I can’t sleep. This unholy combination of physical pain and emotional dizziness serves as a condom…magnum…between me and my dreams.
I’ve written, chatted and spoken of so many personal things this evening that I find myself asking a host of new questions. Do I truly have what it takes to love another man ever again? Do I have the will to lose weight and get in shape without having some perverse surgery? Do I want to trade Broomhilda, my truck, for a Dodge Challenger…the one with the giant Hemi? Because that would be pretty awesome…Would that be a good substitute for sex? I’ve heard it’s pretty damn close. Omg…so many questions!
I think I may get time to go see S next week. Depends on his schedule. Frankly, I could use a night of ridiculously great sex with a man who has never hurt me. And, before you judge, please note that I’ve only been with two men on a totally intimate level in my lifetime, and have never cheated on Exish. Not that I need to make excuses. After giving things more thought, my conscience is clear.
Youngest called this evening. He was sober, so I knew he was broke and why he was calling within the first ten seconds of the call. He said he needed gas money because he has a job interview. Tomorrow. You know…SUNDAY? Yeah, I just snapped to that while I was lying in bed, trying to sleep. And, yes, the money has already been sent. Damn it! That kid knows I’m scatter brained and he gets me every time. Ah, well…I bet he’s not sober now. Thanks Mom!
I should at least go back to bed and try to sleep. I barely slept last night, either, and if I don’t get some sleep soon, I’m gonna have all the grace of a bathsalt zombie.
Peace out, girl scouts!