Friday, May 29, 2009

Why be mad when you can be angry. Really Angry!

Last Saturday night turned out nothing like I'd planned. I ended up disappointed, frustrated, mad and then Angry. I'm not really sure if there's any difference between mad and angry but for some reason "Angry" just sounds so....so....so much worse than mad. Mad is child's play when compared with angry. So let me tell my story and then maybe I can put it to rest, once and for all.

My Comadre called a week in advance to invite my husband and I out for a night of dancing. If you know anything about me, you probably know that I was a dancer some time back...okay, so it was eons ago....and I've never, ever gotten dancing out of my system. Don't believe I ever will. I was born to dance. Anyway, I checked with Juan Carlos to see if he was up for the evening and he agreed, it would be fun. Commitment made.

Half way through the week he gets a call...a reminder call; he has a gig Saturday night. Oh, oh. He breaks the news to me like a teenage girl telling her boyfriend she's pregnant. Fear in his eyes, trembling hands, shaky knees. He's committed one of the most unforgivable crimes - DO NOT BREAK DANCING DATE WITH WIFE! He's smart though; says "the gig starts at 6:30, it's a quinceaƱera and we'll be finished by 9:30 with plenty of time to meet the friends". I agree not to kill him and he suggests that if I accompany him to the gig, we'll be able to meet up with the friends earlier than if he drove all the way home to pick me up. I like it. He's thinking. He's planning. It'll be fun!

Saturday comes, we hop in the car, drive all the way to the valley; a good 45 minutes and arrive at the gig with time to spare. Then we wait. And wait. And wait. An hour and a half later, they do the first set. Okay, we're doing OK. Next set, it's 9 o'clock. Not so OK. It's late and I'm, what did I say? Disappointed. Set finishes and again, we wait. And wait. And wait. I'm now frustrated, border lining mad. It seems there was no contract for this event so there's no end time set for the band and from what I can tell, no one really cares. It's a quinceaƱera, for goodness sake.

Although most of the party have left, the band gets up to do the last set at approximately 11:30. A far cry from 9:30 end time. So you can imagine, I've gone from mad to plain out ANGRY. Controlled anger, yes. But that may just be the worst kind. The tough part is, it isn't my husbands fault. I really think he thought we'd be on our way, long before. But regardless of what he thought, we're stuck. I'm boiling over and there's not a darn thing I can do about it except go to the car and think mean, bad, terrible things. As if it would help. The time is gone, as is the opportunity to join up with our friends.

We drive home, mostly in silence, while my poor husband try's to make small talk and apologize for something that was out of his control. I know he feels bad but for some reason, it's not enough. I so wanted to meet with our friends and dance. And as we drive by the exit we should have take 3 hours earlier, he says "do you think they're still there, maybe we sh.....", "NO" It's all I could say. I attempt to hide my tears of disappointment but don't do a very good job of it. After all, I really haven't had the opportunity to go out with these friends. It's been almost 17 years since we last went out to dance with them. They all went and I missed out. I know there are worse things and I should count my blessings. I've heard all that and agree, but it doesn't mean it makes it feel any better. Maybe I just need to get over it.

So, I'm going with him to a gig tonight. Problem is, he plays, I watch. Ahhhh....so much for the dancing. Maybe its time to hang up the shoes.

1 comment:

Bunny Missbrenner said...

Isn't this what happens in the music world? So, set another date....your life is not over. Or maybe you can come over and dance with my grandsons. They're full of energy.


p.s. There is a difference between mad and angry. Angry leans towards disappointment and involves tears and silence. Mad is fast and fleeting....usually.