I wish you hadn't stopped to say hello and have meaningless conversation for a few minutes while he got your food to go. I wish you hadn't tapped me on the shoulder to make it a point to say how weird it was that we just ran into each other. I wish you hadn't seen me and I could've avoided having to force a handshake from whoever the fuck that was. I wish you and I hadn't had the same idea tonight. I wish you hadn't moved to hug me because you did and I did. I wish you hadn't said anything about the things I used to get excited about for you.
I wish I hadn't seen you tonight.
Of course I miss you, dummy. But I wish I hadn't seen you tonight.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Who's YOUR Friend?
Does it ever happen to you as you're watching some porn, of whichever variety you like (and don't pretend you don't have a prefers porn sub-category, please), and as you're skimming through, say, a contact sheet of a particular movie, you stop, and maybe gasp, and think to yourself, "HOLYSHITFUCK IS THAT SOMEONE I KNOW?!?"?
No?
Happened last night. Twice. Of course I downloaded it...just to make sure it WASN'T anyone I knew (and it wasn't). For a moment I thought, what if it was?
No?
Happened last night. Twice. Of course I downloaded it...just to make sure it WASN'T anyone I knew (and it wasn't). For a moment I thought, what if it was?
Monday, October 11, 2010
Work
About four weeks into the new gig, I'm coming up with a few things that seem to relate pretty much to every single job I've ever had:
- I think I'm better than my bosses at what they do.
- I think I'm better than my peers at what we do.
- I think the youngsters at work are basically in the way.
- I hate nicknames.
- I am not a cheerleader.
- younger Hispanic girls are a necessary distraction.
- if my co-workers can't lift forty pounds, they're useless.
- I rock.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Post-Breakup Breakup
Last year during summer, after our first break up, he stopped talking to me. He sent me what I thought was a terribly irrational text and that was that. Just a scant minutes afterward, in West Hollywood, where I was staying for the day, he sent me another saying he'd seen me in the street but didn't want to say hello. He wished me luck or some such. Then, angry, I wrote this.
It would be months later that we finally spoke again. And he apologized for that day, for having this expectation of me, after we were broken up, that I would still do boyfriend-like things. Which, after several conversations with my best friend, I figured was the issue. Whatever. We were good after that.
Now, after the second break up, he and I have not spoken in about a month. I'm not entirely certain why that is, frankly. At this point, like before, I don't really care. Like before, we're broken up, we have about a good week of electronic communication, made plans to see each other and did, and now, after, nothing. Last thing was I sent him a text about how weird it was we hadn't spoken in a couple of days. Now, here I am. I don't even know why I sent him that. Not because I didn't want to talk to him (I did). Then, a week later, this.
Sometimes I wonder why folk bother on dating if, even when things go south, this is where it leads you after a break up. Don't fucking understand.
And I'm thinking about it because Jodi and I were walking through Naples last night and we were talking about dating and friendships and I'm thinking, suddenly perhaps, 'well, what the fuck happened or didn't happen?' Which is very unfortunate for me, of course. I mean, he's a great person to know. But what can I do? I'm not the type to run after the runaway train I must be on. Must be on, not want to be on.
And silly me for telling him that I was going to be irrational for a few days after the breakup.
It would be months later that we finally spoke again. And he apologized for that day, for having this expectation of me, after we were broken up, that I would still do boyfriend-like things. Which, after several conversations with my best friend, I figured was the issue. Whatever. We were good after that.
Now, after the second break up, he and I have not spoken in about a month. I'm not entirely certain why that is, frankly. At this point, like before, I don't really care. Like before, we're broken up, we have about a good week of electronic communication, made plans to see each other and did, and now, after, nothing. Last thing was I sent him a text about how weird it was we hadn't spoken in a couple of days. Now, here I am. I don't even know why I sent him that. Not because I didn't want to talk to him (I did). Then, a week later, this.
Sometimes I wonder why folk bother on dating if, even when things go south, this is where it leads you after a break up. Don't fucking understand.
And I'm thinking about it because Jodi and I were walking through Naples last night and we were talking about dating and friendships and I'm thinking, suddenly perhaps, 'well, what the fuck happened or didn't happen?' Which is very unfortunate for me, of course. I mean, he's a great person to know. But what can I do? I'm not the type to run after the runaway train I must be on. Must be on, not want to be on.
And silly me for telling him that I was going to be irrational for a few days after the breakup.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Results
Three years ago it was late in the week. I left work early to go down to my doctor's office. This was after he'd already called me to talk about what my blood test results had revealed. And I'd gone to work for a few days between then and my appointment. I wasn't feeling particularly self-destructive, which I'm glad for considering my own prehistory with that. But I remember, afterward, sitting in my car, you know, in the doctor's office's parking lot, in silence but for the sound of traffic and the sun, looking over these papers, thinking why this had happened. Not how, but why.
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