Our usual

Our usual

I was surprised and disappointed to see your number appear on my screen. I don’t have your contact saved anymore but I knew it was you. Why now? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t panic. I felt my stomach clench, my head spin, and my thoughts start to race. What the actual fuck? It felt like I could vomit so I poured myself a healthy serving of tequila.

My life is rich without you. It’s simpler in a lot of ways. Things with you were complicated. For me at least. I have everything I need and more, but seeing your number makes me feel like I’m missing something.

You put two words together and texted them to me. Bravo. What did you expect? Did you actually think I’d take you up on your offer? Were you hoping I’d respond in my way that I know you love so much? You said I ruined witty banter for you. You’ve never met anyone else like me? What were you thinking?

This is exactly why I love read receipts. I didn’t know how to respond but you know I saw it. There’s a time stamp to prove it and you know without a doubt that I chose to not respond. Even though I still want to. A wise man once told me the worst thing you can do to someone is ignore them. I don’t know who this is worse for, me or you. Does it even bother you?

Thank God for that wedding. A perfect distraction. Albeit, the thought of you crossed my mind more than once. Especially in the moments when I ducked out of the reception and took myself on a moonlit stroll through one of the most beautiful properties I’ve set foot on. I kept wishing you were there. We’d have a lot of fun as wedding dates.

In another life, I would’ve taken you up on your offer. I would’ve said yes to our usual bet and you would owe me dinner. Our usual. But things are different now and for the first time maybe ever, I don’t know what to say to you. Maybe you’ll get a taste of what it feels like to not know how someone feels about you.

I still wish you were here. I wish we were sitting here together looking out onto the ocean with nothing but time and a bottle of rosé. You’d love the view. Epic sunsets. The kind that I want(ed) to watch with you. But you’re not here, you’re there.

I keep reminding myself it’s better this way. I don’t need you and I hate the part of me that misses you. Until it’s gone, it will suck. But in response to your ridiculous, outlandish, out-of-nowhere question – if you wanted to take me out to dinner, you could’ve just asked. But I suppose that was never our usual.

What does it mean?

I had so much fun last night.
Life is good.
I had so much fun tonight.
It’s really good.
But I saw something this morning.
And I haven’t stopped thinking about it.
What does it mean?

I’m curious.
Does it matter?
I’m annoyed.
It shouldn’t matter.
Why does it bother me?
It’s weird.
What does it mean?
It’s fine.

I hate this.
I really liked you.
I don’t want this.
This sadness.
I don’t know what to do.
It is what it is.
Life goes on.
I hate social media.

I hate dating apps.
I’ve downloaded and deleted
no less than 3 times this week.
Is it just me?
What is wrong with me?
It doesn’t matter.
Why am I crying?
What does it mean?
I wish I didn’t care.
I feel like I might vomit.
My neighborhood stinks.
This is my life.
What does it mean?

Maybe people come and go.
Like seasons.
And that’s not a bad thing.
Let them go.
Learn something.
Move on.
It could be worse.
At least I was never married.
I can’t imagine getting married.
Whatever that means.
I’d rather run a marathon.
We talked about it.
Maybe I’ll run a marathon.
Where is that coming from?
I’m trying to run away from you.

I’m tired.
Let it rest.

I still wonder what it means.

Life is good.

I find myself saying it a lot. Believing it. Really meaning it. I’m making choices that keep things moving in the general direction of goodness. And you’re not a part of it anymore. Life is good.

It’s better this way. Without you. I remind myself a lot. It’s not what I wanted. I got what I didn’t know I needed.

I hope you find someone who is good to you. I hope you’re good to yourself. I hope you find something you never imagined so you’ll see a future that’s clear and a past that makes sense.

But if we ever meet again, I need you to know that life is good.

A Year at Work

A Year at Work

I have a confession to make.
This is the first job I’ve ever had for a year.
It’s a big deal to me.
It feels like an accomplishment.
I realize in the grand scheme of life,
a year is a flash in the pan
but I’m proud of myself.
I’m not used to saying that.

When I moved back to the city
I had no idea where my life was going.
I was still finding my footing,
gaining my bearings,
shedding my old skin.
People said I could do whatever I wanted.
If only I’d known what I wanted.
I applied for a lot of jobs
I thought I’d be good at.
Including an assistant editor position
but I should’ve proofread my cover letter
a little more carefully.
I interviewed for a lot of jobs
but nothing felt right.
It felt like I was pulling at loose ends.
Unraveling, again.
I started questioning my choice to move back.
I thought maybe I’d take another restaurant job.
I didn’t want to take another restaurant job.
One night while trolling Culinary Agents,
I saw it-
my dream job title.
Wine administrative assistant.
It seemed too good to be true.
It felt right.
I found what I didn’t even know I wanted.

Happy 1 year to us, Parcelle.
A year at work may not seem like much to most
but this is the most a job has ever meant to me.
Thank you.