of all the exorcisms i've done with your ghosts, still it's sunday morning i miss you the most

man what a roller coaster of a weekend involving good friends, good food, great wine and the return of the sparks. Friday began with a return email from the soccer chick, sad to have missed me when I was in SanFran because she was in San Diego. Spent the rest of the day wondering whether emailing with her is a giant step forward or two huge leaps backward and if i should let this new development influence the already tipping scales in my decision to possibly move to SanFran.

[For those of you who don't know, soccer chick is the oh so young one I dated for 4 months when I was in Boston, who I broke it off with because it was getting too serious and I had to choose between falling in love with her and my love for the now-ex; seeing how things turned out maybe I didn't make the best decision]

Friday night, after seeing Inside Deep Throat I headed to do some serious wine drinking at 'inoteca which is quickly becoming a second home to me. Good times.

Saturday evening began with me walking to the subway, open sparks in hand, continued with a multitude of stoli o's and cranberrys and spanned three bars in three different neighborhoods. Also a whole lot of matchmaking going on. Finally, stumbled into my apartment at 5:30 am.

Then sunday hit like a ton of bricks. I've been doing a decent job keeping myself busy, distracting myself in all kinds of ways, but Sunday mornings more than any other time I miss her. I want to hate her, I really want to be over this, but i'm not. And sometimes its really raw. Sunday was one of those days.