Bill played 4 years of college baseball. That's 4 years of wild debauchery. Instead of sex, drugs, and rock and roll it was more like sex, beer, and baseball. Not necessarily in that order either. But one of the most foul (ha ha, pun!), yet provocative players during these years were what Bill referred to as "Good Time Girls." These were any handful of girls who, like their name suggests, just wanted to have a good time. Now let it be known that during this time I was a good, solid, responsible girl. Sure I had my wild times but generally I was a Good Girl. Definitely not a Good Time Girl. Looking back I think I was a little envious of these girls' ability to throw out a mindset like my own and just concentrate on having a good ole time.
Then I got married and had babies. And then I had more babies. And I stayed at home and was a really bad ass housewife and mom. Bill worked hard, really hard, and this carefully constructed life worked for us for many years. I felt loved and safe and respected. I was still a good, responsible girl. I took care of everyone and everything. I did this for lots of years.
And then Bill died. That changed everything of course.
A good friend and I were talking the other day about how our dreams and priorities have changed as we've gotten older. Like what we did for fun as a 25 year old vs. what we do for fun now. Or what we would look for in a husband at 25 vs. 35 vs. today. We talked about how our taste in friends had even changed over the years. Maybe how we'd outgrown some but found new, better fitted ones, for our current place. Everything changes and evolves. Nothings stays the same. If you actually take the time to think about this and ponder it you might be surprised at what you figure out.
It was a good talk anyway. One that got me thinking.
How had my priorities changed? What did I like now? What did I like to spend my time doing? Who did I want to spend my time with? And the answer I came up with? I want to be a Good Time Girl! Well, not exactly like one of those girls from 20 years ago, but my updated version of one. My liver can't take the constant abuse of all those parties and I need my precious hours of sleep. I also am not a good whore, but that's a story for another day.
What I mean is I want to concentrate on having fun. Fun is my priority.
OK, OK, settle down. I never said that I was going to abandon my kids and run off or anything. Everyone in my household will be properly cared for. The responsibility thing runs deep in me. Too deep maybe. What I'm saying, though, is I don't think I need that safe and steady thing anymore, or at least not in the way that I needed it when I was younger. When I was younger I wanted stability and consistency. I didn't want Good Times--I wanted Safe Times. Little personal risk. Some other person to hold me up and maybe shoulder some of my responsibilities. I wanted a responsibility sharer, if that's even a thing. Someone who shared paying bills, raising kids, keeping a home running, standing by me while I grew up. I think I'm explaining it mostly right.
But since Bill left, I have figured out that I am kind of a bad ass by myself. A lot of the things I didn't think I could do were actually just things I didn't want to do. Big difference. And a lot of the things I thought I had to do I learned that I didn't actually have to do. I'm finding that fluidity and flexibility and yielding to change are all necessary to my survival. And my happiness.
So I'm going to embrace the idea, or at least my idea, of becoming a Good Time Girl. I'm not quite sure what that means yet but I think it probably will include some late nights, lots of laughing until my stomach hurts and beer comes out my nose, excellent talks with fun people, and probably a few painful mistakes along the way.
Funny thing about pain......I don't know that I even feel it acutely anymore, it's become such a constant for me. Not sure if that's good or bad. But I do know that I'm going to try to suppress my Good Girl mindset for now and fully embrace the Good Time Girl methodology. Whatever that may be.
No comments:
Post a Comment