Phoneless in Seattle

It was an irritation at first. Oh no, I don’t have a phone. Gee whiz, that’s not convenient. I still went about my day. Made do with the silence. Kept all the appointments I had potentially made. I had a 16 candles moment on Friday, hoping to see the person I’d invited to the Moth. I didn’t really expect him to show.  No follow-up is legit reason to not be there. My complete radio silence is reason enough to never think about me again. Alas, or something. 

After an entire weekend of literal sickness from stressing about money, work, loneliness and stupid boys, I’m ready to have a phone again.  I can’t take my search for employment or positive human connections seriously if there’s no way to stay in touch.  Opportunities are floating past me every day because I was too reliant on my cell phone.  I know better than this.  I’m not on my game.  I can sit alone for hours when I know there’s a potential connection waiting for me in that tiny stupid-box. What’s wrong with me?

Without those small doses of communication I’ve languished into a social cripple.  Slavering over chance conversations and swooning at accidental physical contact, I even offered to have sex with a friend just so I didn’t have to be alone.  Fortunately, he’s a good guy.  It wouldn’t have worked anyway.  I’m not really looking for physical satisfaction.  I’m looking for affection.  I’m looking for a calm person that likes my company.  I’m looking for genuine emotional support.  Somehow playing with my nipples diminishes the sense of compassion I’m looking for – even though I love it when people play with my nipples.

Focusing on patience and yoga.  Remembering lots of my past.  I miss my old house and the feeling of dogs in the room.  Surrounded by exactly what I want and don’t feel like any of it is really mine.  I want help and don’t know where to find it.  There is one truth I’ve excavated from this hard place I’m up against.  Whenever I think I’ve missed what I’m looking for it’s usually just a little further down the road.  I’m fighting the urge to look back.  If I keep faith, my priorities sort themselves out.

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