woman attention deficit disorder…w.a.d.d.

21 05 2010

It was only a thin veil, enough to keep me intrigued and engaged, not enough to impassion me to say something profound. She fit neatly into one of those categories in that shoebox in my own mind labeled “Middle Aged Women”.

The drone of the coffee shop music and the rhythmic guttural tone of her voice, lead me to believe that this dissertation was going to be a minute. In those moments the automated survival instinct kicks in, escaping down that rabbit hole of my own creation I slide out of minds sight while nodding egregiously to ever uptick.  To that though; I smile at the very tan very young barista sneaking a peak at me through the steam of the latte machine and I ease into the Lazyboy of my mind, we might be here awhile.  

 Back to the shoebox ah yes here it is filed under “obstinate over opinionated man eater” footnote: approach with caution!

 Somewhere between my daydreaming thought of the 20 something year old barista standing naked in front of me with a smile, latte cream strategically placed, the gnawing realization that the black coffee I had been sipping on had knocked something fiercely loose from my upper G.I. and it was moving at light speed towards a quick exit. I snapped to and excused myself to find the bathroom, my new friend look peeved as I cut her off mid sentence, (obviously not understanding the sudden need for me to exit so rudely). Of course you’d think in this pint sized coffee shop I could find the damn bathroom (starting to sweat), I had to ask the young barista who kindly pointed to a closet sized room right next to her latte machine, perfect.

 *Much like a bad episode with tequila I had once, I have yet returned to drinking the fine Kona blend coffee that I drank that morning. Having never attended a seal beating, I can only imagine the pitch and noise from which my balloon knot was producing had a similar quality as the anus barrage continued well past the allotted time for this solitary bathroom. The door handle jiggled a couple of times and whomever it was finally (probably more out of fear for the howls escaping from my enlarged lower intestines) left me alone. I knew it was epic but somehow found humor and relief that I had not shit my Columbia crème colored cargo shorts before finding les toilettes. When I stepped out it was apparently obvious to my young barista who now looked intently into her latte machine no longer giving those sideway flirtatious glances.

 No sense in hiding my extended absence I breathed heavy in an expression of relief. My date seemed rather contemplative and as if on cue knowing I was not really engrossed in our prior conversation then went on to say something very profound (actually the prompting measure to write this little jig).

  “What I’m saying is that I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m looking for a fuck buddy”. Okay now I’m all ears. She continued knowing she had triggered my finely honed listening skills. “So the way I see it, guys at your stage of life really don’t like women at my stage of life.” “In fact you have very little tolerance for all the energy sucking resources they fail to offer but you endure because you need some form of validation” ……….. and there it was she had summed up an honest assessment and pretty much nailed something I might have been in denial about but hearing it with such candor from the opposite sex, I had to agree. And by agreeing was an admission an egregious developed flaw, one that grows in the mix of failures, love, loss, abuses and control an inherent adjunct a fissure grown so vast it was now a part of my landscape. She got it but I was living a life of false hopes somehow thinking that I could emerge unscathed from a being thrown through a glass window. Pride, ego battered and bruised so obvious to the onlookers but not so to the ones like me who can not, will not admit defeat even in the smallest incision to the severe loss of a limb. No we wallow in our own abusive actions compounded by another round of false hope. I keep thinking tomorrow will be different, I’ll wake up to a searing light that will blind me and a voice will speak reaching into my gullet and evacuate what ails me and miraculously I will jump up and start running without abandonment again, no fear of the large pane of glass around the corner. In other words I’m kind of fucked.  

I almost didn’t notice the smallish hand sliding north to my dangling majesty. I jumped realizing I was in my own deep thought again. In fact whatever she said past that point I never really heard, sometimes people say something and hits home whether she realized it or not. Whatever bad intentions I had before seemed less important now, especially since I was only marginally interested before and now that the cards were on the table, the game seemed less then appealing. I stood up in my hazing demeanor slid a ten spot on the table and leaned over and place the most intense kiss on her smoke laden lips that I could for being in a coffee shop. And I whisper “I am not and will not be your boy toy” Veil removed her face shown her age in the light as it poured through the coffee shop window. She was in love and disgusted in that moment, it was obvious to the by-stander. I walked to my truck not looking back, lighting my cigarette and smiling at my decrepit attitude. Citizen Cope poured from the floor board JBL speakers and I drove not knowing where I was going and in some small way not really caring being alone was better then being validated in this one moment.

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One response

30 05 2010
Paula Turpin

You so freaking rock dude! Gosh, am I truly middle aged? Hmmmm……friend with benefits, gives one something to ponder! 🙂

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