How do I find tears at the end of a nearly perfect day?
I’m sitting at my computer at 11:20 PM and am searching for kleenex or a hankerchief. What happened? It was my day off. I got up, put on my sandles (code for not working) and headed to the shop for an hour to prep things for my staff.
I came home and posted on New York’s Craigslist. I offered to write personal ads for men seeking women. The requests started pouring in almost immediately. I wrote a couple for my boston folks and then got on the brown line to go to the loop.
I met my friend Matt, former supervisor, in the lobby of the old office and we headed to lunch. We wandered around until we found ourselves at Giordano’s Pizza. We got a couple sodas and a pizza and caught up about everything. Matt and I have gone from talking everyday while I was in London, to not talking since I left IES on April 30–so there was a lot to talk about.
Then I went to Old Navy to see about some work shirts. I found out that I am now a LARGE at Old Navy. I no longer have to wear their largest size, but Large. Large is followed by Extra Large and Extra Extra Large. I am not an XXL, but a comfortable Large.
Then it is back on the El. I came home to many requests for help with personal ads from men in New York and a couple in Seattle. I started writing and wrote until the phone startled me at 4:45. SHIT. It was Geoff, but that meant I wasn’t showered for my dinner plans at 5PM down at Clark and Belmont.
Geoff and I talked briefly, he’d bought the Esquire. And then I called Andrew and hopped in the shower. I met Andrew, a college friend, and his sis and future brother in law and we went to my favorite sushi place in Chicago. It was great to catch up with Andrew and get to know his sister.
I walked them up to the Metro and we made plans to meet up after the show. I couldn’t get tickets. So, I hop on the El and come home and write more ads for men in New York. Then at 10:30, Andrew calls and cancels. After the show, he got in a cab and went to Ukranian Village instead of meeting me in Lincoln Square. We then had an akward conversation about me coming down there, but the gaps in the “sure, come on down” and the “yeah, you should come” where at least three car garages. For whatever reason, plans had changed.
I’m sitting here, looking at my phone, crying. Our plans to have dinner and hang out all night got cut short and then shorter and then aborted. But I’m really crying about Nate. Six months later, still crying about Nate. 6 months after a non-relationship ended and I’m still crying about Nate. Enough.