OIL!

Last night I went to an Italian restaurant with my girlfriend Lauren. We were celebrating the end of a run of shows. (You probably heard about it. From me. Big Strong Boy. Anyway.) I enjoyed a Lamb Rigatoni, and Lauren had spaghetti with a sauce that included every known species of fish – I don’t remember exactly what it was called in Italian, but I know it roughly translated to ‘The Japanese Trawler’. The food was lovely, and the company perfect. But by the end of the meal I had covered myself in oil. You see, we were served bread with olive oil beforehand, and I had somehow drizzled it all over myself.

Like a child with a scraped knee, I refused any help, and sat damp in my own shame. The waitress offered me a stain remover that they had on hand, proof that I wasn’t alone in my failure, but I refused again. Lauren asked me why I refused any help. And the answer is simple, I am a human baby.

Asking for help is something I’ve been working on recently, making sure to reach out to people I trust. Even if things were under control, I’ve been asking people for help. But yet, in my most vulnerable, oil covered state, I reverted to my dumb ways. All I can do is look forward to the next time I’m covered in oil, or equally in need of help, and then reach out. All I can do is wait… if you see me out in the street, don’t be afraid to cover me in oil and facilitate an opportunity for emotional growth.