It's a Small World: The Story of Babycakes

I was feeling really bad recently about everything. It was the type of bad where you just have to lay down silently. You don't even have the energy to cry. It was at this time that God sent me a little something to make me smile. 

I went on to Instagram and I saw a post from this... interesting woman that goes to my church. I was confused because it was a post of a man and a woman, and she usually only posts jewelry she is selling. I noticed that the man looked a lot like one of my Xavier brothers, and upon further investigation, it was him, Babycakes! Apparently, he married the Interesting Woman's (IW) daughter. 

A few years ago, I went to a women's retreat at church and my bunk mate was IW. She is a sweet enough lady but hard to talk to. She hardly has any words. She acts as if she is only given three words a day and has to preserve them. I don't know why the hater a$$ First Lady of my church thought we'd be a good fit. I suspect it was more about putting me in the cabin as far away from the conference room as possible to force me to exercise 🤬 Anyway, talking to IW reminded me of how difficult I found squeezing lemons as a kid. I would feel like my wrists were about to snap, trying to get enough juice to make a glass of lemonade. Needless to say, IW left me almost completely juiceless. 

"Having her as a mother-in-law must be a dozie," I thought to myself. 

The gag is that Babycakes may be one of very few people that I never spoke to in college. Ever. This is interesting because he dated my friend Legs. I remember they broke up senior year and I asked her why. She said, "In the beginning, I was excited about picking the crust out of his eyes and picking out his outfits, but now I want a man who can pick his own crust and his own outfits!" Boy, she said a mouthful there. She also said some other stuff about him highjacking her guy friends and making them his, but that is neither here nor there. 

Today, I think Babycakes is picking his own crust and outfits. IW's daughter doesn't look like the "picking" kind. The post IW posted was wishing them a happy anniversary, and he for sure looks happy. That tells me nothing though. He looked happy with Legs too. I mean, they used to wear matching outfits for goodness sakes! 

I say all this to ask, isn't the world small? I mean really small. Coincidentally, my Xavier brother married the daughter of a woman who attends my church! God knew that the peculiarness of this whole thing would give me a light chuckle to pick up my spirits. Won't He do it? 

He Just Wasn't That Into Me

Winfrey does not like P. It's a sad and unfortunate fact, seeing that they are both dear friends of mine. The reasoning came up as to why recently, which reminded me of the situation between me and P in college. I had a crush on him but he did like me back. This we all know. But I thought I had reason to believe he did. Winfrey saw what I saw, and told everyone I was not nuts. They didn't believe me or her, and I was left looking and feeling desperate and stupid. 

The highlight of this time was when me and about three other friends organized a dinner we were going to invite our crushes too. I invited P and didn't hear back from him about it. The night of the dinner, the only guy to arrive was Kinfolk, invited by Haynes (they are now married). The rest of us had pretty long faces. I called P to see if he was coming and he yelled, "Stop inviting me to stuff. I don't like you like that!" before hanging up. I guess he just wasn't that in to me. I swallowed my tears in a big, hard gulp and tried to enjoy dinner. 

"Do you remember this P?" I asked him recently. 

"No, but it sounds like something I would say so it might have happened," he answered flatly. 

Honestly, I'd forgotten it too. I remember when it happened, I was pretty heart broken. I think the heart and mind work together to start the forgetting process when something sad and embarrassing enough happens. A lot of the things Winfrey recalled I hadn't thought of in years. 

Well, that was 20 years ago. I'm not 20 anymore. I'm looking forward to finding a connection with a man that my mind doesn't force me to forget about. 

The Block's Not Hot

I just wanted to stop by ladies and let you know that just when you think these guys won't have the nerve, they absolutely will! 

Block Spin is back again baby! It's funny because I was just thinking of him, feeling guilty for not reaching out to him after his latest ghosting. You know how my anxiety works. I was scared he was dead or being held captive in an international prison. But of course he is alive and well and still full of it! 

I was surfing social media last night when I got a random video call. It only rang once and I realized it was him. He called me back and I turned my camera off. He said he was just calling to "check in on me". Child...I reminded him that he was supposed to do that four months ago when he landed out of state for his business trip. I mentioned this twice because he was trying to steamroll past it. He said he was calling me now which was "better late than never". He has lost the energy and the give a sh#t to even lie anymore. I told him I had to go but I was glad he was okay. You see that? Even when I'm being dissed I don't want to come off as mean! 

