At Least They're Committed

Hauling my black rolling suitcase down the hotel hallway at 5 a.m., I pass the doors behind which my colleagues sleep. Singing Journey’s Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’ quietly to myself I tear off the badge and toss it away. I am done.

 The stench of spicy breakfast burritos at the airport further sickens me, the rancid complement to the emotional bile rising in my stomach. No matter how often I get up and move to another section, one infamously appears in the hands of a fellow traveler who, smiling and content, plops next to me. The man in the seat in front of me even smuggles one onto the plane.

Jesus!  I need to stop. I am done. I text Caitlin, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. There’s something wrong with me.” But, what is it? I’d tweeted the night before that I hated men; nothing new, I pretty much always say that . . . with a few exceptions of course. And then my sanity starts kicking in . . . It was the best of times:

• eating lunches and touring the hall with Barry.
• chatting about Michigan football and the ire of aging with Mike (and Kathy is amazing!).
• realizing Cameron, who was even sassier than imagined he would be, was waiting for five minutes to escort me at a different exit than I’d taken after I’d freaked about my ‘new boyfriend.’
• cracking up at Todd’s STD stories from the Navy as we ate Chinese food that first night.
• that first hug from Jeff — man! I didn’t want to let go — and the ensuing two days of verbal jousting.
• Angelo’s spilled frilly red drink and all the BS we talked about on the pool chairs as the only two there. Don’t even remember what we talked about. Just nice.
• Brian in the wave pool. I saw a smile I hadn’t in awhile.

It was the worst of times because it had become excruciatingly clear that I’d lost my champion and all that creative energy that had sustained me. We’ve talked about it so it’s not like it’s any secret. But really, how many people actually have one of those in the first place? I lived decades without one. I can live a little longer. Still the best of times and the worst of times, but yeah, I’m not quite done yet.