Meat on a Stick

Nick took me out for supper last night. We’ve been working through some ongoing problems and after several verrrrry painful conversations, I think he’s starting to understand some of my reactions. It’s hard for both of us. I’m not very good at opening up about my “weaker” emotions. I hate losing face, hate admitting that I’m sad or hurt or need comfort. But I do need comfort and kindness, and most of my close friends have learned to recognize this and give it to me even when I’m bluffing about feeling fine and that I’m way too tough to be hurt by anything. This requires a lot of intuition and empathy. And Nick is has very little of either. And this is the root of about 75% of our problems.

However, we’re both working on this (me on opening up, him on being more empathetic), and things are improving. Which brings us back to going out for dinner, something I love doing but Nick is pretty apathetic about, so in doing so he’s trying to help create a better balance in the give-and-take of our activities.

So dinner. It was oh-so yummy. We ate at a Turkish place, which is very similar to most Mediterranean cuisines; lots of lean meats all grilled shish-kabab style (mmmm... meat on a stick never tasted so good), salads dressed with lemon and olive oil, dips made with beans and cheeses and olive oil, and everything seasoned with amazing spice combonations. All-in-all, very healthful.

However, I overindulged. Not to the same degree that I would have in the past, but I still left feeling a little uncomfortable. It was all so delicious, I kept having another bite, and then another, and then another… I have no regrets, but I do think that next time (and there will be a next time), I may suggest forgoing the mixed appetizer plate and just get one or two things because part of my problem was that I wanted to taste everything.