Peak pudge

Normally I’d opt to spend Friday at home. Not today. Went in early, hauled ass all day, and took what may be my last beach walk before being ripped away from the Ave. for the second time. 

Met a guy at the shore. I always meet people in this particular town. Nowhere else, though. My social life wilts beyond the downtown city limits. 

I was telling one of my boys recently that I never let my weight bother me much. Even at my biggest, 75 pounds ago. Even when I started this job, 47 pounds ago. Even now, when I honestly feel bigger than ever even though I’m obviously nowhere close to peak pudge. 

I thought about my appearance for a hot minute, when the guy said hi. Probably my last day wearing shorts and a Starbucks shirt over a bikini top. Gotta give a care where I’m going. But I’m happy with me. And I wish that were enough. 

As I had said to my friend, I wasn’t hurting for cute clothes or guys. I liked me well enough. Still do. People get that and are either intimidated by it … or want to be around it. 

So the guy introduces himself to me as Dave. Tan, nice smile, lives in Boca. Good hair. Maybe Italian. Probably Jewish. (Again, Boca.)

Wanted to walk with me for a while. (D’awwww.). Assured me he wasn’t crazy; just hoped to have a conversation with a friendly fellow local. 

Single, no kids. Very nice. Weak handshake, though, which bugs me. I have a firm one and expect not to crush a man’s hand. 

Funny how I decided in that instant that this wasn’t going anywhere. 

Nice chat, more or less. My walk back to Stockholm was longer than his. Another handshake (ugh) and I never looked back. 

I think I intimidated him anyway. I’m shy and quiet and unassuming … in the first five minutes. Then I’m strong and articulate and not afraid to show I’m smart and strong.  

Well except in certain company that’s made it clear my kind ain’t welcome here. Story for another never. 

In any event, I am always looking for that spark. Once in a blue moon, I even find it. But the idea of giving up even an inch or minute of my space to anyone less than fucking amazing is bothersome. 

Maybe nobody is that amazing. Fuck, maybe I’m not that spectacular, either. (Just ask that “certain company” who mindlessly asks me the same five questions every now and then without ever listening to the answer.)

But I’m not giving up on amazing and spectacular. And  even if it never comes, I’m not intetested in being distracted by anything else. 

Not anymore, anyway. I have enough unspectacular to last 10,000 lifetimes already. Present tense. 

So yeah. I am glad this came and went. Nice, pleasant, forgettable. I already am going to miss my existing lunch buddies. And happy hour specials. 

Wednesday nights at Smoke, I will miss you most of all. Free wine and cheap chicken-lettuce wraps give me life.  

One more Wednesday left. Trying not to return to peak pudge as I try to soak it all up since I may never get it again …

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