Malaise...

PG-13. Again, if you have any trouble imagining or dealing with me as a sexual being, read no further.

I find myself in a rather strange funk lately. My sleeping habits have gotten all fucked up, and I don't know why. It's likely not any one particular reason, just a combination of things, or even a different thing every night. I don't want to write on here about my job, or my work. I'm very fortunate to have the job that I do, and I absolutely love my job. But we're going through some "changing pains" at that joint, and everyone is stressed to the max and working even harder than usual. So complaining about it just isn't right, because we're all in it together, and we're all employed. I know that the stress and whatnot are likely contributing to my sleep dilemma, but that's not the only thing. I'm sure a few food and beverage indulgences, combined with no workouts this week, are all aiding my insomnia. Let's also give credit to my darling kittehs, my crappy phone, and my natural sleep cycle (which I must fight every day of my working life).

So I'm tired. I'm cranky. I feel...somewhat out-of-sorts. Lonely. Bored. A strange combination of restless and exhausted. I know that all of this is temporary--a sort of lull between wonderful days of joy and elation. I'm doing my best to just put my head down and barrel through it. This, too, shall pass.

Luckily for me (and unluckily for you, darling readers), I have no personal drama happening right now. I have made a couple of feeble attempts to stir some up, but don't seem to have the energy for it at the moment. Not enough emotional wherewithal to deal with anything more than what I'm already dealing with.

I would love to write about some beautiful boy from my past, one of the lovely sculptors of the woman I have become. But I don't have a good narrative floating through my brain at the moment. Right now, I'm experiencing more random flashes of memory. Just bits of emotional flotsam from many moons ago that seem to float to the surface and then drift away from me again...

Sheepskin auto-seat covers. A voice that could melt snow. Quirky smile. A strange love of James Bond films. Popcorn for breakfast. Shower sneak-ups (this man was like a fucking ninja...he would creep into the shower with me when he got home from PT in the mornings and scare the bejeezus out of me). Pizza delivery. Amazing, lovely sex. An out-of-town breakup. Reunited. More great sex. Separation. Another breakup, this time with him completely out-of-country. Closure. Contentment for both of us.

Silly gossip. That REM song "Stand." Gratuitous flirtation. Raging, unfulfilled sexual tension. Years of flirtation punctuated by sometimes months of silence. April Fools' Day. Bath & Body Works floorsets (we worked together). Desperate attempts to get him to kiss me, to no avail. Sweet and sexy text messages. Chris Farley. A longing I cannot put into words.

Davidoff Cool Water. Trashcan punch in the backyard. Blatant, public makeout sessions. James Taylor & Counting Crows--sad drunk. Red pickup truck. Beer. Wacky roommate. Ex-girlfriend drama. Sex on the pool table in the back room. Waterbed. New Year's Eve. Abandonment. Resignment. AOL Instant Messenger. A second try. White polo shirt. Tan. Camaro. Really fun date making waves being seen in public together again. Misunderstanding. Jealousy. Accusations. Love, but not love. Or maybe love, just not in love. Angry, awkward sleep. Resentment. More resignment. Wondering...

Wesley. Tweety Bird. Gorgeous blue eyes. Notes passed between classes. Walking me home from school. Movie quotes. Very intense teenage makeout sessions. First love. Longing. Need. Flannel shirt. Falling asleep together on the phone. Should have given in, but didn't. Regret? Maybe...maybe not. Hard to say. Ugly breakup. First real heartbreak. Friends again? Sure. Back and forth and back and forth and now...nothing.

Skater boy. Jams. Vans. Sleek black bangs falling over one eye. A tiny, multi-fold note pressed into my hand after school one day: "Will you go out with me? Y/N Circle one." Mad strange crush. Mutual friends' encouragement. Halloween carnival--he went through the haunted house with a cheerleader from another school and that was the end of that. Years later...we saw each other again. Wanna go out? Um...maybe...sometime...um...no, thanks. Still wonder about him, too...

Brown eyes and sandy hair. British Knights (with red snakeskin!--swoon!). Card tricks. Light As A Feather, Stiff As A Board. Belching "Yankee Doodle Dandy." Musical theatre. Really mad crush. First boyfriend. First kiss. FIREWORKS. Torch carried for YEARS. First ex-boyfriend whose wedding I attended.

Curly hair and roguish hazel eyes. Older. Very mature, to my young eyes. Full time job, rented house. Pothead. Sexy as hell. Naked on first date (him, not me). Wonderful cologne-scented candles. Newport menthols. Totino's pizza and ranch dressing. Smoking cigarettes in bed. "Empire Records." Piranha + Vienna sausages = hours of entertainment. Boone's Farm Strawberry Daiquiri. Sex. Sex. More sex. Hours of sex. Gatorade. More sex. Breakdown. No conversation. Tears. I can't do this anymore. Whatever happened to him? All I know is that he married the next girl he dated.

I would really like to know what became of most of these boys...the ones I don't know about, of course. A few of them I'm still in contact with. Others? I haven't seen or heard from in years. The girl they knew in me misses them still, in that strange misty-water-colored-mem'ries kind of way. I don't hate any of them. Don't harbor any anger toward them. I would LOVE to run back into them someday...to talk to them again--online, in person, it doesn't matter. Just to reconnect with those moments. Even if it's only for another moment...

Longingly,
Lola