Cast Iron

"You actually look like a woman who isn't having any sex" he said across the conference table.

It has been confirmed.
Many who know me know, I have a tendency to go on and off the wagon when it comes to love and other things. Call it what you will, burning the candle, playing too hard, runnin' on empty...either way I always end up out of the game. And boy, when I'm on the bench, it's not a fun ride for the other players...

Now, of course, I am choosing the reprieve but nevertheless, it is quite the sacrifice. And I only lay off the stuff out of blind faith that I might learn something about myself that will help me avoid white bread men and finally eat a full course dinner.

So when my good friend the ex summed me up in one line, I heard the bell tolling.
Apparently I was cleaning the house and cooking and talking and moving around with a very nervous nature.
Apparently I looked like a woman who was bottling up a whole lot of something.
I looked like a woman who wasn't having any sex.
I laughed really hard when he said it and then my eyebrows turned inward as they do right before I'm about to cry.
Then I smiled again...See on and off.

I have not been having any sex. But, I was cooking a lot. I'm learning to cook. I've never attempted to until recently and it's been very telling. Cooking that is.
At first I struggled. I add to much. I mix it up way past the done point. I have a compulsion to keep going and I take it too far. And then, voila! Unedible...
Sounds familiar?
You bet.
What a metaphor.

So here I am, loveless, sexless with no patterns or gems of truth revealed in regards to love, sex, and my favorite, white bread men. But, I am learning the various dishes I can cook in a cast iron skillet. Grill cheese with havarti and tomato, steak and fried eggs, sausage and fresh corn.
Oh god, who am I kidding?
I even sound like a woman who isn't having sex.
Dinner takes about an hour to prepare and fifteen minutes to eat.
Same goes for sex.

My fast ends on November 25th, Thanksgiving day.
How apropos. My favorite day of the year and the one holiday celebrating the food god ends up the day I am releaved of my celibate duty.
Yes sir!

But stage two, which begins Thanksgiving day, only begins the option to date and under self enforced dieting, I've decided no hanky panky until exclusively bound to another...Jesus. Or should I say Doris.

By my calculations, unless all revelations are revealed by 11.25.09 and it just so happens mr. future arrives at the conference table to break bread and we just so happen to talk all through dinner and come dessert, we just so happen to assign our undying love to eachother exclusively, thanksgiving day will be another skillet convention with fifteen minutes of stuffing and a king bed for one.

I better go fire up the pan. It's gonna be a long time before the butter gets hot.