I Did Like Portland. I Just Liked Being Sick Better.

Sad, right? I mean, I loved seeing Janice. Loved seeing her life. Her kids. Trying an Oregon Pinot Noir. Trying to find my way to the Pearl District. Having dinner alone at Jake's Restaurant. During which some poor waiter lost a customer's credit card so I got to view the entire wait staff and all of the restaurant's management attempt to find it in every trash bin and crevice near the wait station. Finally, success. And about the same time, show over,I was ready to go back to the hotel and rest up, but then I got invited to join three other people who were sitting at a nearby table for a glass of wine. One of whom it turned out I would be training the next day at a BBW... and what are the odds of that...? Well, Priscilla and I bonded. She was quite cool. And just as cagey about her occupation and where her life was at as I was. Which was actually quite refreshing. To not have someone look at you confused but rather completely understand.

After the glass of wine and some conversation, the African American lawyer who was with Priscilla and her boyfriend invited me to go with him to an R&B club featuring Danity Kane (who...? I wondered. Yes, I'm old). The old part or even not knowing wasn't bad. Just weird. And it got weirder when the very hip and successful African American lawyer kept reminding me of just how hip and successful he was. Then started to act angry which kind of detracted from that whole bragging about his success thing. Which wasn't half as bad as him starting in on how I hid my body under my clothes. Which isn't really true. I just wear clothes. I'm not naked girl. I'm a 38 year-old woman who thinks proper attire is well, proper. But the AAL (as I'll refer to him from here on out) wouldn't let it go. Even though he was wearing a suit. So I flashed him my stomach. Flashed, mind you. Just to show that no, I'm not fat. And no, I'm not hiding anything. And yes, he should shut up. Well, then he suddenly wanted to dance. And wanted me to show off other body parts. Like my ass. He wanted me to do that whole black shake your ass into your partner's crotch thing. Which is after my time. So much so that I don't even know what it's called and got confused when he asked me if I could do it. And then even more confused when he got mad that I couldn't or rather wouldn't. But to be honest, I think it's kind of tacky. And not really something I should be doing at 38 years-old. Well. Me not doing it? It made him angry. Angry. Angry. Angry. Which was not so pleasant. So I said that I was going to go and thought it would be for the best. So he asked for my Danity Kane pass and $20-- for my glass of wine at the restaurant. Which was not $20. And which I didn't really want or need. But that was not the point. Getting away from him was-- so I handed over the pass and the $20 and skedaddled to the exit. Where another African American man was watching the door. He was hot and kind and I started to talking to him until the AAL walked up, upset to see me talking to someone else... You still following? Drama. That's all I'm saying. And me. Out past my bedtime. And for what? Argh.

The next day, Priscilla told me that he did that alot, this AAL. Started fights with people when he started drinking. Got angry at them. So that's why she and her boyfriend stuck to just having dinner with him. And also why she didn't want to set AAL up with any of her friends. Because he had issues. Lots and lots of issues. Which might have been helpful information to have pre-club. But live and learn. There are angry people in every city. I get it. I just would rather not experience it if possible. La Quintas and Ramada Inns are bad enough. A girl can only take so much.



That all being said, Portland came and went in a blur. I did like the Pearl District-- when I finally found it. The lofts were cool. And the stores. And restaurants. And the fact it's not that expensive and kind of artsy is a bonus. But then the whole out-of-pocket thing for Boscia entered into it which started to skew the experience. And then there's the fact I feel a little over the traveling. Even though it's been fun at times... a lot of times. Even this last time. It's just the getting home part. When I realize I'm out of pocket more than I'm in pocket. That I have to cancel appointments and can't pay my bills when technically I should be able to, I'm just paying someone else's with my money. And then I think about how I'm alone when I want to be together. With someone. And just how much I want to make my life happen and can't believe that it's not. And how being upbeat and positive can be easier some times than others. how sometimes it just seems so hard to see that it all works out.