MAN EATER

Man Eater is an over-achiever. Leave it to me to hit two milestones in one date.

Sunday night was my first fight with Slump Buster. It started off as you might expect: with silence. Despite my optimistic attitude on Sunday morning, as the day slogged along, sans confirmation from Slump Buster about our date for that evening, the anxiety began to brew in my belly.

I SO wanted to be detached and free, butterfly-like me; but nothing could quell that unsettling sensation that I was about to get stood up.

To keep my hands away from the phone, I made a Rice Krispies heart and decorated it in the spirit of Valentine’s Day. I wasn’t going to eat it (don’t I ALWAYS say that?!) because I don’t like Rice Krispies, but my anxiety was overtaking me. In self-defense (or self-medication), I sliced that fucking heart right down the middle and served myself a piece. Apparently I DO like Rice Krispies…as long as they’re covered in freakishly colored frosting and sprinkled with candy! My heart was crunchy and gooey and sticky and insanely sweet...and almost yummy enough to overpower the bitter taste in my mouth re: dating/waiting. (Don't get me started. Read that manifesto here.)

Before this turned into a “girls gone wild” episode, I cut what remained of the treat into wedges. My plan: to bring Slump Buster the remains of my “broken” heart. (Now there’s a passive-aggressive foodie move!) There was just one problem: all of the oddly-shaped pieces wouldn’t fit into my round Tupperware. I simply had to eat the excess. Slice after slice after slice. Within seconds my heart was about to gallop out of my chest. I felt like I was on speed. (Frosting does that to me.)

I couldn’t wait any longer. I texted Slump Buster. I received no response. Fast forward a few hours, when sugar crash was in full swing. Slump Buster emailed me as though planning a date last minute was the norm. By this time, I’d spent all day constructing an elaborate story in my mind about how Slump Buster had been avoiding, ignoring and/or lying to me. Of course I couldn’t help but confront him about this. Rapid fire text messages and Facebook emails ensued. Despite (or because of) the multiple modes of “communication”, our wires were totally crossed.

“Ugh,” I finally texted, pulling over to the side of the road so I wouldn’t kill myself en route to Slump Buster’s place. “Could you just CALL me?!”

While waiting for the call, a cab pulled up alongside me and the driver waved my window down.

“Are you staying or going?” he yelled.

Oh, buddy. If I knew the answer to that...

“Uh…” I mumbled. “I think I’m staying.”

“You look like you're going,” Cabbie said, pointing at my tail lights. The gear was still in reverse. Even my SUV was confused about what was happening.

I put the car in park. Cabbie moved along. Slump Buster called. (Gotta love a man who can follow directions.) But instead of sorting out the technological mess, the situation got stickier. Suddenly, four letter words (including “Puck”) were flying (from him) and tears were being shed (by me). There I was, somewhere on Lake Street in the middle of a snowstorm, crying into my cell phone as Slump Buster cursed his predecessors for fucking with my head. (Funny aside: Slump Buster once said, “If I ever see Puck, I’m going to punch him in his vagina!” Aww!)

“I’m sorry those things happened to you,” Slump Buster said when we both calmed down. “But I’m not those guys. If you can’t give me the benefit of the doubt, this isn’t going to work.”

“I’m trying,” I whined. “But I haven’t done this in a long time!” (Meaning the delicate dance of relating while keeping my paranoia in check.) I’ve also never had a relationship that was simultaneously occurring in real time, on Facebook, and two blogs. Cyberspace can be really poisonous to relationships!

The line went quiet for a few moments. (Quiet lulls between Slump Buster and me are never uncomfortable. I love that.) I asked Slump Buster what he wanted to do. At the very least, I thought he’d say he needed some space. I also thought he might tell me to fuck off.

I thought he was going to say anything but what he did, which was: "Come over."

“Are you sure?” I asked. (Note to self: NEVER ask questions you don’t want to hear the answers to. Always, always, just say “okay”.)

“Yeah,” Slump Buster said. “It’s better to take care of these things right away.”

Thank God.

I took a few deep breaths, reapplied my makeup, and went to Slump Buster’s.

When I arrived, he was sitting on the couch with his laptop. We had a little chat. I almost cried but pulled it together. My punishment for flipping out, Slump Buster decided, was to watch the Super Bowl while he finished up work. (Confession: I didn't watch the game. I read "A Common Pornography" by Kevin Sampsell instead.)

Eventually, Slump Buster busted open the Tupperware of Rice Krispies treats.

“Take another little piece of my heart now, baby!” I said.

Boy, did he ever. Slump Buster ate all but one slice! (i.e. about the same amount I’d eaten before coming over.) Watching him eat my treats was so sweet. It was all the proof I needed that the argument was over.

“I’m glad you like those,” I said, beaming.

“You like ME,” Slump Buster teased. (I love when he teases me. Teasing and tickles. He does both really well. Swoon...)

“I DO like you!” I said. “That’s why this is so hard!”

Truce declared, Super Bowl complete, Slump Buster and I went back to the bedroom for our “real” date…and reached another relational milestone. That spicy story in my next post!

WE-GOTTA-TALK SWEET HEART

INGREDIENTS

2 tablespoons butter
½ (10.5 ounce) bag mini marshmallows
3 cups Rice Krispies
½ container Pillsbury Valentine’s Day frosting
1 box (1 ounce) Sweethearts Conversation candies

METHOD

• Spray heart-shaped cake pan with cooking spray.

• Melt butter and marshmallows in large saucepan over medium heat, stirring frequently with wooden spoon.

• Remove pan from heat, add cereal, and stir until combined. Scoop mixture into greased pan.

• Coat hands with cooking spray and gently press Rice Krispies mixture into pan until flattened.

• Cool on countertop, remove from pan, frost and decorate heart with conversation candies.

• Take another little piece of my heart now, baby. Or six.