lundi 15 mai 2006

You know you go out a lot when...


There's nothing quite like the season's first bowl of cherries.

One of your old favourite wine bars, to which you haven't been in over a year and a half, opens a new outpost much closer to your current place of residence. You go in with a friend, and both bartenders (individually) come up to you (at different points in the evening) and ask you where you've been, it's been so long since they've seen you at the older location.

Also, it's only taken my ex - the one who just moved into my apartment complex - two-and-a-half months to get in touch with me after a long silence (probably spurred on by the fact that I refused his dinner invites five times in a row, and in fact, have not seen him since he moved to LA except for that one time when he came over to borrow scissors and I was busy gossiping on the phone with one of my friends. I did not ask him to move here either, so it's not my fault. When he asked me whether he should move to NY or LA, obviously I'd say LA. It didn't mean that I actually wanted him here). Of course, text messages were flying fast and furious until he asked what I was doing that night, and I told him I was on my way to a party, and he more or less stopped texting. Idiot. Doesn't he know that those college nights (where I was a stupid idiot in love with his deltoids - oh, but you had to see them, you'd understand why I was a stupid idiot for so long) are long gone, and that I will never be stupid enough to hook up with him ever again*? Jackass.

*Caveat: He apologises profusely for all the wrongs he's committed towards me, and more. Much much much much more. And that still probably won't be enough. Especially since those marvelous delts are long gone too.