A Slow Friday Night

I'm chilling at home after what's been the most stressful week in months, in some regards, but a good one in others. Still, I'm spent.

My acupuncturist tells me I have a chi deficiency. Meaning, my lifeforce is weak. I believe him. I feel it, day in and day out.

My health is better, I'm stronger, more fit than I've probably ever been, yet I'm fucking spent. All the time. It's an effort. Better than it used to be, but because I exercise so much it's a compounded/cumulative thing. I could probably KICK YOUR ASS, and I can exercise for two hours straight, but I likely require two hours more sleep a night than you, at least, and have an intimate relationship with my couch these days. Not cool.

I'm gonna do some research on chi this weekend. It can't hurt, right? I've let typical medicine have their kick at the can, and now it's time to do it Oriental-style, baby.

But I'm tired of being tired. I'm working real fuckin' hard to be strong, powerful, and fit, but I'm constantly against the current, and it sucks ass.

However. I'm starting to feel a little sharper. Hopefully that'll continue. The doc says my chi being weak, even though I may be strong, I don't have the strength to bear my own weight, and not just in a physical way, you know? And I sort of get that. And it's why I'm tired all the time, and why my wrist is too weak for cycling right now and shit like that.

But now I want to change it. If I've seen anything this year, it's how good I am at making the change I want when I'm willing to work for it. So we'll see how this all shakes down.

***

Gotta tidy up some more and do "spa morning" on the morrow. Got an afternoon date. I'd like to completely skip dating by meeting a good guy tomorrow. That'd be nice. Just beeline into a decent relationship. I'm ready for that.

Not, however, ready for the rejection and weirdness of "trying on for size" random dating right now. But this seems like something promising. 24 hours and I'll know better, won't I?

Yawn. A date is good. I had a date around Christmas where I stood the guy up. First time ever. Sucked, too. Just wasn't into it, had some delayed Christmas blues or something. I'd told the guy I wasn't into meeting anyone for a few weeks. So he's all "cool, cool" and next thing he's pressuring for a date again. Same response. Again with the pressure, three or four times in about 8 days or something. Finally, I said yes.

Then I just didn't go. Funnily, I got dressed and everything I was at the bus stop, the bus pulled up, I looked at it, and I thought "Wow, I'm so uncomfortable about this" and the pressure thing clicked and I realized I wasn't in my right mind 'cos normally I'd have just said, "You know what? Fuck you. You're not respecting what I asked, so, hasta la vista" after the third time of being a thick-headed twit.

So, you know, my bad. Instinct kicked in too late. Such is life. I got in touch with the guy and apologized and all, but just never agreed to anything else.

That was the last dating thing. Before that was just an awful series of, well, mostly idiots over 18 months. No one I was excited about the night before, the day of.

Well, one I was quite keen to meet. It turned out he had over-Photoshopped his photo and lied about everything, and turned out to be an "appointment maker" for an "escort service" who was answering "business calls" on our coffee date. I guess Saturday's a busy night for him. He was totally skirting around his job until I dusted off my fucking journalism creds and pressed him for the truth. Sheepishly he told me of his job and how he was always of "assistance" to the escorts. He was also four inches shorter than he claimed and about 10 years older than he claimed, so. Yes. Shortest date ever. What, an hour? Now I'm skeptical of everyone.

Icing on the cake was when I was at work about two months later, working on a documentary about the sex trade, and he was a central storyline, going with the escorts to get their STD tests done and taking photos for their ads and stuff. Yeah. That was a weird day at work. Several hours of "I'm so fucking glad I went home. I'm so fucking glad I went home. Yay! I went home!"

"Promising" is a nice word to use for a change. I'm restraining my hopes for now. It's better that way, yeah? Ha. Ahh, the cynical dater. If you've been on the last 10 or 12 dates I've had, you'd nod sadly and empathize, man. Whew. Jesus, what an array of undesireable men. What was I thinking? Oh, right, they sounded good on paper.

So, yes. Restraint, but with promise. :)