So how much is to much? Really not sure so im winging it. Like I said before this blog is therapy and a distraction. Im pmsy, stressed, tired, annoyed and Ive pretty much have had it with the trials and tribulations with truckers, other peoples wounded feelings and anything that has tires. To top it off "lil Missy" aka the 2003 international.... Pulled attitude today. Thank goodness for my friend Mike who wrenchs on his own trucks and gave me a list of why she just up and died on the side of the freeway... (pouting is not a mechanical problem I guess). Well its a fuel thingy thing and she is ready to go.. Note: to whoever drivers her keep the right side filled with fuel....
Right now with all that is going on I am feeling like I am falling apart and stretching out to cling on to some male companionship. No matter how Bad ass I say I am or how present my self as a together kind of gal, I am or how independent I am. As a woman we all want to feel safe and protected. Sometimes with everything swirling around me, all I want is to be cared for. Just for a few minutes. Snuggle up to someone and hear their heart beat. So Im blogging instead of reaching out and making an ass of myself over text or IM.
Last night my driver took all of his life stresses out and pulled a not so smart attitude on the job and got thrown off. I give up.... I want to be coddled. I want a kiss on the forehead and my hair brushed out of my face.
In the middle of my mild mental break down and my cell phone on the verge of running out of battery for the second time AND MY DAMN TRUCK IS STILL ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD...... breathe... James called. James is the best! I dont need a man I have him and his wife Tawyna. He is one of incident boys best friends. We have now learned to live in somewhat of a twisted harmony where James has played messenger, consultant, tattletale and referee.
He got to hear me cry today. Believe me he has before.... alot. He experienced almost every hormonal outburst and delicate emotional moment during the incident. Hes a trooper. After the tears flowed and a few encouraging words James was saved by a phone call...yeah right, James made it better....
I was able to deal with the speeding complaint, the continual trucker badgering, and finally lil missy was mended and back on the road.
Skinny Trucker #2 called. This week life has dished him out a few miserable moments for him to deal with also. Unlike me, he does not crave companionship he avoids it. Obviously you can see it has not been a favorable week for either of us and it has just been for the best for us to keep our interaction to the minimum.
He called, everything became okay. We teased on the phone back and forth while he asked me about his conversations with his boss. He mocked me now that I refer to his boss as "Uncle Dave." I asked him how he knew and he said that he came out in the shop and said... "Steveo.. Your F$##% Girlfriend, thinks shes got this G$& D#$%^ St George job figured out." You have got to understand Uncle Dave. Those are terms of endearment.
In his soft voice he told me I could be there by 9 pm. I apologized that I couldnt because I have my sons. He is thinking about coming out and staying with me this weekend. He said he would never come out to the City. He misses me. Im starting to miss him. I need to miss him, I need him to miss me, I need him to need me and most of all I need to know that I matter. He told me tonight in our conversation that I do mean something. It doesnt mean its romantic relationship kind of matter ( I would prefer none of that ... the tummy ache) but friendship and that my time with him matters. I think that is where my heartbreak comes from with Incident Boy. I know I was the recovery girl and he was the recovery boy...but he promised to be my friend always. He was the one that said it and promised it to me. I never asked him to. He broke that simple 5 year old sounding promise.
I hope this Montana boy is a little bit gentler...