"You two seem to have forgotten how unusual your situation really is. The chances of finding someone you love… that actually loves you are miniscule.” …………….. William Thacker (Hugh Grant Notting Hill)
I have decided to stop punishing Sleep by forcing myself to stay awake until the pastry shop opens. It only annoys Sleep an causes the unsightly ‘weight gain’ which has made me target of cruel remarks and slanderous gossip among the pastries behind the counter
“Look at the overhang on her!” said Gingerbread Man
It’s not real. You know.” Assumed Cupcake #1
“You can tell by the firmness.” said Cupcake #2.
“When she walks it barely moves.” Snidely added Cupcake #3 as they all glared over their sprinkles… Giggling.
Who cares? I love big Muffin Tops!” whooped Gingerbread while the Cupcakes sneered,
“I’m a milk man myself.” Added Chip.
“Shut up, Cookie!” the Cupcakes shouted in unison.
…I was unpacking a box when I came across an old hypnosis CD. I used to listen to it when I traveled for work. Without it or the warm body of my ex-husband, sleep eluded me back then as well.
I set my cell phone to 6 a.m. and placed it across the room. (So I would be forced to get up to turn it off) I was asleep by no later than 11:30 P.M….Heavenly…
I was experiencing a surreal, yet fantastic dream. I was floating in a pool of peace. This perfect trance had a soundtrack, “Too Afraid to Love You” by the Black Keys. The opening of the song is layering of sounds starting with the beat…then each instrument is added until you reach the hypnotic voice of the lead singer. He hit his perfectly tuned, ‘I am tortured by love’….”OOOO Ohhhhh!” Moan…
Suddenly! An off tune loud sound, interrupted the flawlessness; I was jerked back to reality by a ringing. Who could be this rude? Apparently me. It was my cell phone. The silence of night diluted by the pulsating shrieks of the offensive technology across the room.
I stumble out of bed toward the gleaming light serving as a beacon to the possible life changing news I was about to hear. I always panic when a phone rings in the middle of the night. Between my aging parents, pregnant sister and girls, I tend to always think the worst.
Of course, when one stumbles in the dark, the shin is always met with some sort of resistance. In this case, the corner of my platform bed, “OUCH!” I fumble toward the glow as I brace myself for tragedy. I noticed through blurred and squinted eyes that the neon screen displayed two things: The time, 3:16 A.M. and the words “Private Number”
“Shit! It could be a hospital…or the police…OMG I hope everyone is alright”…I answer…”Hello?”…Nothing…. “Pronto?” (Italian phone greeting) He-llo, Hello”…I start to hear a faint mumble… “Shit…it must be long distance… MY Girls!…Which one is it? What happened? A drunk driver?…A Mexican jail? Calm down’, I assured my self, ‘could just be someone’s dream jeans on sale at Nordstrom’s. Hello!?”….I plead again with my heart in my throat… The mumbling gets louder… “Hello?!… Hello, I’m here!”
…Then mumbling reaches audibility…but I can’t believe it… “Hello?” I said one last time. Hoping I was wrong. Now hoping for bad news. However, I was right. The moans grew louder and now repeated at a rapid pace. “YUCK!”
A moaning man?… Really?… In 2011? Aren’t there like 1-900-numbers, porn websites, and live porn web cams available to the masses today? Doesn’t he have a collection of “nudies” or better yet numbers to sure fire “booty calls” he can break out?
In this day and age, surely he must have a “friend with benefits” Does he really have to call me in the middle of the frickin’ night? Who the hell would be so creepy? I hung up quickly and I was livid. Finally asleep at a decent hour for the first time in almost two years and Mr. Abusive Monkey trainer picks my number. What a jerk!
Then I thought, “The likelihood of this being a man I know is almost certain.” It was my cell phone. I felt sorry for him. He had trouble sleeping. Obviously it was 3:16 a.m. He was alone and had no one to call, but me. He was living the vast hugeness of ‘not finding someone you love that actually loves you’, too.
His loneliness, as well deserved as it may seem, made me misty eyed and sad. He is (sort of) looking for what we all are looking for. He may be searching for his “phone sex partner”, his “booty call cohort”, but nonetheless…his soul mate.
The torture of this painfully fruitless search was something I could identify with. He reminded my how miniscule the odds of finding love were. Maybe, …’finding someone you love that actually loves you’…is too tall of an order. Perhaps I could happily live with just ‘actually loves you’.