Drunken Ghosting

I penned a post about doing the Drunken Disappearing Act a month ago; I was the designated driver a lot during the holidays and it reminded me of how I used to get to a point in the evening where something would click and  I’d think, “If I don’t get out of here now I’ll fall or pick a fight or go to sleep with my head in a stranger’s lap.’  So I’d just leave by a back door.

I have left dates sitting at tables in fancy restaurants, friends in movie theaters and many a family gathering before dinner was served. “Did anyone see Marilyn?” “What happened to you last night?” And the ever popular text: WHERE ARE U??????? While I slept it off and woke to a blank hole where my lasting memories were supposed to be.

When I published the Disappearing Act post, someone wrote in and told me it was called “Ghosting” and of course I’ve been thinking about that ever since, what with the name of this blog and all. When I looked it up, most of the articles and the Urban Dictionary say that “ghosting” is a term related to dating. As in not calling someone after a series of dates, when one person thought it went great and expected the relationship to continue.

As I think about it, it really stems from the same selfish, lack of regard.

It’s been a few years, and I actually don’t remember not being there (how’s that for a double negative?), but I apparently ghosted the Grand Opening of Spiller Vincenty Gallery. It’s not that I left. I just didn’t show at all. Kim tells me that while she and scores of artists, curators and hangers (and hangers-on) toiled diligently to mount an enormous exhibit (our ladders were twenty feet high on rollers), I was nowhere to be found. Can you imagine that? I can’t, and it was me.

To the best of my recollection, I was at the hotel cattycorner from the gallery drinking. It’s embarrassing to me now, to think about that, but I’ve changed. I’ve changed for the better and even when I don’t want to be somewhere doing the heavy lifting (or with someone who thinks we have a connection) I man up. Sobriety is, on top of everything else, about manning up.

And hard as it is sometimes, I’m just not going to leave anybody looking around and wondering, “Where’s Mare?”