No, I'm not expecting anyone else...

My wife and the kids are all gone this weekend pursuing different pursuits, so I'm going to be left to my own devices starting around noon today until some time on Sunday.

You can only eat, drink, and jerk off so much before nausea, chafing, and and felony arrest start rearing their ugly heads, so I'm looking to accomplish something this weekend that I can feel good about telling others and still be as ruthlessly hedonistic as possible.

My wife actually encouraged me to have some of "the guys" over Friday night and play cards/pool, drink, and watch movies with explosions. That sounded OK at first, but it's just one night, and since we're all old married guys it would be as dull as it sounds. Either that or we'd end up like they did in Very Bad Things. Neither outcome seems appealing and both require a lot of clean-up.

As you can see I'm already deep into a fit of ennui without this extended weekend even kicking off yet. Part of me wants to flex my maker-of-things-and-user-of-tools muscles, which is fun if you have something you need/want to build, but I'm drawing a blank project-wise.

My wife started firing out ideas that appeal to her, but suggestions like "get a massage" have entirely different connotations for us, causing an annoyed "not that kind of massage" response. I won't be getting a pedicure either.

I've reached an age and relationship point where friends are issued in couples and it's either third-wheel time or an uncomfortable outing spent with the weird husband of one of my wife's friends on some sort of grown-up playdate. My old friends from my single days of over a decade ago seem to either be dead, showing off their sobriety chips, or not looking to violate parole.

Volunteering is out, mostly because I already do a shitload of pro bono financial counseling for families living paycheck to paycheck every week. Don't get me started on the culture of living beyond one's means. So, by extension that eliminates a weekend of binge shopping.

A Roadtrip is an option. Top down, sunglasses on, drive to to somewhere quaint and soak in the bucolic charm, perhaps be the mysterious wandering samurai that helps bring a fractured community back together for a common purpose. Which in reality would be adventures in rural xenophobia followed up by an 1,100 calorie burger from the local Dairy Queen while being stared down by old men in gimme caps.

Still, I live in a city of four million people, with an rather brown ocean less than an hour from where I live. I should be able to find something to do, but I probably won't. All that table-for-one, admission-for-one, "will someone be joining you?" immediately followed by the rather punitive removal of the other place settings, and all of the other facets of the solo experience is ultimately quite depressing. People used to feel sorry for table-for-one guy, these days they're creeped out by him and worried about random gunfire.

Most likely my freedom will be a solitary weekend frittered away driving aimlessly, websurfing, playing video games, and marathoning the last two seasons of Breaking Bad. Silver lining? Sobriety. I rarely drink when I'm by myself.

"I'll have another green tea with lemon. No, I'm not expecting anyone else..."