Cravings

cravings.jpg

Professionally, it’s been a banner month… but with great power, come some ugly responsibilities that have forced me to grow in ways most uncomfortable for me. For a girl who can’t sleep without writing, I have a horrible time saying the difficult words. I hate hurting people and I am absolutely happy to swallow my own heartache to spare someone else. I internalize a lot more now, because I used to be reckless in lashing out with anger or righteous indignation. I’ve calmed down, if you will. I’ve learned what’s worth fighting for and over.

The Dumpling gets the grateful version of my mothering. I was so worried about barking orders and having “good” children with my first two, that they heard far too much nagging. I’m not surprised my son hasn’t come back. I don’t miss that old hag either. I’ve learned how vital it is to chill out and read with her. Even if the house goes to hell and she eats pasta 3 nights in a row. Nobody dies… in fact, they thrive in exactly the way and time frame they should. I say yes a lot. She eats a lot of popsicles and I cave far too often when she begs for crab legs. I learned the hard way how fast and fleeting childhood is and I am treasuring every second of getting another chance to be better, kinder and more involved playing instead of ruling.

I got hit by the worst migraine of my life yesterday. I’m alone in the office for the next two weeks so leaving wasn’t an option and it’s lit up like the top of the Chrysler building. We were exceptionally busy for a usually slow day and it was definitely a grueling push to get it done. My boss came in twice to rub my neck and bring me ice packs while urging me to go but I’m a masochist and can’t leave things half-assed or unfinished. I started thinking and realized I’ve eaten about 600 calories in 2 days and ran for 3 miles last night with a beer.

Maybe not the most healthy dinner, albeit delicious………and definitely the perfect storm for brewing a migraine.

I’ve been fantasizing about steak and barbecued chicken… so I know I need protein. The biggest hurdle to being hungry and indecisive is that I just eat a handful of almonds and ignore the struggle, but I find myself daydreaming about a pound of perfect Wood’s bacon, a rotisserie chicken and a pound of jumbo cocktail shrimp. Talking about food is sexual to a starving woman.

I would do some pretty questionable things for fettuccine alfredo.

I’d consider anal for a pint of coffee Häagen-Dazs.

See what happens when you allow your mind to run wild? Anal is awful, but starvation does weird things to you and I love coffee ice cream. As soon as you open that door and allow yourself to fantasize about the things you can’t have and want, it’s somewhat stunning at how much time your brain can spend torturing you.

Food is easy for me to manage, lately. I make dinner for the Dumpling and a salad for myself. I’ve lost my inspiration to bake. It’s a consequence of being single, as disgustingly 50’s housewife as that is. I’m Catholic, with Mormon roots… practically born in an apron. I’ll tie it back on at some point, but the absence of inspiration is helping my diet, immensely.

A text from Incredicock has me running through the highlight reel at work because I have hours to think. Craving him is a delicious guilty pleasure that keeps me inspired while I’m juggling too much stress. I was doing paperwork this morning when I was hit by the recollection of him biting my lips when he kissed me. I had a full body shiver. Goosebumps. Damn it. It’s difficult to have your body utterly betray you when you’re doing your best to put your celibate, cat lady panties back on. Christ on the cross, the first person to create a pharmaceutical cure to stop these barn-burning flashbacks will top the Forbes 500.

Take. My. Money. Please.

I find myself sympathizing with crackheads, meth addicts and heroin junkies. He’s more habit forming than an opioid and I’m a terrible quitter. I’m doing my very best to knit, run and masturbate him out of my system. It’s not working very well, but I get a solid C+ for effort.

If only I were craving a day of vacuuming and dishes, because I can make THAT happen.

Rabid Interest

I forced myself out of bed at 5, dying a little. Feeling the whole weight of eating a cow and drinking a bowl of gin. My eyeballs ache. I have to force myself into the car and to my office. Struggling hard with a headache and a desperate need to nap. Not just tired.

Bothered, and not in a good way. I had to silence my phone to stop the whistling. Mr. Grey doesn’t wait for me to text him back and when I look at my phone there are 11 new messages from him. I feel inundated. I’m especially annoyed because Incredicock’s text tone cracks me up and I’ve missed it three times now because Grey can’t pump his brakes.

There’s a fine line to holding my interest. I’m not afraid to admit that. If I feel like I have to hide from him, I don’t want him anymore. I have a million things going on in a day and I don’t care what he ate for lunch. Not. At. All.

I actually have no desire to talk to him during his lunch break or on his drive home. I’m not a pacifier.

For the love of God. Why do all the wrong men chase me like a deer on the first day of hunting season?

I realize by going silent that I’m making the problem worse. If I want him to chill out, I have to out-text him, call during dinner and send him animated gifs all day. I know the path out, I just don’t care enough to follow it.

G- You must be busy today! Have a good one, gorgeous.

G- Flying Sunday?

G- I can fly over and pick you up so you don’t have to drive so far.

G- We could get lunch in Kalispell, Montana?

G- It was great to catch up with you.

G- Navy pinstriped tie today.

Sigh. I wish I cared, but he’s annoying the shit out of me. I feel like there’s a target on my back that I don’t know about. Yeeesh. I finally snapped.

J- Hey Chatty Kathy, I’m at work. I’ll text you when I get off.

G- Sorry babe, I woke up thinking about you. When do I get to see you again?

Where’s that annoyed emoji when I need it. I put my headphones back on and prayed he’d shut the fuck up. No luck. I finally Googled how to silence him, and a lovely little moon popped up beside his name. Finally, peace.

I raced to get my little Dumpling from school and took her to the park to play. It’s getting colder and darker earlier these days, so we’re trying to squeeze every last bit of playing outside. We walked home in the dusky twilight, holding hands.

This is why I don’t want a boyfriend. She’s my +1. I don’t want her to have to share my time with anyone. That may sound a little dramatic, but it’s really important to me. I only date when she’s asleep so she is none the wiser. She is really excited that my heels have come out of  storage, though.

We walked up to the house and there was a long white box waiting by the front door.

D- PRESENTS!!!!!

It’s from Mr. Grey. I lifted the lid and it’s a big bunch of gorgeous pink roses.

D- Daddy sent me flowers!!!!

J- He’s such a nice daddy. Let’s put them in some water.

D- I want them to be in my room!

I thanked Grey for the roses and let him know it was a huge hit with the little one. I stopped short of telling him they were in her room.

G- Call me after she goes to bed.

J- I have to run. I’ll text you.

… … … ……………………..

I didn’t.

and woke up to 14 messages, including some song lyrics and hearts.

FML.

spoiled