The anxiety is crippling. Like I’m being choked. Disappointment is palpable. And it’s all I can do to not fall into a rabbit hole of my own making. Of my sadness. Even now, just the thought takes over my body.
It. Is. Exhausting.
Where did he go? Where did I go?
Last night as I stood on my pretty great wood floors in my pretty great Cambridge apartment that I share with a pretty great woman, I started to prepare myself dinner. And then I thought about what a privilege that was. To have the time. To have the means. To not have to consult with anyone about whether or not they wanted mushroom black bean quesadillas. To not have to make enough for two. Or three. Or four. Or to make enough for two (or three or four) and then get to eat it all myself. And that I could eat it while laying on the couch while watching Breaking Bad (yes I still haven’t finished Season 5) wearing leggings, some
weird Jim Beam socks, and a tank top.
as he led her through the bar. It was a gentle touch of hand to her upper back, but the gesture was enough to signal to the crowd, to me, that he was protecting her, that they shared a history, and possibly a future. I noticed him, her, the touch. He did not notice me. Continue reading
When I was little I would play cards with my Gram for hours. We once played a game of Crazy Eights that lasted three hours because neither one of us would admit defeat. She taught me a love of games. With that, I think, came a bit of a love of winning. Because she taught me not to give up. Continue reading
Sometimes you just need one. Continue reading
I can’t remember my first time at a bar alone. It was most likely in London as that was where I discovered the wonderful sense of freedom and excitement that came with going out by myself; whether it be to a show, a movie, a restaurant, or my local.