Category: Imaginary Conversation

So, what did you end up having for dinner tonight?

Popcorn.

Popcorn? Just popcorn?

Popcorn and a salad.

And a salad?

Why are you repeating everything I say?

Because it seems sort of unlikely.

Unlikely?

Now you’re doing it!

Sorry.

Don’t be. So why popcorn?

I was all stressed out when I should have been thinking of something to have for dinner. When I stopped being stressed out, I didn’t feel like cooking, so I made a salad. Then I was still hungry, and I still didn’t feel like cooking. I don’t do well with food and stress.

Why not? Food is just food. What were you stressed out about?

Should we have this same conversation about why you smoke? The reasons could be very similar.

It’s an addiction, and it feels good.

What made you start in the first place? It probably didn’t feel good to start with.

We aren’t talking about me right now, Duchess Deflection.

There isn’t much else to say about my dinner menu.

We aren’t really talking about the menu, we’re talking about why you make certain choices that are not very good for you.

You are. I am not.

Fair enough.

Talking about it just makes it worse.

Makes what worse?

It. That nebulous It that makes me eat too much, drink too much, and obsess about things.

Shouldn’t talking about it help?

Should I feel bad about talking not helping me in addition to whatever residual awesome feelings I might already have about the poor choices in general?

What? No! I just meant that maybe talking about it would help, and I am a good listener I hear. (Get it?)

Got it. The thing is, making the right choices, or rather healthier ones, is super simple. It is. Any child knows the basics of a healthy diet. Any even semi-educated adult knows many, many different ways to cope with stress that don’t involve overeating or drinking. So when you don’t do these super-simple things, you tend to feel like a moron.

You aren’t a moron.

No, but I feel like one a lot of the time because although I am a very smart person, I am pretty much unable to deal with my feelings in a way that isn’t at least a little bit self destructive.

You think having popcorn for dinner is self destructive? That’s a little excessive, don’t you think?

Yes, it is excessive and yes, I do think. I think the problem is that I can only deal with a couple of emotional issues at a time. Any more than that, and things leak out around the edges. And I almost always have more than 2 things going on at any given time.

Most people do.

No one ever said I was emotionally competent.

You are one of the most competent people I know in almost every possible way, except being kind to yourself.

I know, I know. That is why my mantra is “give yourself a fucking break.”

You should. Give yourself a fucking break, and don’t give up on yourself.

Well, I am nothing if not persistent. It’s just harder with eating because everything is a trigger: being happy, being sad, being restless, being excited, being lonely, being with people, a celebration…Plus, I just like food.

So what are you going to do about it?

When things calm down a bit, I will start to deal with it again. Somehow. I mean, it’s not rocket science. It’s just not eating.

Some people have the opposite problem.

Yes, and the world loves them.

Well, I love you.

And I love you right back. You’re good people.

Ditto.

You know what I would like to know?

What?

How do you even know when you’re on a date and not just out with a friend of the opposite sex?

Seriously?

I’m a dating dumb ass. Humor me.

Are you making out at some point after you’ve spent time together?

No.

Then you aren’t dating, you’re out with a friend.

Oh.

You sound disappointed.

A little bit, but mostly I just miss making out.

You should start dating then.

Noooooo. It’s too grim and scary and scary. And scary.

Really? Scary three times? It isn’t that bad.

Is too. How would you know, anyway?

Stop pouting. Guys do not like pouting.

Can’t I just be friends with someone and have sex with him sometimes?

Some people do…

It worked for me in the 80’s. I’m not hot now though.

You’ll do.

That is quite an endorsement. I will put that on my online dating profile.

Are you on an online dating site?

No, but it seems inevitable.

Why?

Because I am friends with all the single men I know and they aren’t interested.

Are you sure?

That they are single?

No, are you sure that they aren’t interested!

Yes. No. I don’t know. How the fuck would I know? I used to be able to tell, but now I am just confused.

What’s changed?

My interest detector is all uncalibrated. People say they are interested but don’t do anything to show it and it throws me off.

Like what?

Like asking me out, or calling me or trying to stick their hand up my skirt. The usual.

You may not be sufficiently evolved to date.

I worry about that.

Of course you do. You worry about weirder shit than anyone I know. Anyway. If someone says they are interested and then doesn’t even try to make plans to spend time with you, there is a good chance he isn’t all that interested.

It would be easier if people would just say what they mean. I hate guessing. I am really bad at it.

I know what you mean.

Maybe I should just pick a new mantra. One specific to dating and being single.

You have a mantra?

Yeah. I had to have one in fat camp, remember?

Oh, right. “Give yourself a fucking break.”

Good memory!

Thanks.

Maybe I need one for dating.

Like what?

I know what needs to be driven into my brain…

What?

“He’s just not that into you.”

You understand what a positive affirmation is about, right?

I need something that’s more of an affirmation of reality.

I’m sure someone is into you.

Like who?

I don’t know, but if there isn’t anyone now, there will be. You’re pretty cool.

Am I?

You are.

Huh.

You ARE.

Then why doesn’t anyone want to stick his hands up my skirt?

Maybe you should have a date first.

“He’s just not that into me.”

Who??

Whoever. It’s a rhetorical affirmation.
What?

Oh my God, you’re weird.

I’m hoping someone will describe it as “interesting.”

Good luck with that.

All I want is someone who is not just willing to see me occasionally, but is actually excited about it. Someone who tries to see me as often as possible. Someone who does dumb little things to make me smile because he likes me to be happy. It’s not too much, is it?

No, sweetie. It isn’t. You deserve that.

Remind me of that once in a while.

Deal.