Ever have an encounter that you thought you could essentially handle and then when it comes upon you, you've been prepping yourself by drinking glasses of wine on an empty stomach in a sparkly dress and catching up with your best friend and then you're finally confronted by a confusing slapdash of film shorts that may or *may very well not be* brilliant in any form and you run into your ex who you prepared for seeing for three months and even a few short hours before had spoke to on the phone and laughed about seeing each other and it was really, really weird and you felt like you had to explain why things were the way they were, or ended how they did, or where you are now and who you spend your time with instead, and all that comes out is some sort of broken whimper and an awkward joke and both of you leaving the party reeling?
No?
Oh, ok, just me then. This is why I need to stop dating, settle the hell down like the rest of my friends and start having babies. But then, I really, really like my apartment.
2 comments:
that sounds sad--what are you gonna do?
I'd probably love your apartment, too. You are brilliant.
Dating about like that just makes for more interesting stories, and I like your stories.
Babies are kind of a longish commitment. For me, it'd be a phase I'd have of wanting them, and then I'd want to get over it, but I couldn't take it back, so then the rest of my life I'd just wait for it to go back to the way it was before those rugrats cramped my steez. Nah, you don't seem the type.
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