The Inner Workings of a Sex and Love Addict Series
I was in the depth of my busy time at work, 70+ hours a week with a 2 hour commute each day. Work was my life temporarily but life didn’t stop just because work was demanding. My grandpa was having heart surgery and my cat of 16 years just received a terminal diagnosis (at least in my mind — her fate still unknown as of yet). As my stress levels peaked my brain started malfunctioning.
My brain will use whatever means it has to calm me down. Unfortunately it had limited resources as I swore off social media (again!) and only came in contact with the inside of my office and the 75 miles on the road each day. And that is how I found myself attracted to cars.
Driving to work I took notice of the cars I was stuck behind in bumper to bumper traffic. In front me was a Toyota Tundra with oversized tires, completely black. Not the ghetto-home-do-it-yourself-spray-can-version black but the truly professional kind. Flat black bumper and wheels. On my right was a Dodge Charger, also entirely black. I imagined who’d be driving them. In both, he was sexy with an edge to him. Dark hair. Tan skin. Brown eyes. He was perfect for me, and we’d have a torrid affair.
Somewhere along the way I crossed a line. And on the other side of that line I was turned on by cars. Cars. Sometimes my brain was just a fucked up place to be. Fucked up but never dull. I recognized the absurdity — that my brain wanted to ease the displeasure of stress by falling in lust with a car — and I laughed at myself. Because what else was there to do short of pursuing the sexy, black hunk of metal and tossing my number in its open window at the next red light?