What I Want From The Man In My Life
What do I want? Hmm. It’s been so long since I’ve thought about it. I gave up on relationships years ago. Y.E.A.R.S. I had a glorious thing for 7 1/2 years until I didn’t. Nothing enduring before. Nothing at all since. Am I some wounded little bird that needs to be taken in and nurtured back to health?
Uh, nah. I’m good. But thanks.
Well, at least in that respect, anyway. I thought I had been one day-at-a-timing it for the last six years and doing pretty well at it too. Until I turned 55 and my body? It left me a dear Terry letter and said C’YA. That’s what happens when you buy a Yugo on Craigslist I suppose.
But now 11 days post-op I gotta tell ya. I’ve learned some things about myself. I’ll unpack them here. (Okay, good, I can use that phrase and not puke. Good sign.) There have been times, like, oh, yesterday, where I felt like sh*t on a stick and decided I was going to capture that unbelievable moment from When Harry Met Sally.
Split-screen. She’s in her bed at her house, him in his. They’re on the phone together as they’ve watched an entire movie together, giving commentary throughout. Sally asks Harry what will do if he can’t sleep.
That’s been me the last couple of days. Wishing and whining that I had someone next to me I could fold myself up into and just be miserable. But at least I wouldn’t be miserable alone.
I need someone who gets me. That when I feel well, I will overdo it. This isn’t a Terry thing. When you never know how long it’s going to be before you have another good day, then you take advantage of the ones that you have when you have them. Then the inevitable crash happens and I’m dead to the world for days after it becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
What I need is a man who will quietly and gently come into my home office, gliding his hand over the laptop, close it. Take me by my hand and lead me to the couch where on the coffee table are my favorite snacks and drinks.