Not a martini - just a little dirty....

I write in my head. Furious with myself the words slide toward rage and anger. So I wait, post little bits of humor and tiny stories. Until I think, perhaps, a post that seems less bitter, less angry.

A martini, the cool vodka slides down your throat, and with each sip you slowly forget. Your world, which at times seems less than grand, softens into something pleasurable. Suddenly, you are laughing and enjoying life. You feel happy and at peace. I was a martini. Never a lover or a girlfriend. When life was painful for him, I was used to forget. Cool and easy. I helped soften his world with cooing words of love and laughter. Just like a martini, it was wonderful that night, but in the harsh light of the morning, there was the regret. When last called to service, I forced myself to say no. I deserve more for my love. And I must protect myself from the morning light.

I was instantly filled with guilt. I miss him and I love him, so of course I want to make him happy. But I have missed him for months so I know how to deal with those feelings. And the new feeling of guilt for denying him my love, I will learn what martini to hold to my lips.

So I force myself deeper behind the looking glass. Love me or hate me, no guy understands me. But I will be happy or at least drunk.