the pink spoon theory

Early Fall 2004

No boys.

I didn't want to flirt. I didn't want to go for a walk. I didn't want to get coffee.

Leave me alone.

I wanted to teach, and study, and go to school, and enjoy my life - without the hassle of any kind of romantic distraction. That's what all of that butterflies and boy and first kiss business equaled in my estimation that fall - hassle.

Besides, my heart was still aching a bit over Greg, although I probably would never had admitted it, especially to myself. The campus reminded me of him, and I was always subtly conscious that the halls, restaurants and streets that I was frequenting was where we'd met. By the way, he had undoubtedly pink spooned me, although I was unaware of it at the time, blinded by his intelligence, charm and emotional transparency (or so I thought). Thinking back, I can't blame him. I'm sure it was a nice diversion. However, it would've been nice if I was on board too.

That's the thing about properly using the pink spoon theory - there are no tricks, no lies involved. You stay karmically clean while also avoiding stagnation and being bogged down.

So, with all of these things in mind, and mainly focusing on the fact that I was going to aggressively and completely avoid any romantic attachments of any kind, I got my new life underway. I arose at 5am, put on my waterproof mascara (sweating abounds when you teach aerobics and conditioning classes), went to campus, taught, studied, and went to class, just as I'd planned. The other graduate teachers had offices along the same two hallways and on the same floor. It wound up being a sort of voluntary dorm lifestyle - most of us were always there (I was averaging 12 hours a day on campus), and things moved slowly enough that an hour wasted watching funny videos online or discussing the meaning of life didn't put a damper on anyone's schedule.

I perfected my teaching style, came up with a new course for the department (yoga and Pilates, if you're curious), went kayaking alone every Saturday morning on Lake Alice with the gators (I miss that the most, and knew I would), and watched old movies as I made myself dinners for one on the rare nights that I spent alone in my apartment. I created a pyrotechnic wonder out of a glass pan once by accident too, which pretty much topped my danger scale (not counting the gators, which weren't actually dangerous), and was just as exciting as I wanted things to be. Thank goodness for old-fashioned deep kitchen sinks.

I made some fabulous girlfriends, and a guy friend or two. (perhaps there was a cuddle buddy involved that I thoroughly regretted for a while afterward, but we won't discuss that...) I refused to properly befriend any guy who was not in a serious, long term relationship that he was committed to.

That way, the option of romance didn't even exist.

Yep, that one sure did come back to bite me.