I went into the weekend a little hesitant. Our team had never played together before, and I wasn't sure how we would do. I wondered, too, how playing for the first time myself would affect things. Would leaving parties early to get some sleep make the weekend less fun? Would it strip the tournament of its semi-annual magic?
In the end, the fun could not be kept at bay, and my hesitations regarding play were wholly unfounded. Our team (Mid City Funk) went undefeated in pool play on Saturday, winning by an average of 8 or 9 points each game in games that only went to 15. Where we faltered in pick up on Friday afternoon, we dominated and communicated well on Saturday morning. We moved, we talked, we won. If I'd had any doubts about playing at FUDS before, they were long forgotten in the pleasure of victory.
The parties were tamer than they'd been in the past, though. I counted my drinks. I watched the time. I over-thought it; the freedom of the dance floor was diminished by the anticipation of hang-overs and sleep-deprived sluggishness. I did continue my make-out streak (3 times running!), but even that rang a little false.
Guy: Hey, I'm M---.
Me: Nice to meet you, M---. I'm Rebekah.
[dance break]
Me: Where are you from?
Guy: From Atlanta. What about you?
Me: From New Orleans.
[dance break]
Guy: You're adorable.
Me: Thank you.
[dance break]
Guy: You should live in Atlanta.
Me: Umm...
Later, I vented to friends. "Why on Earth could he not have been a stereotypical, non-committal man the one time when I really just wanted to make-out and move on?" He wasn't even that great of a kisser. He was tall, though. And had decent rhythm. And lips. It was not a total loss.
I saw him the next morning at the captain's meeting, where the tournament officially cancelled playoffs due to inclement weather. The depression of missing out on an opportunity to win it all was momentarily overshadowed by a need to hide. "If we're walking, and I suddenly go a different direction, it's because I'm avoiding someone," I told a friend. "Got it," he said. But in the end, I had to walk right past M---, and he caught me. "How are you feeling this morning?" he asked. "Good," I said with an insincere half-smile and continued past him. He watched me walk away.
I promise that I am not a terrible human being or an enormous bitch to men. Normally, I would love for a guy to pursue me. But FUDs is like Vegas. It is an unreal world where anything is possible, and the only thing that follows you back is friendship and debt. Plus, suggesting that I live in his city ten minutes after meeting me was weird. He was weird. I probably should've made out with someone else.
Despite the clingy dance partner and the rain, I had an incredible time. I lost valiantly in Settlers of Catan, ran across a bridge barefoot at midnight, gawked at a penthouse, made friends with a bartender, and drank and laughed and played and soaked in sun when there was sun. I danced, I ate, I saw friends. I was, in short, supremely happy to be back in the place that brought together three of my favorite things: volleyball, dancing, and friends.
Returning to New Orleans yesterday meant readjusting to real life. I took off today to give me a larger adjustment period, which turned out to be a wise choice. I needed it. I needed to drink tea and eat snacks and watch a few episodes of a show on Netflix while I did a load of laundry last night. I needed to get some errands done and lounge around today.
Returning to New Orleans also meant acknowledging my place as a single person again. Am I unhappy to out of the last relationship? Not in the least; I am quite pleased for that to be over and done with. Am I unhappy to be single? Well, jury's still out. I'm not unhappy; it's just more fun to have a dedicated someone to talk to.
In the spirit of getting back on the horse, I re-downloaded Tinder this past weekend (which I had deleted from my phone a while back), and began to play the left-swipe/right-swipe game again yesterday. It is decidedly less fun this time around, though. Last time, I had all kinds of interesting conversations with guys in the area. It only led to a few dates, but that wasn't really the point of joining. In my mind, Tinder's main purpose is entertainment. Since re-downloading, I'm significantly less entertained than I'd hoped. There is less conversation. There are less people. I am less inclined to bother with it. Which is pretty disappointing.
On the flip side, summer is approaching fast, and I am in the middle of planning my two months off. I'm headed to Charleston with one of my best friends from college at the end of May. I'm no doubt helping with my nieces, or my cousin's kids. I've got a training for a robotics program around the beginning of July. I might visit Denver and/or DC. I will not make the same mistake I did last year and settle with staying in New Orleans all summer. I will not put myself through that again.
Last summer, I worked maybe 5 hours a week at the Gap, and with nothing else to do than over-checking realtor.com and lazing around, I suffered a huge human-interaction withdrawal. No amount of Netflix, Facebook, or reading could make up for the sharp drop in time spent with other people. After about a month, I got fed up, quit my retail job, and drove up and down the East Coast, getting as far as Montreal and visiting as many people as I could along the way. If I ever doubted that I was an extrovert, last summer put that to rest. If I ever wondered how much I dislike driving by myself for thousands of miles, last summer made that aversion clear.
To avoid another last-minute, thousand-mile drive, I'm trying to plan regular activities ahead of time. I've sent emails to Habitat ReStore, Ronald McDonald House, Hands On, Tulane Medical Center, and other places that might have lots of people and something for me to do. I'm hoping a few of them email me back so that I have a choice, but just having something to do this summer with people will make me happy.
Volleyball will, of course, make a grand appearance this summer, too. I'm not exactly sure when, where, or what I'll play, but I want to train and get in as much practice time as I can. I might even work out a little. Either way, I'll keep inching toward that 10,000 hour mark Malcolm Gladwell likes to talk about. (Which, according to my calculations, at my current level of play, will take approximately 21 years for me to reach. In other words, I need to play more, and I should've started earlier.)
Part of the beauty of summer is the possibilities it affords: the freedom to see new places and to meet new people and to try new things. It can't get here fast enough.
Part of the beauty is that when it does, the next FUDS is only a few months away.
 |
| GO FUNK! |
No comments:
Post a Comment