We Finally Went to Dinner--and HE was there

Well, we went to Mom and Dad's for cake, then sat around for an hour talking. I badgered them about paying half for the washer-dryer set. I wanted to do something nice for them. In the past, it's come down to hiding $5 somewhere in the house.

We've lived here 3 years and have yet to have them for dinner. We've had Shawn's mother and his oldest brother, even. Mom and Dad hate driving the half hour here because they both make that trip every day and back again for work. Ok, I understand that. So I thought about getting them a gift card to a restaurant, as a way to say Thank You (and a sneaky way to pay them back a little). But I was afraid that it might sit in a wallet until it was 9 years old and expired. So what to do?

Shawn and I finally went to my birthday dinner. We chose the Texas Roadhouse just for simple fact that we've never been. We're old fashioned and where ever we go, we order chicken fried steak. We're afraid of change.

For the record, it wasn't that great. It was ok. I've been spoiled on Mom's steak and mashed potatoes and homemade gravy. I have yet to discover a place that serves anything remotely similar.

We were seated in a booth in the bar area. I noticed the bartender peering over a computer screen. He seemed somewhat familiar. I waited until he was out from behind the computer.

"OH [S-Word]!!!" I hissed at Shawn. I knew it. I knew it was him. I was just hoping it wasn't. Out of all the seats in this place, why did that woman have to seat us here?

It was Chris-Something. I forget. He and his friend, Eric made my high school life a living hell. They tortured me and teased me. I got into fights with them. They would turn whole groups of their friends against me.

I've dreamed of this day. Literally, I have dreamed of the things I would say. I have pictured myself at a reunion with all my wealth and success from my (ha ha) book deal. I fantasied about the things I would remind him of, of how much better I am than him.

But I couldn't do that now. The Bible says to love our neighbors. It doesn't say it's ok to dislike someone. It says to love.

Easier said than done.

"I can throw one of those glass ashtrays at his face," Shawn offered. The whole time we ate I was in a small panic. How I wanted to remind him of how rotten he was to me! How I hated him for it! How miserable he made me! And that he was a lowly bartender (who probably makes more in tips than I in my entire paycheck) and that I was in charge of the dry cleaning at an established business. That me and my husband ran a small eBay business from our home. That we'd bought a home! And a car! And--

No. That's not me anymore. That's the old me. I thought about going over to him and just talking. Say Hi, How ya been, and that would be it. I was afraid the old me would flare up in a heart beat and I'd eventually be arrested before it was all over.

"I think on our way out, I'll just smile and wave," I told Shawn. He asked me if I'd like him to order a drink and "accidentally" spill it all over the poor guy. No. That wouldn't be cool at all. We paid our bill and I never looked at him. I never once made eye contact the whole time we were there. On the way home Shawn said I could call the restaurant and explain "how rude" the bartender was to me.

He knows I'd never do such a thing. He's been bragging all over work and the neighborhood that his wife is a Sunday School teacher. He knows I couldn't do anything nasty.

Still, it's hard to imagine that after 8 years, just seeing this guy could wreck me in such a way. To imagine that I was once that foolish little girl that could never seem to escape his torment...

It saddens me, really.

I am sorry this post has not turned out to be my normal style. It's my therapy today. If I don't say these things here, I'll go back to the restaurant and say them to his face. And I certainly do not want to be arrested. And also, for the record, yeah I do curse a little. It's usually out of great stress or pain, though. Nothing against sailors or anything, but I used to curse like one, let me tell you. But, on May 3rd 2004, that all changed.

This was my birthday dinner! How could he be there? How could I anguish over such childish things? I was my birthday dinner!!

Rudyard Kipling wrote poem that goes: (I am paraphrasing here for all you poetry nuts)

When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I acted as a child.
When I became a man, I put away all childish things.

I suppose it's time for me to put away childish grudges and be a "man" about it.
Easier said than done.