Date night

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I came home skipping. My first date night in a while, and there was definitely a connection. I even enacted my don't kiss on the first date rule, which I only do when I don't want to screw something up. I called my mother, anxious to tell her about my day, but I had to wait. I understood, she had things that she had to tell my grandparents. Things about money and jobs, step parents, and disappointments. Listening in, I couldn't help the rush of invasive thoughts that came into my head. Thinking about money and love, and the fact that my evil stepmother continued to be evil, I went down to bake a mothers day cake. I had spent money on getting the perfect little gifts for the important mothers in my life, and as I mixed up the chocolaty mix, eggs, and vegetable oil, the thoughts continued to poke at me. Does money = love? I'm not talking about sugar daddies or gold diggers, I'm talking about providing for others. I have my savings, but I've never been rich, I've never been able to buy everything I wanted. I would like to think that money doesn't matter, but money gets us what we need, and if you have and don't provide, does that mean you really love someone? I mean, love them so much that you wouldn't be able to handle seeing them not get something they need? Wouldn't you want to work as hard as you can to see them have that and more? My cake batter looks perfect, and after a quick dip and lick of my finger, I see that it tastes just as good. Stick it in the oven, set the timer for twenty five minutes; time to make the frosting. Running the mixer for four minutes, getting the cream fluffy to place into the freezer. I can hear that my mom is still talking loudly up in the room so I stay put downstairs. I know I'm not supposed to hear what she thinks, she doesn't want to taint the image of loving parents, but I know and I understand more than she thinks. I don't tell her though, because I don't want to taint her image of a still innocent little girl, of what is left of one anyways. Pulling my new dress, got it on sale (only 12 dollars!), and begin to wrap the sweater for my grandma and the earrings for my aunt. I reminisce on my date, and how much I laughed. How much I wanted the subway ride to last longer, and how I am sure he felt the same way. But my mind won't stay focused from questioning those things that had to be told. And going back home to those things. And back to wondering if someone loves me and if I love me. While I change into my pajamas, I take down my hair, and remove my makeup. Date night is over, and it's time to go decorate the cake.

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