Ah, St.Particks day!! With the exception of Halloween, could there be a more evil celebration of this planet??
Well, get your morning cup of coffee, Irish if you prefer, and let D-Dog enthrall you with a tale so scandalous, so full of debachery, so incredible perverse, that it should be called, "50 Shades of Kray!"
It all started innocently enough, as with most stories. I had worked a long day, and as usual, spent my time pondering life. With the help of an intoxicating female co-worker, I've been able to slowly break through some mental and emotional barriers, which has helped me reverse the chronic tunnel-vision of JWism.
My beautiful co-worker, with whom I exchange a myriad of texts, ( Dating?? Cause we use a shit-ton of emojis, like 😁😊☺️😍😘😉😚😎😂. Suck it, TOMO!) were discussing the terrible fate of being stuck at work, missing the St. Patrick's day festivities. Over the course of a few months we have grown closer, and she knows my entire story. She even knows that I've been threatened with divorce for apostasy. So, like any gorgeous co-worker, she told me I could live with her if I needed to. I'm assuming that's normal? But, I digress...😈
As the work day ends we exchange goodbyes. I say, "Have a wonderful evening. I'm going home to watch Netflix with my cat."
"Oh?? Really?", she giggles. Then she says, "I thought Wednesday was your boring night?"
I laughed, because she knows that I never go to mid-week meetings anymore, and I'm also not accepting "encouraging visits." So, we part ways. Around 8pm, I'm going stir-crazy! I know that somewhere, people are being normal, and having fun. Meanwhile, I'm in a prison. Then I realize that I hold the key....
I text her, "OMG...so.......bored!!!! 😥", as I slowly stir my freshly poured cocktail.
Minutes later, the phone vibrates in that familiar custom alert that gets my heart racing, "Go out with us tonight...😉"
A slight panic washes over me. I know in my head that I have a very important choice ahead. One that is time sensetive in many ways. You see, there is a window of opportunity called life, and smaller windows within that greater framework. I could feel a window closing. How many times would she keep asking, only to have me say, "Oh, I can't this time, because of blah, blah...."? This woman is a damn force of nature, and she's showing interest in me? I'm a 40+, middle-class, non-college educated, cult-raised, white guy! Yes, I'm very handsome, athletic, witty, charming, yes I write her poetry and songs, and bare my soul, but I have a lot of strikes against me! When will a moment like this ever come again???
So, you can see the predicament that faces me. Do I spurn the attention of this fabulous, younger woman? Do I sheepishly refuse, perhaps ignoring her text? Or, do I seize the chance for a night on the town with a beautiful woman? This was a decision every bit as serious, as taking the first step to TTATT.
I knew that my wife was at the movies with Dubs. I knew that all I had to do was create a "work emergency" to leave the house. I paused, I thought very deeply about my life, and my marriage. The final deciding factor, was the fact that my marriage sucks. It has for a decade at least. As cult children, we married young, after being baptized young. Then came a child. Then my awakening in the late 90's.
I had realized that all was not well in JW Land, or my marriage. Even so, I suffered as a stalwart supporter of "Da Troof." I believe the proper word for the JW mindset is "Endurism." Yes, it's a new age word and I don't subscribe to al that, but it's accurate. Dubs love to endure situations! Their suffering is what binds them together. Does your marriage suck, job suck, life suck, just endure!
I've grown tired of enduring. I've especially grown tired of a passionless relationship that exists, because Jeehoober gets all the action! If my Dub-wife put one quarter of the energy into our marriage, that she gives to Jeehippity-Hop and the Gibbering Buddies, things wouldn't be so bad. The fact that I am not #1 in her life, and I know it in my soul, made my final decision easy.
"When? Where? 😛", I text back, heart pounding.
"We are going to ******* for the night", she replies.
If you only knew where ****** was. ( shudder...) It is the party place of the city in which I live. No self-respecting Dub would ever go there around any holiday. To venture there on St. Patrick's day would be.....? Is there a word that describes the evil course that I am about to embark upon?
I begin my preparations. Clothes? Check. Cool, age appropriate shoes? Check. Hair? Check...
Let me explain a few things for those who aren't in their 40's. It's not so bad, not if you take care of your body. Younger women are getting tired of being treated like second-class citizens. These girls are tired of the stupidity of younger males. If you're approaching 40, do not despair! You have something to bring to the table....perspective.
Don't try to dress like you're 20. Be yourself, of course, but don't forget that for millions of years, females look for mature males. That doesn't always mean the youngest. Your age and experience are sexy to many, many, women. The majority of women who have expressed interest in me, are all 28-35 years of age. Not a bad situation to be in. They are smart, beautiful and educated. They don't want boys. They want a man. Go, be a man!!! ( back to the story...)
As I'm mussing my ever growing curls, the phone vibrates. I take breath. I've just been sent a selfie of my co-workers backless dress, exposing her exquisite tattoo. Now, my heart is really racing! Forget the "obstinate Zebra" of the Old Tesstament, I'm a raging, freaking Unicorn at this point!
I ponder all of the possible reasons as to why she would send me that picture? As born-in Dub, I'm still a bit naive. It dawns on me that she wants me to see how good she looks! As a Dub, who's wife never dresses up, except for dumb-ass theocratic events, and never wears lingerie, or acts sexy in any way, this is mind-blowing!!! What should I do? What does a man do??
"You look stunning.", I reply, before finishing my hair and heading to the car.
I drive to ****** and it's packed with people! Fortune favors the brave, and I find a parking spot. I'm on time. The rest of the crew are not, but I don't mind. D-Dog is off the leash! I'm soaking up the energy, hanging out, being appraised by the ladies, and some men. But again, I don't mind! The weather is perfect, people are everywhere, life is everywhere! I'm ready for whatever may come!
Soon, I get a text, "My Uber just dropped my off at the corner of *****. Where are you?"
I'm there in a flash. We embrace. Then I ask if she would like to get some drinks? Well, of course she did! We spent an hour or so bar-hopping until the rest of the gang arrived. I was a bit saddened, because to be honest, I wanted to be with her and no one else. If you could only see her.....
Everyone looks when she walks in. Men and women alike. They can't help it. She has a precense about her that is just amazing. She's not a stereotypical beauty, but a bombshell. She's sweet, kind, fun, alive! Her eyes are hypnotic, her laugh is literally like a song. Just hearing her talk at work will lift me from the most foul JW bout of depression. She inspires me to write. She makes me want to be more than I am. She believes in me.
Is her Siren's call luring me to my death? I don't care. I'm going to die anyway, so I'm going to enjoy the trip.
I'll be back. I have to get some food...
DD