“I don’t know. That’s a good question. A lot of these companies getting funding seem to have high pandemic product demand and are well-established firms.”
“Not a single small entrepreneur on the list,” I murmur, scanning for other names that I know are in the same boat.
“Why do you think that is?”
“I think VC firms are covering their asses in case the market tanks. I think they are fucking cowards if they can’t see that products from small companies, women-owned companies, POC companies are just as valuable to a stable market.”
“Have you been pitching your product as a quarantine-specific health device?”
“Health aides for stress relief of all kinds deserve funding right now. If people can’t connect the dots between being stuck at home, afraid to breathe around other humans, and needing a device to help fill the gap, so to speak, they are idiots.”
“Can I quote you on that?” Dash asks with a laugh.
“I don’t even care anymore. This has been such an uphill battle from the start.” I futilely press my palms against my eyes to stem the burning before it can summon tears. I’ve cried enough today. “Why would I expect it to get easier the farther in I wade?”
“Because you’ve made so many gains! Don’t lose sight of the goal line just because the hits keep coming. The product you are making is so important, not just for women, but for everyone who wants to have better sex! We just need the right pitch to get people to take notice.”
Dash rubs a hand on my back, and I cannot deny how good it feels to have someone on my side. But I’m exhausted. I don’t know how many different ways I can pivot and not lose sight of my plans. I’m dizzy just thinking about it.
“I’m just so tired.” I drop my head onto his shoulder, too exhausted to even engage with his pep talk.
“Why don’t you go to bed early? You’ve been up late all week. Maybe it’ll feel more manageable after a good night’s sleep.”
“Are you going to join me?” I ask hopefully. There is nothing better at shutting down my brain and relaxing my body than an orgasm from Dash. I think my MiO might be too triggering tonight.
“I need to finish this article, ride the wave of inspiration. But I can certainly wake you up when I come to bed.” Dash wiggles his eyebrows.
Honestly, I probably need the uninterrupted sleep more, but I give him a knowing smile anyway as I head for bed.
When I wake the next morning, the first thing I register is that I did indeed sleep through the entire night. No lingering O buzz, no tiredness from being woken up, no stubble rash on my neck or chest. Just a brain tired from chasing itself all night and a body that miraculously doesn’t want to immediately sink back into the mattress. My happiness over decent sleep is tempered slightly by the knowledge that Dash hadn’t woken me.
I roll and discover his side of the bed undisturbed.
Had he even come to bed at all?
I wander into the living room, still rubbing sleep from my eyes, to find him on the couch, headphones on, engrossed in a video game. He doesn’t look away from the TV, doesn’t even register my presence in the room.At least he didn’t leave.
Even as I think it, the irrationality of that fear hits me. Where is he going to go?
Just because other partners had retreated in the face of my need for control and order doesn’t mean he will.
This is his job. He reviews video games so it stands to reason he needs to play them to give adequate feedback. He is just being as focused on his career as I am.Except he isn’t reviewing games right now, is he?
He is not required to come at my beck and call. His time is his own.But it would have been nice if he showed up when he said he would.
I told him I was going to bed. He knew I was tired. He was respecting my space!Which would have been fine if I hadn’t been counting on him pounding the stressful thoughts right out of my head.
I continue arguing with my inner bitch as I retreat to the shower. The warm water sluices down my skin, and I let my worries wash right down the drain with the soapsuds.
Enough.
Today is a fresh start, a new opportunity to thrive, another day with Dash. I dry and dress, donning full makeup and professional attire for another day hunting for funding. I may have been beaten yesterday, but I’m not giving up on my dream that easily.
Primed and ready for caffeine, I go back to the kitchen in search of coffee. I stutter a step at the plate in the sink and the bags of snacks left out on the counter. There is even a stale beer on the table. I deliberately set aside that conversation for later and make my first cup of coffee for the day. I drop the beer in the sink and get my workspace at the table organized, making sure my background is nicely arranged. I don’t like using the green screen ones, for all that Dash might tout them. I might have to work from home, but I am determined to present as professional an image as possible.
As a female CEO at the helm of my first company, I already have enough strikes against me. Looking sloppy or unprofessional is not allowed.
With my coffee in hand, I walk into the living room to see if Dash has come up for air yet. He startles and yelps when he sees me, which in turn startles me, shaking my still full coffee mug and spilling piping hot brown liquid down the front of my blouse and onto the floor.Fuck!Another mess to clean up before I can even start my day.