That’s why as a species, we have developed such civilized alternatives as recreational wine drinking, shopping, spa days and hot, sweaty, life-affirming romps. Can I get an, “AMEN”, ladies?
As I often do during my long, and tedious, urban-gridlock-hell commute home, I called my nearest and dearest relative. Let’s call him Mark for the purposes of our little light reading liaison, shall we?
We chat about everything and anything, and tonight he allowed me to reflect upon my ambivalent take on life. I constantly teeter on the ledge of sensible middle-aged-single-mamma-bear, and the dark, abyss of, you-only-live-once-hell-cat. I’ve very rarely been bored, depressed or lonely when I lean to the hell-cat side.
To jet to Paris this fall for a dream concert, or to play it safe and remain at home, taking my annual December break to bake, wrap and cook so the house feels like Christmas? I want Paris, but who knows which way it will all play out.
“What it boils down to,” I said to Mark as I sped through another intersection-under-construction, “is that at this age, and by my genetic calculations, I’m well past middle age. I mean I see it every day. People think they have all the time in the world to do things, and then, “BAM,” they’re dead.”
We nattered about life, the ups the downs, the good things, the bad things, and various and sundry philosophical ideas that are far beyond the intellectual reach of the average human.
Whether you’re dreaming of Paris, Venice, or a secluded château in the Mediterranean, you really should have a go-to, completely achievable back-up plan that you can call in like the army calls in the reserves.
So tonight I called in the big gun. Pun absolutely, and deliciously intended.
Beyond an afternoon sipping wine in the member’s lounge at the art gallery, an evening sipping Bordeaux with one of your besties, or a jeans-and-sweater beer night with your colleagues, is a serious, hedonistic rendezvous that leaves your legs weak and your body spent.
Always, always, always have a back-up plan ladies, because sometimes what you need is to not think about Paris, or work, or home or your own personal morals values and ethics. Sometimes, if you feel as lost as I do, more than anything, you just need each and every cell in your body to relax, be nurtured, loved and let’s not forget…awakened. Mmm….
Sometimes the best thing to do is call in the reserves, and allow them to give you a thorough and proper love-making session. For those of you with partners, make it special. If you require an explanation or instructions about how to make it special, your partner likely needs a back-up and you need a kick in the ass.
If you are single, or particularly adventurous, you already know what to do, and how to make it ‘special’.
After an-I-lost-track-of-too-many-days-at-the-office, and a whole lot of sadness on my mind, I broke down tonight and called in the back-up, the big-guns, the reserves…
The conversation went a little like this; “Hey.”
“Hey..” His voice always purrs.
“You know I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t and emergency..”
….and that was that. The wine is ready to be loosed in our bloodstream. The candles will be lit, the music will be just right, and I will time the end of my very hot, very relaxing bubble bath to coincide with the knock on my door…
It may not be a forever kind of love, but it’s a grand friendship and I’ve been able to count on him for a long time.
Pick up the phone and prepare to execute your battle plan.