This morning, I woke up feeling romantic and sad. I don't know why. I looked over at my big, empty bed and thought it'd be nice to have someone to curl up and have a laugh with. Like a good laugh. A real side-splitting, headache inducing, tears running down your cheeks kind of laugh. And, as I drove myself to work, I thought about soft kisses on my neck, fingertips butterflying over my skin and the warm nook provided by the right set of arms. To be honest, I don't think about those things a lot. Not even often. Once in awhile, maybe, if that.
So, this morning took me by surprise. And, as I sat listening to Sade's By Your Side on repeat, I found myself romantically depressed, contemplating love and brooding over what the future holds for me. You see, I'm a solitary creature, I move on my own, there are no strings on me. But, I still want that connection, at times. Maybe it's because sometimes I get cold and want someone to keep me warm.
You might be wondering how love has anything to do with the title of this blog. Hold on, I'm getting to it. And rest assured it will all tie in.
If I am honest, which I always seem to be, regardless of whether my brain tells me to put the brakes on, I don't like feeling romantically depressed. I actually don't like having these feelings at all. There's this big part of me that wants to be happy alone, always, but the truth is, sometimes I want someone. Sometimes it's hard being alone. Sometimes. Not most of the time, just on few odd and rare occasions, like this morning, for example.
Well, I did the only reasonable thing to do. I worked myself up into a melancholic funk. And, when I was contemplating sending a love email to someone to let them know how important they are to me, I signed into Authonomy. Thank goodness!
Some of you know I have a book posted there. Some of you might even know it was number one, but recently slipped to number two. If you really know me, you know I don't give a fart about the Editor's Desk or being number one or two. If you really know me, you know I use the site to help others and deliver some entertainment to the struggling writers the world over. That's it. I don't have any hopes or dreams of Harper Collins recognizing my geniusness.
Today was different on Authonomy. Not because people were saying bad things about me, no...that's normal, but because the person who knocked me out of the number one spot was accusing me of trying to overthrow him through nefarious and dishonest actions. Doesn't that make me sound like a villain from a Disney movie?
I can't even sum up what he said, because it irks me, so I will post it here:
I'm not a big fan of liars. So, I got a little steamed. I responded harshly. And, I'm embarrassed to admit, I called him a weasel. Which, I kind of stand by, because his tactics reek of someone who simply wants to slander my good (haha) name.
In reality, I don't care what people say about me, regardless of my sharp and heated reply. The one's who know me, know I'd never resort to such childish antics. Not only do I not have the time for it, but I'm way above playing people's petty games. That said, he's a snot wad.
So, how could this possibly tie in with love and the title of this thread?
Here it goes, the famous Tyson-Tie-In...
As of right now, I am no longer romantically depressed. The slight flush in my cheeks, the tears welling in my eyes, the ache in my heart, the flare of desire between my legs, and the tingle of my lips which so desperately wanted to be kissed is gone. Completely disappeared. Evaporated. Axed. Destroyed. Disintegrated. Gone.
Without the haters hate I'd still be stewing. Or worse, I might have sent the love email to that poor bloke. In the end, I don't feel weepy, I'm not staring longingly at attractive men in my office, and I've stopped listening to Sade's By Your Side -- I think adding 150 views to it in one day is quite enough. Not only that, but the sudden spike in my adrenaline from the initial anger has left me feeling energized.
Haters are going to hate regardless of whether you're sweet as pumpkin pie or as rancid as a pile of trash baking on the curb in the dead of summer. It doesn't matter if you're nice, mean, honest, caring, smart or funny. Someone is going to hate you, hate your work and make it their goal to knock you down. Shake it off, smile and say, Thank you. You can't change their minds, but trust the people who matter know the truth about you. That's all you can do.
And I'm going to forget that Sade song even exists...well, after this one last time: