my boyfriend is out of town

it’s not just a come-on, it’s a fact. in actuality, it’s scary. cuz i get crazier than a seagull on alka-selzer when he’s gone. and thinking me’self an independent woman, i don’t like to admit this. after all—i got stuff to DO! imPORTant stuff. law school! so i turn myself into a machine that stays up too late and reads too much and yells at the dog.

and the dog knows it too. not just because He Who Smells Sweaty hasn’t crossed the threshold of late. it’s cuz mom keeps looking into that Flat Rectangle of Light. which apparently gives doggie license to soil the carpet. and he has: twice.

but i’m not just a codependent girl who’s certain she’ll die obese and alone. i hate aloneness for the sheer inhumanity of it. without someone to hog the covers at night, i quickly grow cold. i forget how to love and think about what someone else is doing. i become the Law School Machine, unoiled, poorly calibrated, and scared.

he comes back tomorrow, and i’ll promptly announce i can do only one dinner this weekend, and could he please, please, go to the mountains or something. and then i’ll still stay up too late, flitter about nervously, and still wake him up when i stumble to bed.

but when i do that, i’ll be me: a walking, breathing, loving woman.