I told him at lunch time. No more sex talk. He said okay. I thanked him for being cool. He agreed that he was cool.
I saw him a couple of hours later, dropping in to see his mom. (And he really was. That’s what he was doing all those times, you psycho 12 year old acting stalker idiot. *ahem*) At first I thought he might be trying to slip by without talking but then he asked my advice on how to deal with his mom, who is suffering from dementia.
It’s getting noticeably worse and he said she’s acting like she’s in kindergarten. What do I do? I told him to remember that when a child is in kindergarten, we are teaching them to progress and get better. And mom isn’t going to get better. Then I should just treat her like a retard and let her go? Yeah. Kind of. Kind of. You really shouldn’t use the term retard but yes.
Okay, thanks, bye, see you later.
Later he texted me. Said it was good to see me. That I looked good in that colour.
Now it’s 7pm and I still haven’t eaten and I just had a bit of a meltdown. You want to know what caused it? My can opener broke. One of those automatic jobbies, barely grabbed onto the can lip and the battery died. I couldn’t get the opener off, and I knew that I didn’t have another way to open the dumb can even if I could. Couldn’t get the battery compartment off either, and didn’t have replacement batteries if I could.
I seriously considered saying a big ‘eff ewe’ and ripping the fucker off but, luckily, I’m wearing a sweater that lost its zipper pull last week in exactly that fashion so I thought better of it. After a few minutes I was laughing so hard at my frustration I just started crying at the bullshit, the fucking emotion of life. I told myself to let it out. And then I was okay.
That’s what I do. That’s who I am. I need a man who can handle that part of me. That’s the real common thread of all that went before. There wasn’t one who would tolerate me, who would surf the ups and downs of life with me. Help me up when I fall, encourage me when I don’t. I know I’m a really bad surfer, but still. I’m getting better. Is it a rhythm thing?
And I look at this fucking guy with the beard and the shiny grey hair who’s eyes twinkle and he smells so good and I get a girl boner and I need to run for the hills. That sense of being calm and excited at the same time washes over me the moment I’m in his presence. It’s fucking hypnotic. I could have let him go on his way today. I came around the corner and there he was, I could have walked in another direction. Or just gone into my office. Nope, I wave him over. How can I help?
I can’t be around someone who evokes such arousal in me, especially if I can’t have him. It’s like standing over warm pie, breathing in, smelling, and someone saying I’m not allowed to have any. And someone else (the fucking pie!) is telling me that a little wouldn’t hurt. But it does hurt. It hurts in the hunger it creates. I wasn’t hungry before the stupid wonderful pie showed up.
I remind myself that I don’t know him yet. I want to get to know him but that is only allowed within limits, and we have been pushing those too far for comfort. It’s only making me fall harder. I remind myself that they are words. I’m falling for words, for the things he’s saying he will do. He’s instigating the contact but it’s not me he’s after, it’s who he thinks I am. He has been falling for my words too, in his own way. We don’t have the opportunity to test those words and there is nothing I can do about it.
I remind myself that today is inconsequential. In the grand scheme of things I won’t remember today (pending my house burning down or something… brb… gotta turn off the oven). All days come from one day. Today is merely a step to where I want to go. I don’t know my path yet, I don’t know if I’ll like it when I get there, but I do know that I have the ability within me to make every step a step in the right direction, one way or the other.
And then I remind myself that I won’t remember all of that tomorrow but thanks for hanging out with me tonight.