Getting the F Out of Dodge

I guess you could say I take annual vacations.  I take the week of Christmas to go visit the mom and the siblings in Oregon since that's a good excuse to go see them.  I take my occasional long weekend in the summers.  Outside of my two international trips in 2010 and 2011, I generally don't spend more than a few days away from the homestead between June and August.  As luck would have it, this year my little brother is all grow'ds up and he's graduating from college next week (gasp), so it allows me to have a little family vacation.  Indeed, that is certainly a rare thing nowadays. 

 Not just the vacation part.  The family part.  Dad and Mom together under one roof.  It will be nothing short of interesting.  I can guarantee you that.  It would be interesting without a set of divorced parents.  The split just adds an element.

Look, the point is this.  It's nice to be able to get away for an extended period of time once in a while.  I value my long weekends.  A full week is a different kind of animal, though.  You can be fully submerged in a state of don't-give-a-shit.  Forget everything for a while.  Unplug.  It's nice.  Regular life gets stale, stagnant, maybe boring, usually annoying, and a bunch of other adjectives.  Sometimes you gotta get the fuck outta Dodge, bro.

It's probably the best time for me too.  Considering I have gone 0 for my last 4 on dates and/or numbers, this appears to be a much needed escape.  I don't have to constantly remind myself of my dating futility.  I won't have too much time to wonder what went wrong.  Perhaps the most stress-free aspect of the trip will be that I don't have to be "on" all the time.  I don't have to try so hard to impress someone.  Let's be honest.  If the situation presents itself, I'm going try and turn the A game on and try make something happen.  (Bear in mind "A game" is only as good as the player.  I'm not saying my "A game" is bad, I'm just saying it's not great). This will be a good opportunity to clear the ol' head and let the losses just roll off my shoulders, like an ace pitcher with a bad outing.  Take a load off, put it behind you, and move on.  I'll be with the family.  It'll be good.

Well, family may be the WILDCARD here.  What's the over/under on number of times I get asked "Are you seeing anyone?"  I'm not sure, but there will certainly be a conversation even if I try and avoid it.  At 30 and single, people start to wonder.  They feel they have to ask their questions.  Grandmothers are not getting any younger.  Mothers worry that hope for grandchildren may have sailed up shit's creek.  Family members wonder if you're depressed.  They try and remain sensitive to my privacy, but these bitches want to know.  They want the deets, man.  I'm hoping I can keep them at bay.  Lord knows I will have had too much to drink one night (read: most nights), and they will begin peppering me like a goalie during hockey practice.  They know how to open the vault.

Ideally, such conversations will be the exception and not the rule.  Maybe my terse, one-word answers will satiate them.  It's just difficult to keep my personal life under wraps when half a dozen of your mom's cougar friends fawn all over you and want to know if you're breaking any hearts.  The answer is a resounding no.  At least I can say it's not for lack of trying.  It's for lack of something, but certainly not for trying.  Despite the likelihood of encountering a smattering of love life questions, I still am looking forward to leaving D.C. for a while.  It's not working right now.  Some time away could be good.  Who knows, maybe I'll fall in love and get married out there in the course of a week.  Some sort of Bachelor type shit where we both truly "feel" something in a short amount of time.  

Frankly, that has as a good a chance of happening as me getting an east coast female to respond to a text or a phone call.  It would be some kind of way to answer all of those played-out dating questions.