So, I’ve finally embraced my inner juvenile delinquent.
I snuck beer into the movies.
Mr. eHarmony and I went to see Superbad on Friday night. It was us and 200 19-year-old kids. I had two bottles of really, really nice beer wrapped in dishtowels in my purse. We even remembered the bottle opener. It was great – although it probably would have been more fitting if it had been Hamm’s or Schlitz or another beer of the people.
And, you can’t tell me we were the only folks there with illicit beverages. Towards the end of the movie – which is, by the way, superfantastic – some of the guys in back started yelling at the screen. Because movies tend to be interactive like that when you’re drunk.
So, that was great fun and a bit liberating. Which brings me to the other bit o’ liberation of the weekend.
No, I didn’t go braless. I came to a scary realization.
I’m a pretty darn positive person, but I tend to be guarded about myself. Ask me how I am? I respond “Ok.” Ask a more pressing question? I give a short answer that will suffice and then ask a question about you. It’s a defensive mechanism. I don’t want to open myself up for scrutiny and hurt. This is totally messed up logic, but it’s honest.
I need to give up my inner Debbie Downer – that teensy voice in my head that’s just positive that this good thing isn’t going to last, that at work, they will figure out in short order that I’m a total poseur, that Mr. eHarmony will tire of me in mere days, that the glue that’s holding together my precious reality isn’t waterproof after all and will soon disintegrate into a wet, gloppy mess.
I need to give it up.
Nothing is as terrifying as allowing yourself to be truly happy. Nothing is as daunting as getting everything you ever dreamed of.
Drinking beer at the movies is probably a pretty good start.