, right?" The stranger left and later came back with his dog and continued to try to hook up with me. Now, I decided that I just wasn't about all of that and was defiantly holding my ground when all of a sudden, I felt coolness on my left side . . . he was choking . . . no wait . . . he was VOMITING!!!! ON ME!!!! Now, that is NO WAY to get a girl into bed, lemme tell you! Needless to say, he didn't get any from me and I ran home immediately and took a nice long shower.

But wait, there's more . . . whilst grocery shopping at Publix last night (Monday) I was walking down the frozen food aisle to get to produce . . . out of the corner of my eye, I saw the mad puker! I immediatly picked up my speed (my gait is already rather swift) and ran toward the melon display! Oh how I was hoping he wouldn't see me. And fortunately, he didn't. But do you think I could leave it at that? NO!!!!!!!!! Hiding behind and carefully peering around the cantaloupes, I had to take a peek to see what it might have been I ended up wearing on Saturday . . . Stouffers? Green Giant? Swanson?

I still am not sure and quite frankly, don't think I need to know. I'm not sure what cosmic forces were at work or what that whole 48 hours was about, but it certainly makes me laugh . . . and cry . . . South Beach . . . love it and hate it!

The next step needs to be about me!

After leaving a voice mail for Bozo on Sunday and not hearing, in my infinite wisdom, while battling a bit of insomnia at 4:30am on Tuesday, I decided it would be a good idea to send him a text message . . . "So ur not gonna return my call? That answers my question. Thanks." Every time I start to move on, even in the slightest, he contacts me. Last night was no exception. He decided to reply with "What was your question?". Well, he got it today. I wrote a long letter to him telling him the question was that I wanted clarification as to what kind of relationship he wanted with me . . . friendship, bed buddy, something more, so that I could then decide what I wanted. Well, with the help of a friend, I took an email that was wishy washy and made it about protecting me. I have no idea how he'll respond. Logically, I know it is right for me and my well-being. Inside, it hurts. Damnit! What do I want now . . . well, for him to come a runnin' and start a courtin'! And it could happen . . . probably the same day Miami sees a blizzard! Ah well, I am in town the weekend and will spend it at the Palace . . . lots of liquor and probably some grab ass with the troops! Damn the Latinos . . . full speed ahead . . .