Waiting for oven to preheat

I’m outside with Bo. It’s sunny and kind of cool.

I’m going to have a leftover birthday pizza snack with cheesy bread. In the meantime I’m eating a chunk of magic.

Chocolate IS magical. If only men could be as satisfying.

Bo is sitting in the sun. He’s loving it. I just pulled an oak tree leaf out of my coffee. At least it didn’t alter the flavor. At least it wasn’t a bug. That would have been a waste of precious nutrients. Psychological nutrients. Law and order nutrients.

No, I don’t think he’s worshipping two of my plants.

So, yesterday sort of sucked. I turned 62, but I’m settling in 26. I guess I’m lucky most people are still kind of shocked when they learn my age. I don’t look or act it, and my spiritual animal is a juvenile delinquent.

I was depressed because my life just is not where I want it to be and I was just feeling hopeless about it. Being carless for over six months does not help.

Also, I’m sick of being alone. Since January of 2020, until recently, I’ve been teased into thinking being alone was maybe going to end. Nope. That crashed and burned and really did a number on my faith that men who turn into cowards when faced with the challenge of change to get a certain person in their lives, will live up to that challenge. Many of them don’t. Kind of makes me feel not worth it.

Oooh, emotions are scary. Oooh, having psychological issues are scary; talking to a shrink is time consuming. Being reflective is woooorrrk. Gimme a break.

It’s really almost more hurtful on a general, societal level than it is on a personal level. You mean no one one is up to the challenge of questioning WHY they cannot face what needs to be fixed? Psychology has been in existence for centuries, now. Really? Some people think it’s unnecessary? It’s just so sad and depressing.

I’ve had five (yesterday I recalled the very brief dating experience I had with a starry eyed guy who used to bring me single red roses at work) emotional entanglements with men who initiated an interest in a sudden, surprising way, made me read between the lines, which confused the shit out of me. It didn’t help that my own self esteem when it comes to attraction and romance is pretty low. But, guess what, I recognize it and am working on it.

I guess they gave up because I didn’t throw myself on them. Yes, I have so much nerve, don’t I?

Each of these guys were highly educated. You’d think they would have had to take psych classes at some point in their educational journeys. But, I guess that doesn’t matter. One of them had a Ph.D in psychology from the University of Oregon. Yes, Oregon, not exactly a place that fosters closed minds and conservatism. Go fucking figure.

But, in his defense, he actually DID face his demons and we consummated our mutual interest. Then he had to move from Tampa to NY and sort of reverted back into his shell by only hinting he could get me into a graduate program up there.

It all kind of makes me feel as if there is no hope for people to change or embrace transformation. It’s sad. It makes me cry. It hurts.

Right now, I’m annoyed by the trashy neighbor driving his remote control car around in the street. He likes to brag he spent $500 on it. Really? You live in this dump, but spend good money on a toy,? The kids he has with Baby Mama don’t seem to have any pricey toys. I pray it gets accidentally run over by a Dodge Ram pickup truck. It’s annoying Bo, too.

We are going inside.

2 thoughts on “Waiting for oven to preheat

  1. Whoa, did you write this entire thing while waiting for the oven to preheat? I think my cast iron pan takes longer to preheat than my oven, lol. That’s some serious skill right there. And Bo is such a cutie. Sorry to hear the men you’ve been meeting have been duds. Anyway, thanks for sharing!

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.