The Hunger

It was 1 a.m.

I was tossing and turning in bed (alone) unable to sleep. After having lost Heidi I wasn't sure what to expect. Yeah - I'm getting pretty good at being dumped.

There was an emptiness in the pit of my stomach. A yearning I hadn't felt in what seems like years.

I was hungry. Not just able to eat. Not just a biological reaction to low blood sugar. It was a sensuous desire for food. I hadn't felt this since the ugliness.

I wandered over the the refrigerator. There was some left over grilled NY steak. I had some good crusty italian bread. Steak sandwich it is.

One thing that a good sandwich needs is a good mayonaise. I cracked an egg and whipped up the yolk up with canola oil and fresh lemon juice. I put in some fresh grated horseradish and capers. Yes, I really made a horseradish caper mayo from scratch for a midnight snack. I'm that much of a foodie.

Then I heated up my cast iron skillet and toasted two slices of bread, after brushing them with olive oil. Then I sliced the steak as thin as I could. I bunched it up - almost into a burger like form - and gave it a good sear on the outside. There was still lots of juicy medium rare steak in the middle. During the searing process I melted some sharp white vermont cheddar on it.

I topped the meat with some baby arugula, a few slices of tomato, a small splash of balsamic vinegar (from these guys - really good) and some very thinly sliced red onion.

I opened a bottle of Bordeaux and started into my snack. Damn that's good. I haven't enjoyed food this much in such a long time.
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I did drag my sleepy butt out of bed at stupid-o-clock in the morning to go paddling with paddle girl. I missed her party on Friday night, but we still had our standing 5:30 a.m. paddle in Santa Cruz on Sunday morning. I really feel better about this now that I know that she is over 18.

I arrived at the dock and, as usual, there she was stretching.

"Hey"

"Ready for some pain?"

"Yeah - I could use a good workout."

"How's big boobs?"

"Uh, her name's Heidi."

"OK, how's Heidi?"

"She dumped me."

"Man, I'm sorry to hear that. That sucks. What happened?"

"It's complicated." I busied myself with getting the boat set up. "So, why'd you lie?" The irony of that question was not lost on me.

"Huh?"

"Why'd you lie?"

"About what?"

"Being 17."

"Oh. Uh, that. Busted, huh?"

"It doesn't really matter, but I'm just curious. I mean you don't even look 17. I don't care how old you are. So why?"

"I've been paddling since I was 12. Competing since 14. This is a very male dominated sport - lots of testosterone. Paddlers are always hitting on me. Older guys - well the creepy ones - tend to leave me alone if I tell 'em I'm 17. Learned it when I was young - it worked so I kept on doing it. You're right, I'm probably getting too old for that trick."

Uh, yeah, that means I look like one of the creepy ones. "You could try just saying 'not interested'"

"Guys can be really persistent."

I laughed, "This is true."

"How'd you figure it out?" She asked.

"Google - I googled your paddling club to see about the party, saw your records. You paddled at the world championships 2 years ago?"

"Yeah, that was awesome." She regaled me with stories of her competitions - pretty cool. Turns out she just missed making the olympic team in 2008. But the U.S. does not field a very competitive paddling team. The Germans really dominate the sport. The Americans rarely make it to finals.

We paddled for 6 miles and I got a really good workout.

As we were packing up to leave, she asked "Next week?"

"Yeah." And then I remembered. "No, I can't - I'm in Tokyo next weekend." She seemed surprised that I might have a job that would take me to Tokyo. (surprised, mind you - not impressed) "Maybe the weekend after. I'll call you."