Dear Richard, Again...

Sex in the Woods

by Crystal Laramore

“Listening to the rhythm of the falling rain, drinking a bottle of Big Ass Shiraz”. Hey it’s my party and I’ll sing the songs however I want to. At least I haven’t gone so far into the Country & Western Vault of sad songs that I’m in the Patsy Cline Crazy section. Oh, I mean the song Crazy. Yes, I’m in the crazy section of life all right.

Listen Hold People, when we’re on hold why can’t we listen to rain & thunder? It’s soooo soothing. Today I was on a different kind of hold-the hospital (NOT the crazy part of the hospital, but next week…) put me on hold. They kept saying “thank you for your patience”. What? I’m not being patient. You “hold people” are in denial. I’m fuming and by the time you answer this phone…

Clearly I’m still on (relationship) hold and still doing crazy things like driving 25 miles to make a deposit at the bank on Veteran’s Day and then driving straight to the post office to check the mail-YES, on the very same national holiday. I bet the bank video made for some pretty good speculation on Wednesday morning. WHO IS this crazy lady looking all over for people or help? Doesn’t she know it’s a national holiday? Hmmm, she does have a crazed look in her eyes. Maybe she’s casing the joint…That was yesterday…

Today, my poor, poor propane guy called me (Wednesday, 12 November). He may never call again. He was calling to give me a quote on a propane heater and started off the conversation with “Hey, I found one for $313. It might just be cheaper to get a big burly man to sleep with you at night and keep you warm”. He followed up his undeniable wit with a lot of laughter. I followed it up with a lot of shoulder-heaving, ugly crying. Sorry, sobbing. He quickly responded with, “But with my discount it would only be $275.00”. I hung up on him.

What does that say? If I cry I can get a $38 discount? If my feelings are being hurt and my heart is aching it actually has a monetary value? Pain is worth something? And men wonder why (some) women can cry at the drop of a hat. Let me know when my crying is worth a Mercedes!

Thursdays we play Texas Hold ’Em. It’s a ritualistic event here. We always have the usual suspects and sometimes a newbie or two. Wonder if Jeff will ever step inside again? If I were him I would be wondering if the environment “in there” is stable. “What if I beat her at poker? She does have a concealed hand-gun license”. Yes, there are lots of scenarios I would be playing in my head if I were him and I had just spoken with me.

Yesterday I thought I was healing cuz I deleted one of his emails. Not one to me directly you understand, cuz that is just crazy man. No, it was one where he hit “reply all”. I just hit delete. Typically I would read his five little words and think how wise he is to get his thought process across in so few words (cuz that impresses me. I’m a little wordy.) and then I would save his profound five little words in “His” file. I looked at “his” file the other day and the day I was put on hold just jumps out at me, like Jason in Friday the 13th. Good thing I’m a saver. That way I know when things were put on hold and I can put a time frame on the holding pattern and hang up one day. You know, when I’m not patient anymore.

Some good news (really, it’s sad news but I’m trying to be a bitch) is that when I wake up now he’s not the first thought on my mind, he’s the second and that’s a start. My friends, male and female alike, laughed a lot at my last article/blog and that made me laugh too. Laughter, like time, is a good healer. But then again, so is beer and tequila. Music on the other hand is a terrible healer unless you like country music. County music and some of the pop music I’ve found (Rehab) have really lifted my spirits and given me lots of ideas in case I cross the line between sanity and wigged out, put on a diaper and drive fifteen hours to see him; yes, without a written/verbal/mental invitation. So...

One of my male friends is going through exactly the same thing and his dilemma, his reason for sleepless nights is the “why” factor. He wants to know why. Heck, I KNOW why and it doesn’t help. He says his imagination is running in circles and I just suggested he not give his imagination a knife! Sometimes your mind is a dangerous place and you shouldn’t go there alone. Take a friend. But take a stable friend. Snicker, as if…

Hopefully I’m not the only friend he has right now cuz if I am he’s up the proverbial creek without a paddle!

Lying. I’ve gotten really good at lying. Emotions are unique and completely unpredictable. I’ll go an entire 21 hours without crying and then one of my customers will tell me about he and his wife’s trip to Brazil and there I go-excusing myself to run to the kitchen and put out a grease-fire. It’s a good explanation for the puffy eyes and red nose when I return. I’ve used allergies and those damn onions as excuses for watery eyes and a red nose as well.

When people walk in the restaurant they always say “How are you, Crystal”? Partly, I would like to think, is b/c my customers and I really care about each other. That is why I lie so much to them. It’s safer for our relationship than the truth. Plus they aren’t really expecting the truth.

Life is so full of surprises that if you aren’t expecting any you can be caught completely unawares. Like when you’re in jail for casing the bank and seem confused. Or when you run out of the house with socks and Crocs and meet the hottest person with teeth ya evah did see in your whole blessed life. And no matter how understanding/patient/loving/yada/yada/yada we people on hold are, being caught completely unawares is a tough place to be. However, my Death by Chocolate Martinis doooo sooth the soul. No, I’m not morbid. I didn’t name them after him. I named them before him. It’s not like I drink them wishing the whole time, right down to the chocolate covered cherry, that he was dead. Nothing like that ya’ll. Why, I love him. (Most of this paragraph should be said with the southern twang of Scarlet O’Hara.) Read it again. It’ll be funnier.

“Have a blessed day. I’ve emailed you a guardian angel”. Are you kidding me? I’m in relationship hell-I’m still in the holding pattern for Pete’s sake. This sweet voice keeps saying “Your call is important to us”…and you people are sending me EMAIL ANGELS? I just want to turn those emails into solid, animate objects and throw them as hard as I can to the freaking, inconsiderate, imbecile who sent it to me. Except the one my friend Sue sent me. Her guardian angel was a hot, tanned, dark, handsome angel wearing nothing but white, feathered wings and a loin cloth. Hello Angel!

“Don’t break the chain or something bad will happen to you”. There’s the “why”! I’m in relationship hell b/c I broke a chain. Crap. I broke a lot of chains. Guess I’ll have to stay away from relationships for a long, long time. Wonder if my friends can take some of my bad karma? Well, that’s what friends are for isn’t it? My favorite definition of friendship is the one I share with my best friend and editor, Deborah Martin: “Friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies”. She’s been worried lately that I will test that theory.

Me too.

Richard sent me some flowers for my birthday. They lasted a day. They started drooping and looking sad and then I started drooping and … So, I put them outside in the cold, where my heart is. Yes, I’ve already noted in the previous column that I’m sad and pathetic so I don’t need the lecture. Anyway, I put the droopy, sad roses in his box. What a waste of money. We’d both be better off if he’d just sent Prozac or Kleenex or a case of Big Ass Shiraz. You should all be saying “note to self” right about now.

Speaking of Prozac, therapy comes in many forms. I’ve been building a bigger closet (you know, for all the new clothes I’ve bought), re-arranging furniture and covering my sofa cushions in bright and colorful fabric. Plus, I’m way ahead of schedule on my articles! What I haven’t been doing is paying bills. Oh, I do the payroll but that’s only cuz I want to be alone, I don’t want to work alone. But I don’t care if I can’t make long-distance calls or if Direct TV doesn’t work. I do care about the internet though. What would I do without Spider Solitaire? How would I spend my time if not checking my Inbox every 2.5 seconds, re-reading his love messages? Big Sigh.