Am I being taken for a ride?

I'm writing this blog at an unusual time...in the morning on a Sunday. Not really great, but I have to get a few things off my chest.

First of all, I think because I'm seen by so many people as a "nice guy" (sorry, friends and neighbors, but there are times I'm not as nice as people would think) it often leads to me being taken advantage of.

Take this past weekend. Cowboy Jason and I just returned from an evening in Lake Tahoe, where one of Jason's friends was having a "girls' night out." Jason wanted to go. I wanted to help him get over his funk. We left later than usual, thanks to me, and rolled up to Lake Tahoe in the truck just after dark. Jason caught up with his old friend and talked and reminisced. That part is fine. What isn't fine is that a guy without a job or a car takes me for a ride. I care about Jason a lot, but this is getting a tad bit OLD. We go out, and next thing you know, my wallet is like a vacuum. And it's not like I'm buying something to eat, here. I'm buying drink after drink for the guy, and they're like $4.25 a bottle for the beer. My stinkin' Cokes are $2.25 for a plastic cup. What is this? Refreshments at the Plaza Hotel in New York?

(As an aside, I think a casino is just about the most un-Christlike place I could be. If the people I hung out with yesterday only knew where I really wanted to be...)

Yep, there was a giant sucking sound from my wallet. And when the night waned (we're like two and a half hours from where I live), we fell asleep in the truck in the Harrah's parking lot cause I told him my money was being shut off. But before that, I got pretty upset with Cowboy Jason. My buddy needs a job, and I need to stop wasting money that could go to my kids that instead is going to some brewery up in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. I am finished. No more going out with Jason. The guy needs to get a job and support himself. I need to help my kids.

I'm sure Heavenly Father isn't very pleased with me, either, and I'm not pleased with myself. I hated that scene, I tell you. It was not fun at all. It's not what I want either, not at all. By the end of the night, Jason was so sloshed, he was pissing all kinds of people off. I told him to cut it out. How do you communicate with a drunk? It's not easy, and most of all, it's not worth it.

And you know what? The scene at 2 a.m. at Harrah's Lake Tahoe was the same as it is here in Grass Valley...except there's no last call. Same stupid scenarios, same stupid games, same superficial individuals. I must be out of my gourd to be a part of that. But then again, it is a choice I made. I could have put my foot down. I told Jason we would not go to Chico this weekend because we had to save money.

Did we save money this week? Um, absolutely not. This after I helped Jason with his unemployment paperwork and job applications. I'm starting to wonder what the guy would do without me. I don't dislike him...but he and I are grown men, each with our own problems. I've got to concentrate on mine, and he on his.

If this sounds harsh, well, I apologize. I don't like to use profanity, but will make an exception. But I guess it's like Jimmy Buffett sings in "Margaritaville" --

"Some people claim that there's a woman to blame, but I know/
It's my own (damn) fault."

It's not a mistake I plan on making, ever again. Next time, everybody pays their own way.