Post-Meetum Depression

A glorious meeting Saturday. Before it was over, my cheeks hurt from smiling.

I dressed on-site, getting a late departure from my house. It turned out that I had no competition for the LATTE (Leslie Ann Thomas Transformational Explorium), where I had thought that four or five others would be using it to change. Not the crowd we had hoped for, but a good bunch, close to twenty in attendance.

We were discussing the future direction of our group, throwing out ideas for presenters, talking about leadership questions. I even volunteered for an informal committee! Sophie Jean, of Freeing Hummingbirds, suggested implementing a phone support network, pairing people up who can talk things through when they get a little down or have a problem. After the business portion of the meeting, I sat down with Sophie, and we had a lovely chat for at least thirty minutes. She's quite charming and speaks just as eloquently as she writes.

Tina remembered that I had complained about my coloring after the March meeting, and made a point to say that my makeup technique is coming along well. She wondered what I had done differently this time, and other than setting aside the mineral foundation, I didn't have an answer. Now I do. I have read numerous places that one should play up one's eyes or mouth, but not both. Previously, I accented my eyes, partly because it is more creative and complex, partly because I thought they needed to be brought out. This time, I did very simple eye makeup, mostly just mascara and eyeliner, with some light shadow. My eyes are small and very deepset, and made even smaller behind my bifocals. My lips, on the other hand, are full and fairly feminine. So, in the future, the drama will be the lips.

Around 10:00, I had to march back into the LATTE and make myself passable as a guy. Sadly, all too easy for me. Said my sad goodbyes and went home. Mrs. Leslie offered to make me a drink. She made a mudslide for me, and a white Russian for herself. Now, I'm certain that Saturday is a "special" day for many couples, and we are no exception. However, we have never been intimate on one of my meeting nights. For the longest time, she would barely speak to me after a meeting. I had come to think that she didn't want my good feelings about Leslie time being associated with our coupling. Just keep those two positives very separate. This assumption on my part meant that I didn't see the alcohol as an invitation, which I now believe it was.

This is when my depression set in. Misreading her intentions, and likely disappointing her, left a bad taste. As Sunday when on, I became more despondent, about the chaos that reigns in our home, about children not listening, about the damn plumbing that has gone unfixed for months. It all became too much. I just wanted to lay down and have her hold me for a few minutes, but the day was such that I didn't even get to express how alone I felt. As she left for work, she called me Mr. Crabby, and asked if I'd like to go out to lunch Monday for my birthday. Caught off guard, I gave a tentative yes. She said that she will have a present for me. My mood got better eventually, and I report that it is past now.

I'm getting too old for this.