breakfast.

December 8, 2011

Every time I do a survey on tumblr, or someone asks me what my RELAYSHSTATZ is, I always think of what I last ate and profess the following sentiment:  “I dunno, I’m in a pretty serious relationship with this THING THAT I’M EATING. (Currently, cup o’joe & some hot and spicy Cheez Its.)(AWWWW YEAH.)

My real relayshstatz is single. The only time it’s ever been an issue is in 8th Grade, one of the guys I really liked decided to go out with my nemisis for a few days until he realized, (quote) “she wasn’t very nice.” LIKE A KNIFE IN MY HEART. When I was younger, I used to think of all the boys that I fancied and count them on my fingers. I really only liked them because at one point or another they had all been pleasant to me, which was super super bonus points because not a lot of people were very pleasant to me as a young person. The amount of guys I find attractive (attractive meaning I “like them-like them”) has dwindled substantially. Currently the count is about two. Maybe three if that guy who is a tea-rista at Tea Chai Te is working when I’m there.

Through various observations, I’ve been able to compartmentalize the difference between love and lust. For example, in Spanish, you can’t say that you love items. Regardless of how your emotional pallet reacts to certain stimuli other than humans; grammatically, there are words that essentially translate to “I love xyz” but aren’t used for vegetables or minerals. English is handy, because I really super triple love breakfast. Not in the same way I love my best friends, or that I love my great Grandmother, but it’s still love. A breakfast like the one pictured gives me a food boner like you wouldn’t believe. I mean, come on– check out those eggs, there’s like, absolutely no aesthetic imperfection. When I make eggs, the yolk is always all over the plate; and then, because I forget, I’ve already eaten the toast, so I can’t even sop up the remaining goopy goodness. I usually try and come down from this inescapable act of dumbassery by angrily sipping my coffee.

Sometimes life is hard.

I’ve also learned over the summer after marathoning Cagney and Lacey, that there is such a thing as ‘run out in front of a bus for you’ love. Since watching this amazing amazing amazing show, I have decided that this kind of love is my favorite. (Tangentially: I became obsessed with this show because it’s actually quite refreshing to see real women on TV. Like a sigh of relief from all of the current perfection-obsessed programming. However, I’d like to exclude Julianna Margulies from my frustratingly gorgeous females rant, because she’s allowed to be as flawless as she wants to.) Cagney and Lacey have probably the strongest, and most realistic friendship I’ve ever seen. They have ‘run out in front of a bus for you’ love. Though in their particular case, it was actually a truck. (Season 5: Family Connections.) I had a discussion with one of my bosses about whether that’s actually love. She thought it was just really deep friendship, but I’m still maintaining that there’s something stronger that lays under the surface of an already deep friendship. Strong enough to run out in front of a bus for the other person, should that other person be in the bus’s immediate trajectory.

You may think I’ve lost my entire point and am rambling aimlessly. (Gulity!) But I was just thinking recently about who I’m in run out in front of a bus for you love with. Step above friendship, step below boning kind of love. Hmmm…Not below, perhaps more of a sidestep. People who I would do my best to make happy, who I work my hardest to please; and intrinsically, in their own way, I can tell that my mania is somewhat reciprocated. She who tells me things before I go to sleep at night, answers the same questions the same way every time I ask them because she knows it makes me smile; she who is my sunflower, and holds my heart in place while my brain is behaving unfavorably; she who tells me when I should go for it and when I should sitthefuckdown, who helps me realize that my existence on this planet is worthwhile; she who always knows exactly what to do next, who reads my mind, and always has the perfect thing to say; she who lives in la-la land with my crazy imagination and helps me build on things even when they seem unreasonable; and he, who I just had breakfast with. Who shares my favorite Miles Davis album. Who has really warm eyes and always seems genuinely interested in hearing what I have to say. (Even if it’s bullshit.) (Lord help me if he finds this, because I’ll die of embarrassment.)

I am very fortunate to realize that I can love as many people and things as I wish, and not necessarily be *in love* with them.

…..and now back to your regularly scheduled programming.

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