Skiing shmiing

I smiled at the skier next to me. I could feel the sunburn on my face. My nose peeled this morning, in the mirror from yesterday's sun.

I was on the bunny hill, of course. Half of the 12 ounces of Zambuka went down my throat this morning. I needed it to get the nerve to ski with my two friends. I wondered why I came with them? Both of them being excellent skiers. Now I was skiing by myself, half drunk by 10:00 a.m. "Nice one" I thought to myself.

My drinking had become more frequent now that I was with Josh. I even considered going to a counselor. Josh assures me everyday that I'm just having fun. Yes, I have fun with him, but it always ends up with us being drunk at the end of the night.

I skidded into the bottom of the hill. Slid, and fell down like a pro bunny hill skier.

I wondered how the black diamond skiing was for my boyfriend and his buddy. I wish I never came with them. I imagined me going down a steep hill, powder snow flying beside me. The three of us looking like pros side by side, down the snowy mountain. This was three days ago. The reality is that I hadn't seen either one of them, yesterday or today all day. I was vacationing by myself. I also came to the painful realization, that I can't ski worth a darn. I was glad that they weren't there to see me to ski down the powderless icy hill.

I was tired of this effort to be the athlete I always imagined I would be. It just wasn't happening today, or probably anyday soon. So, I decided to go to the chalet and have another drink. I decided that, if I was going to drink by myself , I better stick to Bloody Marys. I ordered a double in a tall glass. I was sitting there contemplating whether I was an alcoholic or not when Josh and Pete walked in. They both looked nice and tanned, smiling at my red sunburned face. Josh beseeching my face, to know how my ski skills were getting. I was so glad that they went go the professional skiiers hill. It was embarrassing, that I skiied like a six year old just learning. I wondered if the six ounces of zambuka I drank this morning was really the cause of my inability to get off the baby hill. I made a note to see if the sober me, could ski better tomorrow.

Josh looked at my drink and ordered the same thing, his cute face looked good today. The white pastey look the cold winter gave, turned into a nice gold color on his face. He always looked at me like he was just looking at me for the first time, almost like he was searching for some sign. I actually felt like he could read my mind sometimes. Maybe I have an expresive face. He's not the only person who's ever looked at me like that. I really believed I was in love this time, but our relationship was new. Everyone knows, that early in couples romances, that it's always great at first. I explained to him that I wouldn't be skiing tomorrow. The last two days being enough for me. I assured him I wouldn't be upset if they both went. There was only two stores on this chalet, and I wondered what I would do with my next day on the hill.

Our little cabin had only one bed, and a pull out couch. When we got there I opened a bud light, not wanting to drink hard stuff, for fear that I would be drunk again for the second time today. When my head hit the pillow I was asleep instantly.

I woke up to Josh razzing me about passing out on him the night before. When I reminded him I wasn't going to ski today, he looked sad, like I was not having fun. Then he asked if I would mind waiting for him to get back before having a drink. I said yes, then wondered to myself again, if I was an alcoholic. Did he think I was going to be wasted by the time he got home? Then I remembered yesterday. No food and lots of booze. My red face, all of a sudden, not only burning from outdoors but from his comment. It was him that bought the wine, beer, and had a stocked bar at his house. Now that I thought about it he never drank before six. Were there people who actually had fun without drinks? I said this to myself in sarcasm.

After showering I went out in the cold with my hair wet. I loved the way your hair would turn into icicles, on the bitter cold. A lifetime of riding the bus, after swimming lessons in the winter gave me this strange pleasure. No one was around, and the beer and wine store next to the one clothing store beckoned to me. I held out until 5: 30 when my Josh and his friend came back in. I was happy to crack the seal and cork on our bottle of red wine. I decided that the steak and prawns I was making for dinner, were much more important to both of them, than the wine. Me, I had half the bottle drank before the meal was ready. I did a great job with my cooking, all of it was eaten. A good sign that it was relatively servable. The compliments never came, the wine gone. I decided I would remind them how long it took to make. Noone answered. Instead they both made an effort to clean up the red wine spilled from my glass, on the table. Neither one thought it was as funny as I did, as I caught the rolling Glass before it hit the floor, in mid air.

That night I decided I was going to break up with " my Josh". For some reason I felt like he was looking at me as his party girl. Maybe he had another daytime girl he liked better? When I asked he wouldn't answer and said I was starting things that weren't there.

I arrived at home the next day and decided that I would stay single, without Josh. He was a little surprised about the break up, but didnt look half as sad as I had originally wanted him to the day before. I almost believed that he wouldn't accept it. He wouldn't talk to me all the way home. Pete didnt say one word to either one of us. I guess I ruined our party.

Now that he was gone I could ...what? Drink alone. I decided I would write a sappy love poem, and wallow. Why did I enjoy this weird type of negative emotion? When the poem, that started out with the line," you are gone, I'm sitting here all alone, won't ever again pick up the phone, and have you say hi", was half written I was tipsy again. I threw it in the garbage and scolded myself for breaking up with him. Why didn't I just wait and see, if the next six months with him were good or not. Before I broke up with him. It was like I indulged myself in sadness, on purpose. Like everyother breakup I ever had, I wished I wasn't alone again. I must be missing something, in my integral makeup of my mind that enabled me to be sorrowful about something I created myself.

The morning sun shone into my apartment bedroom window and I felt hung over again. I decided that I would see if I enjoyed my misery as much when I was sober. I never drank that day, or the next. The next, Josh called. He wants to be together. I don't want to be alone, I've decided that in the last few days I need him We are back together. Things are great. I haven't had a pity party since my single three days. I feel great. Josh looks great to me now. I think maybe we will celebrate our togetherness tonight. I already have the bottle of Tanqueray gin we can celebrate with. He's bringing dinner. Im looking forward to the night. Also I am enjoying being happy in love. No more hurting my brain.