I’ve been masturdating for a while now, because (single) people must love themselves and eat out and stuff.
I love discovering new eateries (and new menu items at regular faves) & ordering straight away [because when you’re masturdating, there’s no pre-meal chatter, under table shuffles or whatever other wonderful, but not always, things that come with eating out with someone else]
I learn new things about myself and laugh out loud (It’s closer to chortling, really) at how I’m the silliest person I know, but I’m marvelous. I make mental notes of places I want to go, when and with who… I chart my life, then pause and breathe… because I’m a dreamer and that’s OK.
I have also used my masturdating to (re)teach myself the beauty of solitude and the beauty of me (and life with me)… because some time along the way, I’d started to lose that. I’d started to only appreciate myself if I was appreciated by others.
I’m masturdating because I *need* to love me more & I *need* to see myself through the eyes of someone who loves me – imagined or real.
I’ll continue to masturdate when I find some poor sap who for whatever reason sees my light & darkness, and loves them as much as I have and do.
I’ll continue to masturdate, because time with me is great and I, too, deserve that happiness. With me. Solitary me loves artisan burgers, grande cappuccinos, people-watching and writing on her own… on a Saturday.