Below, in the comments, is the password for some password protected posts I would prefer not be indexed.
I have spent much of last evening reading through messages from the Writer to figure out when our relationship went so very wrong because he ignored me all day.
And writing about it, on this long epic post called “Are you breaking up with me?!,” which are words he said to me twice on Tuesday.
When LP unexpectedly saved me, by hiring me to frame a project we have been discussing and for which, depending upon the work I do, could lead to me creating my dream company and landing my dream job, a lot of things changed.
I called my dearest friends, the ones who know how much I have been suffering. And I texted the Writer, who has become so dear to me.
And his reactions have given me pause.
I have — for years — been struggling financially.
I got into a bad business deal, which became a terrible business deal, and I have been unable to extricate myself.
I have been unable to aggressively market myself.
I have been unable to save myself on my own.
The amount of money is takes to get me back in the game is so ridiculously low, I have been embarrassed to admit it: $1,000.
That is the amount of money I needed to pay to get everything straightened out.
And, so, after I had a working breakfast with kissing and hand-holding with LP, who was just back from a business trip, I asked him in his $100k car “hey, if you know anyone who needs to have little stuff done, let me know because I need to make some money.”
LP: “Well, we want to hire you to do the outline of this [project we’ve been discussing], so how about a retainer of $5,000.”
Those words, and then within an hour, actually handing me a personal check for five thousand dollars changed everything in my life.
There are other guys. There are A LOT of other guys.
This week, I have already:
Gone Out With The Lawyer
I don’t think I like this lawyer very much, and somehow I ended up going out with anyway (last minute invite and I was bored). He took me to a concert, after fancy cocktails and a cheese plate, and then to a quick dinner after. And then we made out in his car. Eh. It was unsatisfying.
I know, logically, that this is temporary, and yet . . . it just keeps getting better.
After last night when I was ailing and cranky and lonely and I misunderstood the Writer so he called me . . . we had another “lunch date.”
He said to me while we were curled up together naked talking about family history and music and film and whatever, isn’t this a better lunch than eating? And then immediately corrected himself: “No! I should never say that to you. You should always eat.”
And it’s moments like that which make me adore the Writer even more.
He knows me. He pays attention to everything I tell him. He is wired in to my frequency. He cares.
When it sucks the worst to be me: when I am ailing and in desperate need of soup and drugs and companionship.
And instead I am alone.
I freaked out a little bit at the Writer tonight. We have plans for tomorrow afternoon before I am hosting a dinner and I had something very particular I wanted to do.
So I told him and his response was “ok” then “we can do that.” I said in response “heh. I note your lack of enthusiasm.”
And then silence for 30 minutes.
He was on Facebook, writing and commenting about a project he’s doing.
But to me, silence.
This morning, I forgot to weigh myself . . . and didn’t have an anxiety attack about it.
I was distracted by figuring out dog stuff and doing some dishes and making tea and I completely forgot to step on the scale and dutifully note and/or record my weight.
So, that’s worthy of note.
The Writer, who has seen me naked at this point more than anyone else this year always — always — says “you’re perfect, don’t change a thing.” Because he knows I obsess and I don’t see myself accurately.
I weigh ten pounds more than I want and yet last night’s very handsome date asked how I could remain so thin with my lifestyle. And insisted I take home the truffle pizza we ordered.
There is still a chance I will trigger on something and start to cycle down, but despite the stress and strain of my daily life, I’ve not dropped to a disturbing weight.