Last weekend turned into less of a social time than was planned. The poker game became dinner at Mary Mac's and "Men Who Stare at Goats" with Manav and Kyle (verdict: funny but otherwise kind of forgettable). Saturday night's hedonism extravaganza was postponed because Amy was sickly, so instead I went to the mall (more on that later) and met up with A for a quiet dinner at California Pizza Kitchen.

Tomorrow, we leave for a long weekend in Blue Ridge, in the North Georgia mountains. I'm hoping it's drama-free (things have been kind of stupid lately) but chock full of drinks and games and sweet, sweet sleep.

So. The mall. Those of you who know me well might have observed the shopping compulsion I've had for the past several years. I mean, I've always loved shopping, but it's grown to the point where I'm mostly unable to deny myself the satisfaction of buying things. And then the contentment is tempered by a feeling of guilt at my lack of willpower and my inability to save as much money as I could. It burns a hole in my pocket, as they say, and I usually end up taking back a few things to try to assuage that pit in my stomach.

The other day, in a moment of weakness, I had a snivel about my inability to find a decent guy, and at some point it struck me that I've been using shopping lo these many years as a replacement for the satisfaction of a meaningful relationship. Sure, it seems obvious now, but it took me a bit to put two and two together. I mention this to Mom, the psychologist, who says, "Oh, yeah, I know. I just didn't want to say anything."

This is the other side of the psychologist-parents coin (Dad, though in law enforcement, has a master's in psychology). On one hand, you learn at an early age how to analyze yourself and those around you, and why you do the things you do (admittedly, some tidbits of self-awareness come slower than others). On the other, they know just what's wrong with you but may or may not say anything.

I have to hand it to my parents. I'm as independent as I am in large part because they've let me live on my own terms and figure things out on my own these past 20 years. For the most part, I've made good choices. When I don't, they're there if I need support or advice, but otherwise I blunder through it alone, learning the lessons and dealing with the consequences.

I'm glad things are that way. I treasure their support as much as my precious independence. But sometimes I wonder what would have happened if they'd spoken up more often. "We like your boyfriend, but he's a jackass." "You can find a better apartment." "You're seeking fulfillment through the acquisition of objects." Would I have listened, or would I have ignored them?

So my plan now is to limit myself to a certain amount of splurge money each month. Also no shopping without Amy along, because I'm more focused on what I actually need, as opposed to want, when I'm with someone else. Keep your fingers crossed.