what sandra thinks

Hello…

My post for F is going to be later than I had planned. I’ve been posting these in the morning (ET), but F is taking a long time. You’ll see why when you read it.

So… it won’t be up at what has been my usual time… because it’s 2 am and I’m tired. Hopefully it will still be up sometime during the correct day…

p.s. — Yeah, I’ve got nothing but I’m determined to never post without a p.s. again.

         
©2020 what sandra thinks

Dear E**** [full name withheld… just in case],

I don’t remember how we met. Isn’t that weird? We were inseparable for four years… and still close for at least another four… but I can’t remember how we actually met. We were pretty unlikely friends, if you think about it. I know that we had some college-freshman-specific things in common, but beyond that, we were really quite different.

Until you tried to be me. Then we had everything in common, huh?

You stole me from me. And you became a better version of me. How could you be me better than I could? How fucked up is that?

You stole my likes, my dislikes, and even my personality, to a degree. When we met new people, you had things in common with them because you stole those things from me. It was really that I had things in common with them. Not you. Before you met me, you had pretty bad taste… in clothing, in music, in boys. And you were a totally different personality type. But that didn’t stop you from pretending to be someone you weren’t so everyone would think you were so cool. You were being me! I was the cool one, you bitch! You were just more outgoing so you said everything before I had a chance… so everyone thought it was me following your lead. Again, how fucked up is that?

I think you even came to believe it was me following you. And you treated me like crap. I should never have let you do it for so long, but I didn’t fully realize what you were doing until much later. I didn’t realize what a bitch you were. I will always regret giving you too much power in our friendship. I should have stood my ground when you slipped in and stole me from me… and became a better version of me. But I’m not a strong person. I guess I have only myself to blame. I’d like to think that if you tried this today, I wouldn’t let it happen. But we’ll never know…

p.s. — Don’t for a minute think that I didn’t notice that your husband (who you married more than ten years after I married) is so much like mine. But mine often pisses me the hell off… so… joke’s on you! 

p.p.s. — To my readers—if you want the full story, it is here… and here. 

         
©2020 what sandra thinks

Dear David,

It’s been a long time, but I still miss you. I still regret losing you.

I can’t put my finger on exactly what went wrong, but the details don’t matter because I think the real problem was timing. Circumstances back then messed things up for us. Where we were in our lives… the challenges we were facing. I wish we’d been strong enough to get through it all together, but we weren’t… or at least I wasn’t. But I don’t think you were either. It was both of us.

I wish we’d met a few years later. If we had, I think there’s a good chance we’d still be together. I met you too soon. Even though it’s hard for me to say this because I’m so selfish, I really do hope you’re happy. A part of me, though, will always wish you were happy with me. You were the one. But you are also the one that got away.

Love,

p.s. — Did you save anything from ‘us’? My heart hopes you did but my head knows you didn’t. I still have the pictures you drew for me and the sculptures you made me. I’ve tried to let them go, but I can’t. A part of me will always love you. You were my best friend… and the love of my life. I bet you don’t even know that…  

         
©2020 what sandra thinks

Dear Cooking,

I had no intention of writing to you today, but you’ve really pissed me off.

I used to love you but now… I am so sick of you and your insistence on beckoning me every fucking night. I can feel my hatred growing. I’ve felt it for quite some time now, and soon, I’m going to freak the hell out. Like, more than I am right now.

Remember when I used to search for new recipes for hours? I was willing to try anything. And I enjoyed it… both the searching part and the cooking part. That time has passed. I’m sick of all of my dozens of dinner recipes. I’ve tried to find new ones, but it’s like I’ve tried everything. There’s nothing new out there anymore. And not knowing what to cook has fueled my distaste for you, Cooking.

I do know I brought some of this on myself. I never forced my husband to eat the healthy meals I prepared for myself. He’d have this grossed-out look on his face, so I offered to make him something else. That unfortunate habit continued with my kids. Once they outgrew bottles and baby food (during which time we were obviously not eating the same meals), I offered them the same courtesy I offered my husband.

“What would you like for dinner?”

I know. I am an idiot. And I’m also a short-order cook.

Some nights, I cook three or four different dinners. Some nights, only two. Rarely, only one. I have a (very) small stash of recipes I call ‘dinners everyone eats’, and I’m extra sick of making those… and eating them. And, as you might imagine, those are the least healthy of my dinner recipes. But some nights, if everyone else agrees on one of those, I take the win and I eat it, too, whether I feel good about it or not. Trust me, it’s usually ‘or not’.

I can’t seem to flip that switch… and tell everyone, ‘You eat what I make or you don’t eat,’ because my kids will literally not eat. And they will be brought to tears. No, seriously. They will. I’ve tried this many times. My son almost passed out one of the nights I tried this. But he still wouldn’t eat what I made.

I’m stuck with you… still not knowing what to make for dinner… and ultimately making more than one dinner… every fucking night.

No wonder I hate you. I know some of it is on me, but that changes nothing. I’m sick of you. Last night, I cooked for my son… then for my daughter. I told my husband he was on his own. And I skipped dinner entirely.

I still don’t know what the fuck to make for dinner tonight.

Sorry, Cooking. I’ve tried to repair our relationship, but I think it’s beyond repair. I’m done with you. I want a divorce.

Thanks for nothing,

p.s. — This does not apply to your cousin… baking. We still have a decent relationship. 

         
©2020 what sandra thinks

Dear Bergen County Jail,

I don’t know how one of your inmates got my number, but I was a tad freaked out when I got a call from your location last week. I did not accept the call, but I hope said inmate was able to get a second phone call because the one placed to me was clearly an error. At least I think it was. I’m not sure I know anyone in New Jersey, particularly not an inmate. But with my questionable past, I suppose anything is possible.

I kind of feel bad for the inmate in question now. Maybe you could give all of them two phone calls from now on so this unfortunate circumstance doesn’t happen again. That seems reasonable, right?

Thanks,

p.s. — About the inmate that called me… was he hot?

         
©2020 what sandra thinks

Dear Abs,

Thank you for showing yourself to me on such fine specimens as Chris Hemsworth, Tom Ellis, Alex O’Loughlin, and every other great-abs man on my appropriately titled ‘beautiful’ Pinterest board. I can’t be more specific and list them all… I don’t even know all of their names.

What I can do, though, is show my appreciation. So, if, perhaps, you could kindly send one (or more) of those perfect specimens to my door to do with whatever I please, that’d be great.

Oh… and thank you for fueling my fantasies and even, at times, my writing. I’ll be dreaming of you… Especially that one dream where I’m innocently sitting there reading and great-abs guy walks in fresh from the shower in only a towel, water droplets running down his chest… 

All my love,

p.s. —  Arms. Sexy man arms. Dear Arms, I love you just as much as abs. Sometimes, even more. Don’t feel left out. xo

p.p.s. — To my readers (not to delicious abs): All of my letters won’t be like this one. Some probably will be silly, but some won’t. Just so you know…

         
©2020 what sandra thinks