A long time ago, I was in love with someone. He shared with me one day as we fed our dogs, “There is something so satisfying about being able to feed an animal. It makes me feel good.” I liked that. I understood what he meant. I remember what a weird intangible thing that was that he was trying to express to me. I liked him more for it.
Years later, I would be dating someone I had nothing in common with and didn’t even like. He was a great cook, though. One night, he asked what I wanted for dinner.
Lemon Chicken Piccata.
So he went about making it and I don’t actually remember him cooking but I was housesitting for a friend and that gave me access to a kitchen so that’s why I knew he cooked it. When we sat down to eat, he served me a plate and stared at me. It made me uncomfortable because I don’t like eating in front of people in general, much less when I’m being stupidly gawked at by someone I hardly liked.
“What?” I asked him.
“Just take a bite,” he said.
So I did. Then I smiled because it was really good.
“I love that. I like seeing the expression on someone’s face when they eat something I made. It just makes me feel good…” he said.
A couple (too many) months later, after I found out he liked the word “nigger” and laughed at the idea of a woman president, we were sitting outside of a donut shop. He, happily eating half a dozen donuts and me, sitting there drinking sugar and milk sold as a “vanilla latte.”
“I need to get a new car, mine is going to die any day,” I said. This was a sad revelation I was coming to since the car was a 2007 Volkswagen Beetle and I cherished it as much as I hated it. I had done things to that car that should have totaled it but it hung in there, faithful and flawed. Its headlights fell out on freeways, the whole plastic undercarriage would be lost in Arizona, the vinyl seats were forgiving of the hangover vomit or drunk vomit while I was driving… It was where I got my third DUI.
A thin, pretty, suburban mom in workout clothing began unpacking her children from her grey BMW SUV. The type of vehicle that if it had been involved in a hit-and-run, you would have a hard time describing except that it’s grey… and maybe you’d remember it was a BMW. I hated that kind of carbon copy boring car.
“That,” the loser I was dating said, “…is the kind of car I’d put you in. I see you in that car. With our cute kids in the back. All five of them.” He smiled, satisfied.
It was at that moment that I realized I had to get out of this relationship right away. It was like suddenly discovering the stranger in front of you is someone you don’t want to know. But also, this guy had no idea who I was. I don’t want children, and I would never be caught dead driving that kind of car. The idea he insinuated that I needed him to put me up in one was the last straw.
But I was an alcoholic, and immature, and couldn’t have adult conversations or feelings. So I relapsed for the next several months and called him a bunch of horrible names until he stopped taking me back when I drunk dialed him and said he should have his premature ejaculation looked at by a doctor because he’s awful to sleep with.
I said a lot of other things, too. None of which he deserved. None of which I’m proud of. But at least I don’t have to watch him watch me eat like it’s some gross fetish as he fantasizes about me driving a shitty boring car made for boring racist nice guys like him.
Today I left the patio door open so the dogs could hang out outside while I was at work. Coppola never did that before but now that the other dog goes outside, he likes to as well. When I came home at lunch to walk them, I discovered half a dozen wasps in my kitchen. I harnessed my animals and took them on a walk.
When I returned, the wasps were still there and another was on its way through the patio door. It was like they were inviting others over, still. I unharnessed my animals in case we needed to escape and grabbed a bottle of ant spray from underneath my kitchen sink.
Then I sprayed.
And I sprayed and I sprayed until my entire kitchen smelled like an artificial pine tree that grew out of poison. Then I told my dogs to follow me and we scurried toward the front door. I wasn’t sure what I planned on doing there but I thought it’d be a good plan to be near an exit in case the wasps were super pissed. We waited.
When I didn’t hear any buzzing, I walked back into my kitchen and saw a wasp corpse near my espresso maker. OK. One body is accounted for. No other activity was noted. I closed the patio door. Then I saw the clock on the stove and ran toward the front door again because I was late getting back from my lunch break.
I asked the dogs to forgive me if they got stung and really hoped neither of them was allergic.
Nobody got stung.
I’m really bad buying ice cream. I bought some only because I’ve been getting milkshakes and decided I should make my own. Then I left the ice cream out and didn’t need to make a milkshake since it was just all melty now. Then I put it back in the freezer. Now I’m eating out of it and added some whipped cream into the tub. I don’t even like dairy. Maybe I’m calcium deficient. Anyway, I saw this because I left the ice cream out again and it’s all melty. I really hope I never have someone over that wants some.
I bought a cover for my laptop. I’m really proud of it. It doesn’t fit very well. but I like it.