The road to recovery is paved with ice cream

What hasn't gone on over this last week or so? Well, Hell apparently froze over cuz the Seahawks are going to the Superbowl.. *yawn*.. I know, I know.. so sue me cuz I have absolutely no interest in football whatsoever. Nope.. I really really don't. I'd rather do math than watch a game.. while getting a root canal.. with NO anesthetic! Yes, really!

Anyway.. back to me..

My week has been filled with some days of bustling and positive energy and others that are a little more challenging to get thru. My friends have not stopped checking in tho and keep inviting me out to all kinds of random events so we multi-task the necessary healing. They get my mind off feeling like a self-pitying racehorse with a broken leg and we get a lot of catching up accomplished as we most likely haven't seen each other in a while. This is a big deal to me. My friends are a social group with full lives of dating or plans with significant others, plays to direct, bars to open, children to look after, other friends to see, businesses to run, etc., and so far, almost every day one of them has still managed to make time with me just to remind me they care and this will get easier eventually.

But even with all the looking after, I can't believe I forgot my favorite remedy of all time - ice cream. Seriously, there's a direct correlation of break up woe to how much ice cream is ingested. When Kari and I were going thru any heartache in high school and college, the simplest solution to feeling better was an entire pint of Haagen-Dazs ice cream. I can't imagine eating a whole pint now like I did back then, but early last week, I made a dent. I'd say I'm still due about another half pint but I'm pacing it out. And they didn't have Deep Chocolate Peanut Butter, which curtailed the initial excitement. I settled for Ben & Jerry's Phish Food, which is more like 1st runner up than 2nd place, and no, in ice cream ratings, that's not the same thing.. so pfffft..

Food, in general, hasn't really been excluded at all. Break ups usually entail some time where food doesn't matter cuz I can't eat at all and I drop a little weight. This one is no exception having lost about four pounds the first week, but I think I've more than made up for it. This week alone I may have ingested my weight in cheese and chocolate. Wednesday was a gourmet dinner with my beautiful friend, Lucine, and dessert was this to-die-for molten chocolate cake that I couldn't finish so do you think I let them waste my chocolatey goodness? Oh I soooo did not.. they boxed up that little bugger and I indulged after lunch the next day. Ahh.. wish I could've done the same thing with the wine. It was lovely. Thursday was dinner at The Melting Pot, a fondue restaurant, with a customer who wanted to take all his 'telecom ladies' out. He brought his associate, Collin, who was adorable eye-candy and while my co-workers cooed over how they thought he certainly liked me (it's possible, but I think it was just cuz I was the only person near his age of 26 being the second youngest in the group myself), I barely stopped to take a breath between bites (yes, I'm sure that was a BIG turn on). This also included an excruciatingly decadent chocolate martini in a caramel-laced martini glass. Um.. two.. to be exact. Yes. Friday was dinner with my two best friends, Loren and Fatima, and dear God, Loren went to town pulling tapas items out of his favorite cookbooks for all of us and when we were done with the smoked salmon lettuce cups, gouda-filled wild mushroom risotto balls, and a layered potato, vegetable, and gouda gratin number, there was still dessert to be had, which was my second molten chocolate cake for the week! But homemade by moi!! AAAAAND there was still enough food left over to feed a small third-world country or at least three sumo wrestlers. Good thing Fatima is pregnant and is eating for two.

As I ended my Friday on that culinary note, I had high hopes for the weekend and how I'd manage my time, but the distractions of packing and house-hunting aren't the same as the 8-5 nose-to-the-grindstone pace I have in the office during the week. There's a lot more time to sit and think, obsess and mope, and thus, drive myself a bit mad. But really, the packing should be plenty to do.. and what a neat idea to oh.. I don't know.. maybe START doing it since I have about 8 DAYS in which to get it done.. but I find myself putting in only the minimum time on that and searching for a new residence while the rest is spent amongst friends and others lest I go stir-crazy from a couple of hours alone. And even that comes with its own complications.

