The Trouble With Love

Monday night Sister and I joined Little Sister for Revival at her church. Due to circumstances out of our control in the drive-thru line at Krystal, we were a few minutes late. But we made it, and the service was wonderful. On our way home, Little Sister wanted to swing through the drive-thru at McDonalds for a frozen coke, Sister said that sounded good to her too. I was driving, so I placed the order, two frozen cokes and two apple pies. (I didn't get anything b/c I don't like frozen cokes or apple pies, and wasn't in the mood for anything else.) So we go to the first window and I pay the guy. Then to the second window. The lady handed me to bag with the pies and straws in it, then disappeared. She left the window open, and Sister got on to me for blowing my cigarette smoke into the restaurant, and reminded me how rude it was to be smoking at the drive-thru window in the first place. I have decided that she was right about me not needing to smoke in the drive-thru line anymore. Because... when the lady was handing me the frozen cokes, I was trying to juggle my cigarette and the first cup, handing it to Sister without burning her, while simultaneously trying to retrieve the second cup from the McDonalds lady. Needless to say, it didn't work, and the second cup slipped right through my hand and spilled all over the place. The nice McDonalds lady fixed me another one, but it was a pretty special moment for me. Of course, Sister and Little Sister were laughing at me. Until we were at the red light and Sister tried putting her cup in the cup holder. I'm not sure what went wrong, but I got frozen coke sloshed all over me!!! You can dress us up, you just can't take us out!!!!!!!

I haven't talked to Bull Rider since he got mad at me last week. Whatever... I had the strangest dream last night. Most of my family was there, as was Bull Rider and Mr. Big. Ex was not there. That's comforting. Anyhow, I was spending some serious time in prayer last night and this morning about a few things, Bull Rider being one of them. Because during the Big saga, I came the realization that I want things (guys) more when I know I can't have them. It's unhealthy, but I think that it's a great accomplishment just for me to admit this to myself. Since I have admitted it, I can work through it. So now I'm trying to figure out if I am worrying about Bull Rider because I care about him more than I thought I did, or if I only care because I know I really shouldn't. That's what I was praying about on my way to work this morning when I saw Mr. Big's truck parked in the car-pool parking on the side of the highway. I mean, what are the chances? Oh Lord, he's back in the neighborhood... please don't let him feel compelled to visit!!!

So besides seeing Bull Rider at lunch last week, my lunches have been pretty dull since seeing Ex that day. Thank God! It was beginning to be a bit much there for a minute. But what happened yesterday just made me laugh until I cried. There is this man who I see in there from time to time. Late fifties, nicely put together, glasses, balding. He comes in pretty often, but always has different people with him. Last week he had two men with him. One reminded me a lot of him, but the other was almost scary looking. Skinny and dirty, only not really dirty, just... I don't know, he somehow looked dirtier than he really was. I was gone soon after they got there last week and never thought about it again. They came in again yesterday. The gross guy was staring at me. It was on my nerves, and I sent Roommate a text message that a gross old man was checking me out. She laughed at me. I was not laughing. I was, in fact, doing everything in my power to not bring any attention to myself whatsoever. Then my phone rang. I fumbled around in my purse trying to find it, all the while the song it plays, Lips of An Angel by Hinder, was getting louder and louder. Finally I answered the phone. The Depot Man shook his head at me and said, "Why can't people just have a normal ring anymore?" Whatever. Then the gross man's phone rang. Now you need to picture this guy: Brown hair, but almost red; tons of large freckles that connect and cover his face; nasty teeth; skinny; nearly unkempt; obviously has had to work very hard his whole life... that guy... you know him. His phone should play Sweet Home Alabama or Pour Some Sugar On Me or something else outlaw-country of classic-rock-like. Instead, what the entire restaurant hears is "the trouble with love is, it'll tear your world apart..." by Mariah Carey. Classic.