Bitter Cynical Rants from One as Snarky as Waldorf and As Sexy as Statler.

Monday, February 28, 2005

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.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

save us all the trouble and shut up

1:05 PM

 

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