THE MOODY MAVEN

Dear AB — What Should I Do Now?

Gaslighting won’t feed the house, girl

Working late into the night, you might see my sillouette projected against the shade. Image by Mohamed Hassan from Pixabay

Some time ago, I posted a “Letter to Dear AB.” Not because I hoped to become a self help guru, but because I had received a few emails asking for advice.

I am sure my only appeal had been that my initials sound like the name of another woman that — as I understand it — is quite well known for helping people through their personal trials and tribulations.

I didn’t think much more of the scattered letters. And then I recieved another…

Dear AB,

Yesterday I went by a local deli to buy lunch for me and my boyfriend. We don’t eat out all that often, and I know that a deli is kinda not really eating out, but I just say this because it’s always a little special when we get take out.

Anyhoo —

The menu at the deli was posted on the wall behind the cashier. All the different sandwiches and sides of French fries and onion rings had photos up like some kind of foody high school yearbook pictures with prices listed. Every picture showed amazing sandwiches with generous amounts of meats and cheeses and fresh lettuce and tomatoes.

They looked so good I couldn’t wait to get our order home.

You could see right into the kitchen, too. There is all this chopping and calling out back and forth, and sandwiches getting rolled up in tight brown butcher paper wrappings like birthday presents. I got the feeling they loved making sandwiches as much as their customers should love to eat them.

I ordered two Italian hoagies and an order of French fries, and with my prizes in hand, I rushed home to share what I just knew would be a real “find.”

Anyway, to make a long story short, the sandwiches were mostly bread, the stingy amounts of deli meats and cheese kind of dripped with smooshy tomatoes. Even if there were enough to make the “large” I ordered, the fries were soft and greasy.

AB, what do we do when even sandwiches lie?

Signed, Feeling Betrayed

Dear Betrayed,

Girl, we all feel it these days.

Look at the bright side. You went out, right? And yes I know you had to be satisfied with bread and mushy fries, but maybe the journey was as important as the carbs and oils and other sundry calories without pleasure.

I hope your boyfriend appreciated your efforts. What am I saying? I know he did! And you still have each other.

But there are lines to peer between in your letter. Messages encrypted — words and feelings in those words left unwritten that nevertheless shout out in confusion and general malaise.

Because somehow I feel as if your story is reaching beyond nourishment and bringing up an indictment of society in general. One the one side of the aisle we have bread. And “at least you have bread” might be a rally call for starting over and getting better. But it’s still just bread.

On the other side of the aisle we have those mushy fries. You might hold your nose and tell yourself they can be the start of a warm meal — if they don’t sit behind the counter for too long, that is.

So when eating your bread and mush, does one somehow make the other better? Does one blame the other for there complete and utter disappointment in your meal? Or is switching between bland and boring just doubling down on yet another unsatisfying meal of processed carbs?

When our suppliers are bad, and they feed us pablum, we should not eat it. We should certainly not praise it. There is just no reason to settle.

Maybe even get a new cookbook.

But I ask you, Betrayed, when even sandwiches cannot be trusted, where do we turn? What can we do?

Then again, it’s just a sandwich.

Good luck to us all.

Love from the whole crew here at Dear AB!

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