Wednesday, April 18, 2012

366 Days - My Love Affair with a Mind-Screwing Frenchman

I’ve been having a love affair for years with a Frenchman. His name… is Inner-Saboteur. Oh, don’t gasp. Todd knows about it. It only happens once a year and usually the dates of the rendezvous coincide with that of my birthday. You see, I’m one of those folks who sets themselves up for disappointment even when the grass is green, the skies are blue and a rainbow is shining from the depths of my ass crack. It happens – I mean, I make it happen - just about every year on my birthday, and this year I didn’t let myself down. This year, my beautiful Inner-Saboteur and I… well, we got downright kinky.  

Here’s how it usually goes down: 

First, he whispers sweet things in my ear like: “You only received one card and it’s the 17th” and “Why aren’t more people inviting you out for drinks?” because those things, he knows, get my juices flowing. Then he usually works his way, with his fingers, up to my temples because my mind is where he knows I’m the weakest. “You can forget about the Ipad,” “You can forget about the Yanni tickets,” “You can forget about an email from any of your exes, baby… you’re just… not… that… important.”  

At this point, Inner-Saboteur has me exactly where he wants me. He knows that going for my ego is a sure fire way to f*ck me hard, and hell, who doesn’t love a birthday f*ck, am I right? So he gets inside me and that’s really when the fun starts.  

“You won’t hear from your father. Again.” 

“No one will show up at your office with flowers.” 

“You know you’re bound to get in a fight with someone you love.” 

“The lingerie that you won’t get wouldn’t fit anyway.” 

“Have you seen your ass in a bikini? Please. The trip to South Beach should be the last thing you would want right now.” 

And as he can feel that I’m losing control, he goes, full force, into the finale… 

“You’ll never be happy, and you’ll never be satisfied, because that’s just who you are, Barbara. It’s never enough, no matter what people do.” 

And I collapse on my bed of self-loathing as I ponder all of the emotions that his words have stirred. Yep, it’s April 18th. And yep, I’ve done it once more. I’ve sabotaged myself into believing that I will be having a miserable birthday yet again, and the God damned day hasn’t even started. I’m AWESOME! Seriously!! No one on earth could screw up a happy moment better than I could, man. Momma always said: “If you’re going to do something, do it better than anyone else” So, yeah, add “screwing myself over” to the list behind crocheting winter scarves, winning at backgammon and making a jewish-style beef brisket. I rule at sucking, and I’m getting better at it every year. I. Am so. F*cked.  

And don’t dare make a comment about the Yanni tickets. I’m seriously not in the mood.


  1. Happy Birthday, my love. And good work this year on breaking the chain, making it a better day. Remember that this next year brings infinite possibilities. And you are loved more than most.

    1. It was a great birthday, Todd. Thank you for all that you did to make sure that it was, even though I fought my hardest to sabotage myself. I'm excited about the appointment with Deana, especially. I love you.

  2. What? Self loathing? Woe is me? You certainly have Hoke blood!!!! Either way, It's all the damn French's usual.