Yesterday was a rest day.
I took out MJ for her morning poop. We came back and I charged my phone. At around 10 AM, MJ and I went out for a longer walk. We walked towards downtown and made our way around the park. They were setting up for a concert, slated to start at 6 PM that evening.
We hurried back to the Airbnb before it got too hot for Miss MJ. The morning heats up quickly here in the central valley.
I got in bed and with the intention to read but instead got distracted. I logged onto instagram on my phone. Not the instagram app, but the internet browser app. Since I deleted IG from my phone last year, I haven’t been inundated with pictures of friends for self comparison. It hit me like a tidal wave as I scrolled through everyone’s posts.
Can you believe that? I was literally having the best week company paid time off, and I was like but how come I don’t have anything to post on IG (even though I had voluntarily elected to quit the damn platform). I know that sounds crazy. But social media is a fucking powerful drug.
I got out of bed and walked over to Brian, and I was in a mood. Partially his fault, but really, it was social media’s fault. What was his fault, you ask? Well he promised me after his meeting we’d go out to get gelato. It was now 15 minutes passed the end of his meeting.
He said a lot of things. One excuse he made, was that he was working and what did I expect from him while he was on company time? I made clear to him that although I understood, he is entitled to a 10 minute break and it would only take 2 minutes to cycle over to the gelato shop (literally 2 blocks down on our exact street). I told him, if he can spend 10 minutes looking for land cruisers online, then he has 10 minutes to come get ice cream with me.
I didn’t think that was unreasonable. But maybe I’m wrong. I don’t know.
Men have a way of making everything they do seem like the absolute most important thing--and they get to do what they want when they want.
I’m not saying it’s malicious on their part. It just seems to me, in my encounters with men, that they just think so highly of their own time and needs. How do we raise more women to be like this? How do I be more like this?
Do I even want that? It seems inconsiderate, in my opinion. But maybe that’s why they give so many less fucks. Another attribute I admire.
Anyways, after a discussion on it, we rode our bikes to get gelato from the Market Walk. Unfortunately, it was overpriced. And melting. Maybe I’m biased as I used to work in a gelato shop. Rule number one is make sure your gelato display is on point. Their display was lacking a lot of love. We walked over to the coffee bar. Brian ordered the Golden State latte and I ordered a kyoto cold brew mojito (it was interesting, to say the least, as they added some sort of jalapeno flavor to it).
When we got back to the airbnb, he continued to work and I started reading again. The memoir was getting juicy. Like a Lifetime Movie drama. I was in love with this woman; and finally half way through.
Before Brian and I headed out to dinner at fancy schmancy French restaurant, I popped a cookie. It kicked in during the main course as they placed my whole Branzino in front of me. Brian ordered a white blend of syrah and I got a glass of the chablis. For our main dishes Brian got the muscles in a meaty red sauce and I got the whole fish. For our sides we got the carrots, pomme puree, and the house gifted us french fries. We devoured everything. It was delicious. (For memories sake, the restaurant was called Les Petites Canailles)
For dessert we got the Creme Brulee. The top was not so cripy but tasted more like a fire roasted marshmallow. The cream inside was so pillowy and light. The vanilla custard unlike anything I’ve had before. A high person’s delight. A fucking wonderland of a treat.
On our walk back home, there was a shirtless man dancing around in the street by himself. Brian got nervous and made us cross the street. I could feel it in his grip. He held my hand like we were in another country on a crowded train platform, and he didn’t want to lose me. And even though his hands were getting sweaty, he didn’t let go until we were inside the Airbnb gates.
We got inside and were greeted by a happy MJ. I laid on the carpeted floor of the living room while Brian put on a vinyl. He then walked over to me and asked me for dance; his arms pulling me up from the ground into his warm chest. He spun us around and around and I stumbled about--giggling.