It's the Thought That Counts

So, guess who tried to go out and do something to get her numbers up today? This girl.

Key word in that sentence being tried.

I was on the freeway driving home from work, and all of a sudden I went "Hey, it's Friday! That place has a wine sampling gig on Friday!" Deciding that I was passible enough to go and possibly meet people, I moseyed my way there. Traffic was enough to drive me batty, but that's what I get for improving at 5:30. If I had planned this, I would have taken a better way. This is where we say "If wishes were horses, we'd all be knee deep in crap."

After tucking stray whispies back into my braids and pulling out pretty ones in my rear view, I took a deep breath and got out of the car. It was strange, realizing how long it had been since I'd done anything like this. I thought I might be way out of practice, but really, what is there to practice? I either rock the small talk or I don't, and I either get up the balls to talk to someone or I don't. There isn't really a whole lot of middle ground.

Turns out it was a bust. Like, there was no one there. It was hardly a proper wine sampling at all. I've been to enough now to know what they are and what they aren't, and this was definitely an aren't. They had two wines out, and they were in little itty bitty shot glass like things. Maybe a half of a sip, if that. So, um, yeah. Awesome.

This store does carry  my favorite wine of all time, and I was tempted to get it. This is the first weekend in nine that I don't have to work at all (at. freaking. all.), and I thought it might be nice to have some. Then I was going to get some really good salad that I crave (which says a lot... I don't do salads) and have a nice little dinner.

Then I saw... it. (name that movie!) A massage station. A choice had to be made. It was either fermented grapes and ruffage or a skillful stranger touching me. I made that choice in about a nanosecond- I had leftovers in the fridge.  Even better, the massage station had a discount going on. Score.

Let's just say that I about melted into that chair.  This skillful stranger worked on my neck for a good fifteen minutes and it was amazing. By the end I had what could only be described as braided sex hair, and I was okay with that.

Long story short? I didn't meet a guy, but damn it, my shoulders aren't around my ears anymore.

It's a trade-off I'm willing to endure.