I’m back from vacation. Did you miss me? Did you know I was gone? Oh phew- you had me for a second there. Yeah, I was in good ol’ Canada for a few days- drove up to Montreal- I could have used you…. they don’t speak English up there! I know! 30 miles from the US border… crazy. I know zero French, so clearly I sounded like an idiot all weekend.
Uh, what? Did I miss you? Um… about that….NO! I didn’t! I know! It’s crazy, right? I blog about you daily, I tweet about you, I discuss you in Rob’s flat, I talk to my friends about you- and for four days I had to use a computer that was slower than in the dial-up internet days that typed a french symbol every time I went to use a question mark- so I couldn’t email. I couldn’t blog. And I loved the break. So, sorry, but I’m being honest. I didn’t miss you- not even a bit.
But I’m back. And kinda disappointed. You didn’t really do much while I was gone. Sure, you got drunk at dinner with Sam, TomStu & Nick:
And you forgot to take the tag off the back of your new shirt:
And you looked hot, every single day on the Remember Me set:
I got so much DONE on vacation! I relaxed! I ate french food! I talked to my husband! I very rarely never once feared that I would get a text from Moon saying “It’s official- Robsten is out of the closet.” I didn’t think about you ONCE (Well, one time I did when I sent this twitpic of a French mag I found. Oh and then there was the time when my husband dragged me to a bar to watch the UFC fight & I was reading Harry Potter (yes in the bar) but put it down to watch the fight between the British guy & the American guy and maybe Montreal made me think about Cannes, France once which made me think about you- oh and the bar where they were showing the UFC fight served Heineken on tap, but that’s it, I swear) My mind was free & clear of worries over your safety from crazy teenage Twilight fans, Twilight moms, destructive paparazzi & NYC cabs. As we were driving home I had an epiphany: My life would be so much easier without you.
I might actually curl up with a man (possibly my husband) in bed at 1 am every night intead of an apple lap top. I’d actually get work done during the day and not be 6 months behind on projects (For example: The June 1st customer email I was supposed to send out would have hit customer’s inboxes on June 1st intead of July 9th) My neck muscles would finally relax after being strained for the past 9 months since I jerk my neck towards the sound every time I hear the words “Rob” Bob” “Slob” “Mob” Hell, anything with an long ‘O’ sound- “mop” “frog” “opportunity” or if I see the neon green lights of the Heineken sign. My social life would resume. I might start to find other guys attractive rather than just 6’2″, dark-haired, British celebrities. (I am happy to report I am totally guessing on his height.) I.might.have.a.life.
But with every decision comes a consequence, and I fear the consequences might be major if I choose to quit you. What will I do at 1 am every night? What will Moon & I talk about? We don’t have a friendship apart from discussions of you and Twilight.* What will I do from 9-11:15 am when I’m normally approving comments, making sure the blog posts look okay, starting the new daily topic in the forum, catching up on twitter & reading from my favorite blogs? And what about from 12:25-3pm when I’m e-mailing with the Bitchin’ Bloggers and chatting with Moon about the week’s posts? Would I have to, gasp, work!? And if I got a social life back, what would I talk about with my friends? Do you know how long it would take to research what has gone on in their lives and in the world for the past 9 months? And I don’t really care that much about neck muscles.
So as much as I loved the “break” from you while I was on vacation, it looks like I’m gonna stick around. Plus do you know how many dumpsters there are in a city? And fire hoses? It’s like I couldn’t escape you- dirty trash was calling out to me and equipment used to save lives from fiery deaths were reminding me of sexy wet pictures of yourself. I could never quit you! What was I thinking!?
Glad to be back,
*Not true. Moon & I just discussed her future wedding on this very night. I kindly told her I would refuse to go unless I could be “that drunk wedding guest.” And she said she’d have Rob pay for the bar tab, since he’d be the groom and all. Wait. We talked about Rob. While talking about “life.” Shit. Moon. Would we be friends if we didn’t talk about Rob?