vroom, vroom baby.
I was driving to get some gas in my car the other day. And I fell behind this hott piece in traffic. He had on a Patagonia shirt, hiking boots (I’m salivating) His forearms were thick, muscular and tan. He had broad shoulders and he was looking back at me through his rear view mirrors. Then he pulls in to a crowded Citgo.
Me being the wimpy little sucker that I am go ahead to the Shell just another second down the strip; kicking myself. I should have pulled in behind him and we could have waited in line together. I should have said hello. He met about four of the 378 requirements on my list, why the hell not.
I finished getting gas and I told myself – drive back and see if he’s still there you little sissy. and you go say hello, buy a soda in the gas station and check him out (I was looking good too, heels, a mini dress & I had put makeup on that morning) So I drive back. And I slow down when I come to the gas station he is at. And I see him, with his helmet off.
Gray hair, balding, beer gut, same ride, same t-shirt, same fucking hiking boots.
not my man.
not the man I had in my head.
This is a funny story. Kind of. But it really made me think. We build up so much of what we want into something that we don’t even have. We imagine what isn’t there and convince ourselves, that maybe it is coming, maybe we just have to do something to bring it out. That if we believe in it hard enough, eventually it will come true.
that’s the cold hard truth.
Of course this brings me back to Big. I’ve been thinking of him practically nonstop since he answered me back on Skype and we’ve had like three sentences of conversation over a month. shoot. me. please. blow out this idiot brain. I can’t do it myself because I think that’d be a talent lost. so someone else please kill me.
I’m not going to see him in September, I know that already. I probably won’t even be traveling in September, because I hope my asian friend gets back into school and shit. I need to travel though. But I’m not going to seek him out again – the bridge is built back, but he doesn’t want to trim the thorns on his side of it. so fucking leave them. I’ll grow mine, turn that shit into fucking roses. Find a troll or something to guard my side of that bridge. Because that’s exactly what this is – one huge fantastical fairy tale fantasy.
I’ve seen it for myself, again and again and again. He’s not a solid dude, he’s not someone you can rely on, not somebody you’d want to be your “go-to”. But I’ve convinced myself that if he just takes a hit of that true love drug I’ve been sipping on; he’ll morph into that some day. That one day once his senses are awakened and he realizes what a prize I’d be, he’ll gallop on in with a fucking motorcycle and scoop me up and take me away to the mountains where we could hunt and fish and smoke a lot of weed for the rest of our days. happily ever after.
There isn’t a magic love drug, except molly, and that shit only lasts four hours.
soooooo. here we are, awake from dreamland ladies and gents. its been a fun time and a very bumpy ride. I’m sure I’ll look back and want to revisit. But I can’t. Want to know why? Want to know the real true gritty raw and reason why?
If he left her. What’d stop him from leaving me?
He left his daughter and the mother of that girl. So if you can do that, and do it twice?! I’ve just been mad in a mad madness my friends, and I’m drowsy, but rubbing my eyes, waking up.
I just didn’t want to. I think it goes without saying, that he can ride a bike.
But didn’t we all just learn something about that?
vroom, vroom baby.