Not sure if it's the headiness of the early summer days when everything seems possible, or whether it's this blog and being forced to process my rambling thoughts into logical sentences but I'm starting to feel... better. Hopeful even. I haven't cried in 5 days now. It could also be down to those desperate attempts to go out and do things. Something in any case has shifted.
I've started paying attention to real food again. I haven't had pizza in 2 weeks. Yesterday I found myself frustrated at the poor quality of the Serrano ham available in my neck of the woods ( I know, wars and famine are dreadful things but... so is bad ham! Just look at the ailing economy in Spain!) - no matter how fussy fastidious as this might seem to the untrained eye, trust me, it's a good sign.
I even attempted to do my hair (with the curling iron that hasn't seen the day light since my 30th birthday and the hair loss incident) the other day!
And I even went shopping. No, not online where you can conveniently hide your tear-stained face and sweatpants behind the anonymity of Paypal, but actual shops. And I've booked a new weekend trip!
Something to do with this (sudden?) buoyancy might have the fact that a contact has tentatively been re-established. The Man called. We talked. He seems convinced we could "do better". As according to him "we're pretty damn good together".
Now, words were never his forte and in his time he did administer some confidence-shattering blows ("less muffin-top", anyone?), but he's no match to a man I just read about. On his death bed he told his wife to "get her boobs sorted out as they're not as good as they used to be" (this is a true story.). Well, I bet they weren't- she was 66! And a grandmother of 13!!!
Now, words were never his forte and in his time he did administer some confidence-shattering blows ("less muffin-top", anyone?), but he's no match to a man I just read about. On his death bed he told his wife to "get her boobs sorted out as they're not as good as they used to be" (this is a true story.). Well, I bet they weren't- she was 66! And a grandmother of 13!!!
Anyway. So far there have been a couple of text messages. We'll see.
I could blow-dry my hair with the furious eye-rolling going and finger-wagging on out there right now. But before you start pelting me with bad eggs and rotten tomatos... let's just see what he has to say, ok? I'm taking this cautiously. I can't afford to let him do this to me again. Now more than ever I need some kind of a guarantee. So... let's see what he has to offer, shall we?
I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt one more time. If he fucks up and makes you cry, I'll have his guts for garters!
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