Was it the cold moonlight soccer practice that ended up with me getting more exercise in one hour than I've had since the last soccer practice of the fall season? Is it the combination of beer and cigarettes and perhaps some other smoked substance drug addling me good? Is it the complete sitting here alone with no noise but the dog rolling and huffing in the floor?
Something is working to make me slightly less maudlin and depressed than I've been lately. It would be nice if this were more than a one night thing, but recently, that premise is highly doubtful.
We spent this past weekend in Nashville, or more honestly, we spent most of it in Clarksville, about forty five minutes northish of Nashville. We were in middle TN for roller derby.
I'm sure everyone has missed the roller derby talk. This bout was the season opener for HKRG, so expect me to at least have that to post about eventually. Our team won, tearing each point from their scrabbling hands. It was one of the most amazing bouts I've seen, though had Momma been skating it would likely have been a slightly easier win. Though she wasn't not skating for a bad reason, that's it's own story for some other time.
In that purest if cheesiest of sports moments, the bout was won in the final jam. Nashville was up thirty points as the first period ended. By the end of the second period, our side had whittled that lead down to nothing. Knoxville took the win in the final jam with a final score of seventy eight to seventy seven. It was freakin' sweet.
The annoying twist from the weekend involves me realizing that I have an extremely stupid crush on someone I've seen three times in the last year and a half, someone I've seen across a rink more times than I've spoken to him. I may have said "hi" and/or introduced myself once. It has been roller derby related each time. I can't say I actually know him, and I live at least three hours away.
It's stupid. It makes no sense.
The first meeting was in my town and was most certainly in my bury/ignore being gay days. I noticed him and liked what I saw, but I wasn't in a place where I was going to do anything about it. You could say I got a little stuck on him, though I didn't really realize it at the time. The next time I saw him was in his town. I'm pretty sure I didn't actually talk to him, but I did see him, and I remembered the first time and was still stuck. This would have been between learning of Momma's infidelity but before my own acceptance of me, a really weird time. I saw him again recently, somewhat after having come out and accepted that I do like the fellows, and for some reason I got really stuck, completely based on seeing him in the crowd a few times. It was a classic moment filled with instances of "did he look at me or catch me looking at him?"
It's stupid. There's no sense in it. It's irritating the living shit out of me, like I've once more found a helluva way to go right back to sixteen years old. Damn! and sigh . . .