November 17, 2012

Welcome to My World

Dear Tom Selleck . . .

I'm giving you a break today over at The Selleck Stache.  You're welcome.  You don't get off so easily over here.  I'm freaking out, Tom.  And I'll tell you why:

Just yesterday, I finished my bridge over the sailor's troubled waters.  Just yesterday.  I.  Let.  It.  Go.  I swear I did.  I do not lie.  Lying is my biggest pet peeve.  A deal breaker in my world.

So I let it go.  Let him go.  Yesterday.

A friend even asked about him and I told her I had made it over.  And I meant it.  I did.

And then I cleaned my room last night.

I've lived in my Magic Cottage for just over a year and my room will forever be a 'work in progress'.  I think I like it that way.  But it was out of control.  Has been for quite some time.  Like over a year.  Every time I start to clean it, I 'hear' . . . clean it and they will come.  There.  I typed it out loud.  Doesn't sound as crazy now.  Except that it does sound just as crazy.  Because it is!  I've only told Beth this.  Even she cocked (speaking of - check your balls) her head and laughed.

I just jokingly told her the other night I was going to clean my room so they would come.  So it would come.  So he would come.  So something would come.  So far, only I have come.  (too much?)

When I finished cleaning my room last night, I just sat there and took it all in.  It's not perfect, but I'm happy with it.  And then I did the unspeakable.  The thing I know better than to do.





Accidentally.  I swear.  I was only kidding.

I sat there after taking it all in and said (out loud):  Ok, send them.  Or it.  Or him.  I'm ready.  And then I laughed at the ridiculousness of it all and half expected there to be a booty call text come in as the punchline.  So then I decided to beat The Almighty Universe to the punch and said (also out loud because I will never learn):  The next boy to text wins.  I cleaned it, so now he can come.  And then I laughed out loud a little more.

I wish I were kidding about all of this.  But sadly, I am not.  I'm that girl.

And then I put on my warm pj's straight from the dryer and got a good clean sheet night's sleep in my very clean bedroom.

I awoke early ready to take on the world.  Or at least the mound of laundry I created when I cleaned my room.  I heard my texter ring from the other room.

It was him.  The sailor.

My world stopped.

All I could hear were Ray Charles and Bonnie Raitt belting out 'Do I Ever Cross Your Mind' from my ipod speakers.  Nice touch Universe.  Not only appropriate, but one of the songs I put on his driving CD years ago and he brought up to me this summer.  Which was his way of saying . . .

Never mind.  Let's just move on with this story.

I opened my texter (yes, I still carry a flip Blackberry) and it read:

Thanks Edie

Brilliant.  Did it take him 3 fucking days to come up with that?  I texted him 'happy birthday' at midnight Wednesday.  (I left that part out yesterday, didn't I?  That's selective omission, not a lie.)  No pomp.  No circumstance.  Two capitals.  No period.  And he used my name.

Damn him.

I'm not texting 'you're welcome s' until Tuesday.  Late Tuesday.  All lower-case.  No period.  And I'll only use his initial.

true story.

Edie B. Kuhl

November 16, 2012

We All Deal Differently

Dear Tom Selleck . . .

By yesterday afternoon, I couldn't take seeing the sailor's name in the top righthand corner of my Facebook one second longer.  So I wrote this on his wall:

happy birthday.

Brilliant.  I know.  It took me all day to come up with that.  No pomp.  No circumstance.  All lower-case.  With a period.  I didn't use his nickname, his name, or even his initial.  THAT will show him!  Or not.

Clearly, I have moved on.

So now, let's have some sex to prove it!  Not you and me, Tom!  Just me.  Well, me with a partner.  Hopefully.

prostituted myself out made the announcement of my sexual intentions over at The Selleck Stache.  My guess is Mike, the Stache Master over there, regrets the day he ever invited me to crash his site.  I'm sure my access will be revoked before the sun goes down.

true story.

Edie B. Kuhl

November 15, 2012

Let's Catch Up

Dear Tom Selleck . . .

I was going to stop writing to you until someone's people contacted my people about your people.  I guess you really do like hearing from me.  So, I guess we should catch up.

How was your summer?  Mine had its ups and downs.  The sailor visited and it was the best visit ever! EVER!

And the last.

It's a long, beautiful story with a sad ending.  You'll sometimes have that in an amazing life.

Today is his birthday, so I've had him on my mind.  Especially since Facebook keeps reminding me in the top righthand corner of my screen that it's his birthday.  Since midnight last night.  And all day today.  It's driving me mad.  There is no way to make his name disappear unless I wish him a happy birthday or de-friend him.  I suppose a simple 'fuck you' on his wall would make it go away.  But I'm not bitter.  At all.  Anymore.

I also lost an ovary this summer.

true story.

Edie B. Kuhl

November 14, 2012

Told You So

Dear Tom Selleck . . .

I told you things were about to get big.  Are you in or are you out?

Someone's people contacted my people and your people are going to want to see this:

true story.

Edie B. Kuhl