I’m saved from my worried thoughts by the sound of growling zombies that serves as my ring tone when Jo calls me. I answer the phone, “Hey girl.”
“Lieshe!” my friend exclaims, one of the few people who can consistently pronounce my name correctly. “I miss you, you dirty whore.”
She always pronounces whore as “who-re.” She is a riot. I swear a little, or maybe a lot, but anything is fair game to come out of her mouth.
“I can’t wait to come out there and store-sit. Do you still have the demon cat from hell?”
“Yes. I should have named him Dorian or Gray, since he appears to be immortal. His sole purpose in life seems to be to hate me for all eternity. Thank you for keeping an eye on him as well as the store, Jo.”
“It’s not like I have to do anything. I’ve never actually seen the little bastard. I only know him from your loving comments. Catsareevil, you know.”
“This one is. Although I shouldn’t be so hard on him. He’s not a bad old guy, he just gives zero F’s. He even leaves for days when I’m here, so no hard feelings if he doesn’t cross your path.”
Jo snorts, “I see what you did there! Black cat crossing my path. Ha. Ha. This is why you’re single, my friend.”
We laugh like only soul-sisters can and then firm up the details of her upcoming visit. She promises to text me her flight info so I can pick her up at the airport. All too soon, we wrap our call. I really miss her.
I’m so thankful that tomorrow is Monday, the one day Grimm is closed. I have big plans of doing abso-freakin-lutely nothing.
My mind and body need to reset after yesterday and today. I daydream about lying in bed and reading all day, but as divine as that sounds, it rarely actually happens.
Even when I’m not working, I’m still working. There is just always something to do. Or at least that’s the excuse I give myself. Because what would happen if I slowed down?
I do not have the mental energy to answer that right now, so squash it back in the recesses of my brain between third grade and asking my mom to take me bra shopping for the first time.
It's a much-needed unusually quiet day in the shop, so I spend some time updating financial spreadsheets and doing my online banking. It feels so good to be successful and have a little money in the bank. I’ll check out some shoes later tonight to celebrate the profitable spring season.
As much as I love shoes, it would be nice to have a human to celebrate with, perhaps share an adult beverage and toast my success in my chosen venture. Sure, my few close friends are great and super supportive, but someone to celebrate with me between the sheets sure would be a bonus.
Dating is always a little tricky for me. The circles I move in attract some unusual folks. I know I may not be the biggest prize, with my mop of curls and glasses, Botticelli body, and penchant for retro aesthetics and shoes, but I’m the lid to someone’s pot and I’m going to be a little choosy.
Huge hot dudes, like, well, like McHottie, have always been my type. They just never seem to be attracted to a girl like me.
Sure, I’ve dated, and I’ve had a few sexual partners, admittedly mostly lukewarm and definitely not on McHottie’s level, but I still haven’t found the right person to put his Docs under my bed forever quite yet.
Despite being thirty, I’m in no hurry to settle down. I’d be labeled an old maid back in my hometown, where everyone was expected to marry the first person they dated in high school.
Thankful to be out of there, I’m willing to wait for exactly the perfect partner. But it would be nice to not go home to an empty house every night. And I know it sounds desperately romantic, but I really want to fall in love.
I’ve been in ‘like’ before. Had the tingle of a new relationship, the starry-eyed infatuation with the sprinkle of lust that accompanies it. I’ve read plenty about falling in and out of love, and I’ve seen friends do it.
But I don’t actually have any first-hand experience. Sure, I’ve had crushes, and I’ve even thrown around an ‘I love you’ or two, but true love?
Nope. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Maybe I’m broken? Hasn’t everyone had at least a few loves by the time they reach my advanced age? My parents had married young, like everyone there did. My best friend Mindy was married right out of college. Hell, I even had friends on their second marriages already.
I don’t want just any love or to settle, though. I want the kind of love I’ve only read about, where your souls yearn for each other. To feel the earth move beneath my feet and the other person seep into my very marrow.
I want to not know where I stop and he begins. I know deep in my heart my soulmate is out there, somewhere, just waiting for me to find him. And I will not settle for anything less.
My father’s words worm their way into my mind, wrapping icy fingers around my heart. Maybe he’s right. What if I am just too different, too odd, to attract my forever love?
I sigh and decide I will go out tonight, just down a few blocks to the corner bar, Jethro’s, where the folks are friendly, the food is good, and the drinks are reasonable. That should chase the doldrums away.
Although the days are warm, the nights are still a little cool, so I’m hoping the patio, with its cute white string lights, will be open. I know enough regulars there, I won’t feel awkward sitting at the bar by myself.
I’ll even grab some indulgent bar food for dinner because I don’t want to sit home alone and poke at whatever sad leftovers are kicking around my fridge. Again.
