A Fig or a Date…What to put on my plate!
Why are they called relationships? Is it because most of them are navigated along treacherous waters? Or because the Titanic sank? Or because relationshit just didn’t quite sound right to Victorian ears?
What if we broke the word down….there could be a lot of laying…or a lot of shunning….maybe even some relaying….although I have to admit from a botched three way collaboration that too much seed kills the garden.
Maybe I could consult Julie. I’d ask her, without mentioning her 80’s cocaine addiction, if love should be viewed more as a shuffleboard game on the Aloha Deck or maybe more as a lesson in communication. I’d like it to be more of one with the ship’s photographer…and less of a dialogue with Charo.
I type this as I enter a new relationship. I’m struggling with wanting to know the ports of call. I’m struggling with being able to just relax with Isaac over mai-tais. And I’m struggling with telling Vicki that absolutely no one ever looks good in a page boy haircut.
All I know is that I feel good. And I feel warm. And I don’t want my insecurities of my past relationship to spill out of the cargo hold. And I don’t want to think of the boat as a cruise. I much prefer the deep sea-diving. And we both have a scuba license.
In the words of Drew Barrymore in Ever After….Just breathe….not to be confused with Just do it…or confused with Justin Guarino…whew….breathing…epiphany….blogging helps…blogging is my fractured mind making sense…if only it would make cents.
