Taxi Cab Driver

The last few days whatever I have felt, I have felt with EXTREME emotions. I can always figure out some way to blame my hormones, but try to remind myself that it is probably a bit real too. Like tonight when I was kissing the boy goodbye in the freezing cold and feeling totally sad that it is not like the old days when you could sit on a porch swing until your mom and dad went to bed. But, of course not before telling you it was time to say goodnight. At least you got to make out beside their old car underneath the basketball goal on a hot summer Mississippi night. Quite different from tonight. Not a second later after my beau had kissed me goodnight and I had sat down in the warm cab ready to allow my blissful warm and lovey thoughts of the evening fill my brain until 2726 Connecticut did the hooded cabbie ask me, "Why he not coming home with you?" He then proceed to tell me that he was too young for me, and although I looked like I was 23, I needed someone at least around the age of 35. Most people would have ignored this guy, but not me. I found myself disclosing all of the reservations I have not allowed myself to speak out loud to this complete stranger who was taking the long way home in order to take more of my cash. Perhaps not, though. I mean, he did end our $6.50 therapy session by showing me a picture of his mom with his wife and two daughters. This was right before he called me sweetie and told me that I looked at MOST 23. "You are a pretty lady." OK. Time to go! I know I should feel appalled and disturbed that someone providing a service that I pay good money for would invade my personal life. Oh, what the hell! I'm not sure if it was the cabbie or my three whiskey cocktails I had at the secret speakeasy tonight, but I am sleepy and smiley and sleepy.