I’m trying unsuccessfully not to get cranky as I watch the work pile up on my desk. Desperately wanting to get out of here at a decent hour to join Sarah for martini’s and manicures at La Strada. Ooh la la. Work has doubled, stress tripled, red bull is my energy. I’ve learned I need small breaks during the day to maintain mental focus and sanity. My smoke breaks with out the cigarette. Performing my check ups on each of you by reading your blogs. I have to know you are all okay. Blogs are the new reality TV, ya know. This practice prevents me from stapling my hands or gorging on the bowl of M&M’s (more than once a day).

I seem to be addicted to having a crazy love life as much as I’m addicted to writing about it. I could chalk some of it up to bad luck and bad choices, but I think there’s some secret part of me that is deathly afraid of settling. It’s now I hear my mother’s voice inside my head, “A woman seeks a man on her level” Suck it. I allowed the potential to walk out of my life and I out of his. He was everything I wanted in life… at the time. Hung over on the accidental love I felt like a baby sucking rum, unrightfully happy. We pushed equally and walked knowing the end would be tragic. I realize now it would not have ended as I … as we believed it would have. Just as fate interferes, time gives you hindsight. I began to understand where the relationship was wrong and unequal. He was the wrong kind of right with the charisma to boot.

One glance or twitch of the eyebrow was enough to move me from reserved to porn star. Dropping the bags in hand running across the room with a leap into his arms and wrapping my legs around his waist as his back hit the wall. Kisses smothering one another with momentarily “I love you’s”.

Wrong.

After a while your realize that having a quarter inch of something you have a better chance of holding on to the real thing when you find it. That relationship wasn’t the happy ending I long for. The happy ending both my sisters and both my brothers have found. Speaking of which, I am going to a family reunion in Ohio next weekend. The question is bound to be asked by some drunk relative I barely know or care to, “So how does it feel to be the only one not married.” I realize “BITE ME!” will not be an appropriate response, but tempting.

I was tethered in lust balancing the tight rope. I gave to much and lost more than I will admit. The swan on a leash wishing for a sunset. Allowing myself to become the weak and needy inferior in the relationship. Justice was not blind, the scales were tipped, balance was off. The real and true love was absent. Lust and potential was present.

The real – ideal is and should be a tortoise and hair where neither the tortoise nor the hair wins. It’s equal. Backs may turn with pistols drawn we’ll walk the ten steps drawing equality. Alternately vacillating between the tortoise and the hair. Pushing and gaining on life for one another to be our best. We will Veni Vidi Vici the world together.

Is that to much to ask for while I swing on my star?

I began writing this several hours ago and missed martini’s and a badly needed manicure.