the end of anonymity

I remember now...how it feels not to be anonymous. A weekend out of town and the only little "cafe" in Wetonka, South Dakota reminded me. I guess it's the fact that the bartender remembers what I drink (and that I drank a lot last time I was there), coupled with the fact that he calls me "Texas", that brought back the realization that perhaps it's time to think before I act, dance, buy shots of tequila and drink too much. I do, afterall, have a significant other and his family to think about.

On the other hand, they don't seem to mind, in fact, have been known to encourage a girl to "keep up with the big dogs." And while I tried...I'm still a pup when it comes to adult beverages. This is a good thing.

And so I am left wondering if I should care at all what people think - anonymous are not. The important question to ask is, "am I being real?" If I can say yes, then what the heck. I have earned the right to be myself, and when I'm in a bar, in Wetonka, South Dakota or any other place in the country, I like to play music loud, dance with the boys, drink a shot of tequila and, well, let my hair down. Very not "melissa-like" according to all the people with whom I have "kept up appearances." Truth is...it's very "melissa-like." The real one that is. And that's okay.