Saturday afternoon was spent with the ex's best friend, Jen, and her friends for a clothing swap. I rid myself of four huge bags of clothes and shoes, but did return with one, tho on the small side, of new-to-me items, which made me a cute sort of happy. And really, I felt pretty strong the whole time til near the end, boy came up in conversation - and he should. Jen has a life that often includes him cuz they're best friends and she shouldn't have to worry about what she says in her own house just cuz I'm there.. but the smallest mention only a few times was just too much for the new-clothes-for-me happy and any upper hand I thought my logical side had over the emotional was quickly strong-armed into surrender. Luckily, we were wrapping it up cuz I knew I'd hit my limit. I was a whimpering mess by the time I got home.

That sort of sucked so I kicked myself in the ass and voila - my night improved! I joined up with friends for a midnight improv theatre performance, drank to the point I was glad I wasn't driving, and reveled in the feeling of temporary bliss all that gave me. One friend inparticular, Blake, who's just so fucking cute I want to put him in my pocket and take him home, is also back in the world of singledom again and there was a healthy combination of laughter, flirting, and ego-boosting going on between us that brightened my mood so much I wondered what the hell I was upset about earlier. I swear, these days, I'm practically bi-polar. I know.. don't you want to hang out with ME?? Whoo hoo - a laugh a minute.. and if not THIS minute.. for sure the NEXT! But the attention made a difference.. it's what I needed.

The self-psycho-analyzing is going pretty well. I should be a shrink. I should be YOUR shrink.. no? Of course self-treatment has proven tougher. Brandon-Two has expressed confusion over this new irrational jealousy I'm suddenly cursed with when he tells me about the girls he's pursuing. What is up with that?! We are friends. And that's all I want.. except.. oh, his undivided attention apparently. How's that for sending mixed messages.. ? Poor guy. I mean, I'm more boy-crazy than I think I ever have been in my life and tho I've unhidden the dating profiles online, I'm not sure why I did it. The attention, I suppose, is providing me validation of my worth, which, uh.. hi.. can't be healthy.. right? Why do I need someone's attention to maintain a positive self-esteem? I don't actually.. but just maybe right now.. I sort of do. Besides, if I do go out with someone - or four, what's the harm in a little talk over a little dinner? A girl has to eat.. and having company with whom I can do that isn't a crime. I mean, fuck.. I'm heartbroken. Not dead.

I do know the dangers of rebounding tho. That's not what I'm looking for, but if something happens that wasn't expected, I can't say I'd turn it down if I was interested - depending on the situation of course. Human touch is necessary to life.. babies die without it.. and I'm a physical person so if it's not a crutch that's used to excess, honestly, I don't see any harm in indulging as long as the complications due to another person's involvement are minimal.. and you recognize it is what it is and exactly what purpose it's serving. My only worry is that when you start something like this, that healing sense of touch can be addictive and if it's someone you know well and you're not exactly in the best place after a break up, they can sometimes be substituted for the one who's left you. This obviously can lead to all kinds of misunderstandings and confusion.. and that's what I'm trying to avoid. My hurt currently doesn't affect anyone but me and I'd like to keep it that way. I need to get out of this hole I've created.. not expand the square footage.

And with that.. I've segued you to a more positive note - my new roommate! His name is Mel. And Mel is great! He's funny, big brother-ish (if my mom had birthed him at 14 and if she was African-American.. but whatever.. details..), very manly and 40 to boot - not that he looks it. AND he knows all the needed electrical ways and means of hooking up a tv, dvd player, and stereo.. and these are VERY important things.. this gadgety-fun stuff guys like that give me stomach pain just from the idea of trying to hook in all the thing-a-ma-bobs to the whatsitcalled. I usually have to ask a male friend over once I've moved into a new place and with the offending wires and deely-bobs in hand I say, 'Pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaase.. just make it work.. *sniff sniff*' looking ever so un-turn-downable whilst I give them my best puppy-dog look ever.. which has never failed me. Beer never hurts either. Men are pretty easy.. sometimes.

Well.. another week has begun and the move-out countdown is now in the single digits. Don't think this isn't stressing me out.. cuz um.. yeah.. it so is.. but um.. Mel has faith! Mel is NOT worried.. no he is not! And tho I have yet to be reassured.. um.. I'm hopeful - in ALL matters this week.. Yes! Yes I am!

*saying things with gusto at least makes me feel like I'm on the right track..*

So y'all wish me luck on the house-hunt cuz you know.. it only takes one good place, right? And if you find oh.. I don't know.. some extra money just.. you know, coming out your ass.. maybe send over some movers.. ok?? Yeah.. that'd be great! Mwah!