A girl can always hope

My mom told me, “You don’t blog that often, do you?”

I explained to her that I write when I want to and not on a schedule. I used to have to write a blog post every week for the bakery I worked for and again when I blogged for my non-profit. While it stretched me and made me a better writer to have a deadline, it’s more enjoyable to write when it makes me happy to write.

However, I love my momma, so here’s what’s been going on in ya girl’s life…

I looked through my fridge a few weeks ago, lazy and bored and maybe even a little hungry. There wasn’t much in there that didn’t involve cooking, except for a pre-dressed salad that was a few days old from when My Squad came over for a Social Distancing Dinner. The salad was delicious the first time I had it so I went for it and ate the leftovers. I didn’t even grab a fork. I just threw food into my never-satisfied maw with my fingers. The salad was still delicious.

I woke up the next morning with a biblical plague coming out of my rear. I went to work anyway because those wheels of cheese don’t magically turn into take home size pieces on their own. When my temp got taken at the back door my boss hesitated because I had a 99.something degree fever. However, CDC recommendations say below 100.4 is OK, so I clocked in and started working. Stomach cramps aside, everything was fine until I was working with a 40 pound block of cheddar. I broke out in a cold sweat and started shaking. I clocked out and went home sick.

The next day, my HR Lady told me I couldn’t go back until I got a Covid-19 test. My Baby Momma is a Nurse and, as I described my symptoms to her, she told me that I was symptomatic for The Coronavirus (always said and written in a Cardi B voice). Well, shit. That afternoon I gave consent and a woman fucked my nose with a Q-Tip. She told me it was gonna be a few days before I got my results.

It took almost a week for me to get my results. Thankfully I had a freezer full of shitty frozen pizzas and taquitos. My bud, Jena, even shopped for me and left my groceries at the door. My week consisted of laying down in my bed, waking up, laying on my sofa, eating shitty food, staring out my window, watching as the pool got prepped for summer, and laying down some more.

When I got my test results they came back positive… for gaining weight. I didn’t have Covid-19 but I did have some new stretch marks on my thighs. As a consolation prize my boobs were bigger. I had joined the rest of America in gaining my Covid Fifteen.

 Remember that blog post where I talked about being all weepy about dating apps and loneliness? No? It was only, like, three weeks ago or something. Yeah, so… I downloaded OKCupid, Bumble, and Tinder again. I made myself the promise that, as soon as I heard “Everybody Hurts” by REM in my head, I would delete the apps again. It didn’t take me long to swipe through all the Queer Women of DFW.

While I was swiping, I watched a YouTube video of Eric Andre and Hannibal Burress taking over each other’s Tinder accounts. It was comedy gold. However, in the middle of the guys having fun, Eric looked up and said, “You know, I think there’s something to this. Like, when you don’t give a fuck, the women are like, ‘He doesn’t give a fuck… I gotta go on a date with him.’”

When I got a few matches on Tinder, I tried out their theory… and it worked! The two women I just said crazy stuff to both replied and kept the conversation going. All I had to do was keep saying crazy things, which comes naturally to me anyway. It was like I had discovered a perpetual motion machine and cold fusion at the same time.

“A” was really, really funny. And just as crass as me. And a cutie. I laughed so hard at something she texted me that I started coughing. I took a screenshot, sent it to m’girls and they all confirmed that this woman was perfect for me. I asked A out, thinking that we would get coffee or something later in the week… if she even said yes. We had dinner the same night we matched and have another date coming up in a week. (I asked her why she couldn’t just come over and make out with me before the date but I don’t think she’s gonna take the bait. A girl can always hope, though.)

What I find interesting about myself is the shift in how I’m approaching everything. I have no idea if A is gonna work out or not… but why should I?! I thought I had my Forever Lady with Baby Momma and again with my last girlfriend. I think the lesson to just enjoy today is making it into my skin. There’s a cute blonde chick out there that wished me a goodnight last night and sent me a kissy-face-with-heart emoji. That was a great feeling last night and is still a great feeling today. If A decides after the second date that two dates was enough, then so be it.

Today, though, I get to smile every time I get a text notification from her.

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