You know when you get that craving for chocolate? Try as you might to take your mind off it - pop the TV on, re-read that paragraph you've been going over for the past 20 minutes, scrub your kitchen floors (actually, I never do that) - the craving just won't go away. It follows you around, nagging, it consumes you, you become tense, tetchy, close to actual, physical pain.
It's been happening to me lately. But not chocolate (I almost wish it was chocolate, at least I could damn the waistline and give in to the supermarket to make myself feel better). No, it is contact I crave. With humans. Who are not on my television. Or in my book.
Physical contact, for one. I'm a touchy-feely kind of gal (there's that American side, again), and I need to hug, hold hands, cuddle, kiss, play little-spoon-big-spoon, anything to make me feel like I'm connecting with someone. Diana the dog from the shop downstairs is obliging with the occasional embrace, but she belongs to someone else. I'm worried I may start molesting people in the metro soon. Which would be unseemly, and I'd probably get arrested. Or my ass kicked. But I suppose that's contact...
And I also crave virtual contact. Phone calls. Mail (bills and advertisements don't count). Emails. From anyone, really, I don't mind. It would be nice if the people I sent flatshare requests to wrote back to me. Or if someone sent me a Christmas card. Or just called to say hi and to see how I'm doing.
Don't get me wrong. People do call. They even drop by sometimes. Some friends have been particularly good at keeping me connected to the outside world while I procrastinate here alone in my apartment, living the "writer's life". But the problem is, the craving has gotten so intense that five minutes after one phone call, I'm already waiting for more. I click refresh on my email account over and over again. I check my mailbox three times a day. Every hour I look to see if my phone is still working. I try to make friends with people in the supermarket.
No wonder writers have a history of losing their minds. It's only a matter of time before I become once of these crazy old women you see wandering the streets all dressed up in their finery with crazy hair and makeup accosting Christmas shoppers. If one of those shoppers is you, I beg you, won't you stop for a chat?