why I am at the dark end of the bar...

I think I need another drink.

I was concerned to some degree that I would be lacking material for a blog, as I find myself in what has to finally be the twilight of my sojourn though the Atlanta nightlife scene.

Five years ago I knew where a party was every night of the week, and not just clubbing but private events and house parties, wine tastings, shows etc, and so on. Maybe as recent as two years ago, but definitely five. I now trundle home happy to find my bed and a few hours of quiet most nights.

But then the life keeps calling me.

A young woman whom I was formerly interested in (let's just go ahead and start lettering them here, she'll be Girl A) called me last evening to weep over the phone. I have this annoying habit of actually liking people, and so I have lots of friends, but...even did you read the profile? You know where this is going.

Anyway, she's lamenting the loss of current beau, who called her out of the blue and simply dumped her. Or at least that's how she explained it at first. There was more, he was paranoid, jealous of petty things, checking her cell phone while he thought she slept, calling multiple times at day (it was a long distance thing) and finally after she had had a late night out he just called and broke it off. Then he called back and played dirty.

I spoke with her for two hours, calming, soothing, hypothesizing and agreeing. In the end she told me I had "fixed her". We started out with her nearly breaking down on the phone to her quietly and softly dozing off. I felt good for helping out someone I cared about, but a little uneasy at the conclusions I'd drawn from my assistance.

Who am I? As part of that conversation I came to the conclusion that my purpose is to help other people, which kinda sucks as a purpose because it means I'm secondary in my own life.

I'm glad she's feeling a bit better (her schedule is hell in a cell), but in helping her, my thoughts now run to who I am.

I think that's why I'm sitting down here...at the dark end of the bar.

Maker's Mark this time, and make it a double.