P told me ages ago that guys will vanish then reappear when they think you've forgotten what they did. He wasn't lying! It seems that these guys are serious about being as unserious as possible, and I'm over it. OVER IT! 

I had such high hopes for Block Spin. We had such a good first conversation. We talked about movies. It was fun. However, being forgotten about then randomly remembered, most likely after a woman you liked more has given you the blues, is not fun. It's belittling. Oh well, onward and upward. 

Brow

I have a gray hair in my right eyebrow, so I fully expect to wake up tomorrow 200 years old and wearing a diaper. 

This gray hair has lived rent-free in my head for days. I want to pluck it out, but all I keep thinking of is how my grandma told me that if I shave the hair off my arms, it will grow back thicker and darker. If this is true, which it must be because my grandma said it, then if I pluck my gray brow hair, I will wake up with fully gray brows and even a head full of gray hair. 

I am shocked at how vain I have become in middle age, and I have spoken to you about this before. I guess it is easy to sit on your youthful skin high horse when the reality of becoming a dehydrated raisin is so far away. My friends look so good! What if I meet up with them for homecoming or something, and people confuse me for their great-grandmother? Can you imagine a more heartbreaking situation, you know, outside of famine, abuse, and poverty?

I was on social media today and saw a picture of Charles Christmas. He has gray in his beard, and he looks so sexy. I have one gray hair in my eyebrow, and I look like Mother Earth. 

I need to allow my anxiety to settle about this before I mess around and do something nutty like shave my whole eyebrow off. At least if I have a bald brow, that may take attention away from the small frown line that I think I have coming in. 

Risky Go Night- Night (Another Risky Business Story)

I haven't been able to talk to Risky lately because she has been unrealistically tired. She has been donating a lot of plasma at a variety of different donation centers, which I am not sure is okay. To do so, she has to constantly make sure her iron levels are up, which is very stressful and takes a lot of work. Because of this, whenever I call, she is always asleep. The last time we spoke, I told her that this was just for the short term and to power through. She then told me she is treating this like a real job. 

First off, I just don't see plasma donation as a long-term solution to financial problems. But to hear her say that it is was disheartening because it means she is giving up on her goal of getting into another residency program. I mean, this is her dream and she is already an M.D. Is she going to hang that up to become a full-time plasma pusher??

We are both 41. I guess it is time to get real. We are either going to be on course to retire comfortably in nearly 30 years, so we should be preparing to collect cans, dumpster dive, and donate plasma for the rest of our existences. If the dream stages of our lives are not outright over, the buzzer going off is dangerously close. 

Honestly, if I had any sense I'd be thinking like Risky. I don't like anything having to do with blood, but I could see myself dancing on a street corner for change as long as the weather was good. At least then I could afford snacks. But I'm stubborn. My desire to be a writer is literally like a book I can't put down. If they eventually find me dead from old age in a tent city, please believe I will laying on top of my backpack full of short stories. 

If I can catch Risky while she is awake, I will try to give her a friendly push back in the direction of a residency again. We all have to do things we don't want to do when we are desperate for cash, but the idea that she would give up on her calling to donate plasma is bloody insanity! 

Slow

I think I may be losing my smart. I find that I am beginning to drift when I am watching a movie or talking to someone. I have to rewind what I just saw or ask a friend to repeat themselves. I don't have the attention span to get through conversations that I initiate! I don't know if I am preoccupied or tired. I don't know if this is just another symptom of being a woman in her 40s. I honestly can't tell you what is going on. I just feel bored and annoyed and over it with everything. It's like I can't be bothered with anything and I am bothered by everything. 

Big No Talk

It has been on my mind to do something I have wanted to do the last ten years. I think I am going to go on a phone fast. My definition of this is not calling anyone or texting anyone and only communicating with people who text or call me. I have been hesitant to do this because I am pretty sure I am going to be saddened by the results. The past decade has been about me coming to terms with loving people who either don't love me back or don't have time for me. My spirit has already told me who these people are, but I feel like I have to put my own intuition to the test. On the low end, I think that this is a sad exercise in self-abuse, but on the high end, I think it will give me the face-slapping clarity I need to move forward into the abyss of middle age. I think that a month is a good amount of time to conduct this experiment; however, I am dragging my feet on when to start. Confirming that no one cares is going to be a hard and bitter pill to swallow.