Random Esquire

I continue to go out on dates since Boss and I parted.  Some have been good, some have been less than so.  But I suppose it must say something that only one of my dates these past few months knows about my blog.  I think it was Ms Single Mama who said that blogs were a bit like a dating guide.  Like the books on our bookshelf, I think what a person chooses to write about is revealing.

Plush is on the road until Saturday this week for work, deliriously short on sleep.  She sent me an e-mail earlier while she browsed the airport stores and said, in part, this:

“It was here that I discovered the ultimate form of myself, what I can only aspire to and hope to one day achieve – Ultra Plush.  And entire wall of luxuriously rich products designed to remove you from your surroundings and create an alternate space of peace, calm, and absolute blissful comfort.  Thick pile socks and blankets, gel eye masks, neck pillows, anything you can imagine might make your 5 hour flight more comfortable is available in pink, tan and blue with the texture of Snuggles the Downey bear.

I want it all.  I also want to be it all.  Mostly, I just want to tear open every single package on that wall, throw every item onto the floor into a giant bed of decadence, and sleep for a week.  I’m off to find ice cream.  And coffee.  Miss you.”

Methinks Plush will need some pampering when she returns.  I think a hot bath, massage, and a good meal will be a start.  Let’s face it, at this point the airport news stand has her enchanted.  Surely I can beat that, right?

This has to be some sort of joke.

This woman sat down one day on her boyfriend’s toilet and then…didn’t get back up.  Her skin eventually grew around the toilet seat.  The boyfriend would bring her food and water and each day would ask her if she’d come out of the bathroom.  Her response?

“Maybe tomorrow.”

*blink*

Finally, he called the police and told them that something was wrong with his girlfriend.  Police found her on the toilet, sweat pants around her ankles.  She said she was fine and did not want to leave.

Let’s back up here.

1.  If a woman is in my bathroom for 20 minutes, I’d politely not notice the time.  If she was there for an hour, I’d knock and see if she was okay.  You know what I wouldn’t do?  Take in food and water so she could spare herself a trip to the kitchen.

2.  Where the hell is this woman’s family?  And did she have a job?

3.   He asked her every day to come out of the bathroom.  I won’t lie to you.  I don’t have that kind of patience.  Hey, buddy.  Red. Flag.

4.  I’m almost ashamed to say that my initial thought was of a wood-paneled bathroom in a double wide – which made me wonder if there was a second bathroom, for him.

5.   The neighbor’s response?   “It doesn’t surprise me.”