The lactose intolerant can go to Starbucks®

“People will always have opinions about your decision because they’re not courageous enough to take action on their opinion.”
― Steve Maraboli

I made the mistake of sharing my gelateria concept, should I ever get to that point, with my best friend and sisters on 4th of July.  In return, I received opinions, opinions, opinions.

“Well, then you have to serve coffee and become a full café.  What about all the lactose intolerant people who can’t eat gelato?  You need to have something for them.  There are so many people who can’t eat gelato. You can’t just serve gelato.”

It’s great that I surround myself with amazing women who have strong beliefs and are unafraid to speak their minds, but sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could find a support system rather than a mob ready to mutilate my every hope, wish and dream, leaving them splayed and vivisected in the gutters of the street.

Fuck the lactose intolerant.

After the onslaught of comments, it’s been difficult for me to get back to the necessary preparatory work to make my dream  into a reality – my computer has sat, unused, on my kitchen table all week.  I know that I shouldn’t let this derail me.  There will always be the naysayers and detractors – the more negativity I hear, the more likely it is that I have a good concept.    But, the pessimism, especially from friends and family, deflates me like a balloon.

I don’t want to build this business in a bubble – I want opinions, but I need constructive opinions, opinions from experts who have been there and know what I’m talking about.  I want to ask a million questions of my restaurant-owning friends and of chef.  My sisters and friends, on the other hand, can tell me what they think of a flavor combination, once I’m fine tuning it, but, for now, I want them to keep their mouths shut.  Let me dream, let me research, let me explore, let me fine tune – and, unless you’re going to invest in it,  please keep your negative opinions to yourself.

Wrapped

Last weekend, in our chilly cabin in the woods, he would not let go of me as he slept.  We haven’t been so entwined since our first few nights together.  And back then, it was me (and not he) so wrapped (or rapt?).  His arm behind my head, his leg thrown over my thighs, a hand entwined, warm breath on my neck, I felt safe and wanted.

I woke to a bad dream this morning – a dream that left me rattled.  I needed those arms, that leg, his hand, his kiss of breath to soothe me, but my bed was empty.  I settled on a walk through the neighborhood to clear my head.  It helped just a little.

This dream has not left me, yet I’m afraid to say, “I need you tonight”, afraid to have him see me needy.  So I will wait until tomorrow, our usual night together, and wrap myself around him tighter still.