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 stiff. 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 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 does 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 them 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 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 pick 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. 

Sleepless in Atlanta

I am exhausted, but I can't sleep. I close eyes, and all I see are job descriptions and my resume. There is this overwhelming feeling that there is work I need to get done, so I can't relax to sleep. I look up potential jobs to apply to the next day, but that's still not suitable to get my body to chill. And as if that isn't enough, the to-do list of everything else I need to get done plays in my head on a loop. It's times like this that I really want to talk to someone but, of course, everyone is asleep. They are asleep and I am awake. 

They say when you can't sleep, God is trying to tell you something. I'm no theologian, but I think God is trying to tell me to get off my a$!. And I get it, but I know God also knows that I'm nothing, nothing without sleep. Yesterday, I checked the time and it was 11am and I had my computer set up to work. Before I knew it, I was being woken up from a two hour nap I didn't intend to take. I feel like I'm all over the place, probably because I am. Once I finish blogging, I guess I will sweep my floor. Why not? It's not like I'm sleeping.