Truly, Madly, Like Me - Jo Watson Page 0,8
light, hoping to get a sense of what was inside. But the paper was thick and no matter how many times I angled it, I couldn’t see more than a vague outline of something.
“Whatever!” I pushed the envelope back into my bag because it was making me feel . . . feel what? I opened the mood-tracking app on my phone and started scrolling.
Angry. Annoyed. Anxious. Apathetic. Blah. Calm. Confused. Confident. Content. Cute. Depressed. Eager . . .
I sighed. All of the above. None of the above. The stuff in between? Maybe there wasn’t a name for the emotions I was feeling at the moment, or maybe they were spinning and cycling so quickly that from one moment to the next I didn’t know what I was feeling. A sudden sharp pain in my bladder told me that I’d ignored it for far too long, so I reached back into my bag and pulled something out. Purena Moisturizing Facial Wipes.
“Mmmm.” I turned the package over in my hands and read the ingredients. Not that I knew what any of them were, or whether they posed a serious threat to my lady parts. Not that that was necessarily a problem either, because that area wasn’t going to be getting much action anytime soon . . .
I paused, lowering the packet of facial wipes, trying hard to remember the last time that @TheKyleWhite101 and I’d had sex. I honestly couldn’t remember. It’s not like our relationship wasn’t filled with romance, though. We were very romantic! Very!
There was that time we went to a game lodge and took those photos of ourselves in the Jacuzzi, sipping champagne together. God, that had been a difficult picture to take because of the lighting and the soapy bubbles. But it had been soooo worth it: 10,000 likes!
And then there was that time we’d put red and white variegated rose petals on our bed. We’d made a giant heart with them and lain in the middle of it wearing matching fluffy white bathrobes and slippers. That photo had gotten 12,000 likes. So, it’s not like we weren’t romantic, but, still, I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had sex . . . or kissed, for that matter. Really kissed. Not just kissed for the camera, which we often did. Photos of him kissing me on the cheek cheekily got lots of likes, especially if I pulled a silly, cute face and made a peace sign. But it had been ages since we’d kissed. You know, the kind of kiss that melts your kneecaps and gives you pterodactyls in your stomach.
I sat there for a moment, looking down at the facial wipes and running over the relationship in my mind. The urge to look at my phone was overwhelming again. I wanted to know what #Kaige were doing so badly that my fingers tingled. This was the longest time in years I hadn’t posted anything on social media. Usually by this time of the day I would have Tweeted something inspirational and carefully crafted, choosing an appropriate and trending hashtag to accompany it. I would have Instagrammed my breakfast and some of my workout, today was #DumbbellDay after all. Kyle and I would already be thinking of a couple post for the evening, and I would have done some kind of cute Snap, and would be preparing for my weekly vlog. But it had been four days since I’d posted anything, and that feeling was almost unbearable. I’d been thinking nonstop about posting. Especially today. Under normal circumstances I might have taken an ironic photo of the car for Insta, #uglycars. I might have posted a time-lapse video of me driving through the Karoo. I might have Tweeted about feeling such a sense of peace in the great, vast expanse (even though that was a lie), and then Snapped a fun photo of myself on the side of the deserted road with a cute bunny ear filter. And maybe, for humor’s sake, I might have also done a whole Need a toilet stop but don’t have tissues! Think it’s okay to use #Purena #facial wipes? (I tag them in case they want to do a brand collab with me.) #methinking #girlproblems #roadtrip
My shoulders slumped. The feeling of emptiness in the pit of my stomach was acute, huge and vast, like a sinkhole pulling everything into it. But I couldn’t dwell, my bladder felt like it was going to explode. I climbed out of the car, not bothering to