tales of a girl in the city

mars 12, 2004

From February 26:

Ok. Let's just get this out of the way.

I did it; it's done. After four months of being an Extraordinary Strong Wondergirl Valedictorian Beauty-Queen Genius who DID NOT HAVE ANY CONTACT WHATSOEVER with her ex-boyfriend, I gave in.

I emailed him.



First let's cover what this effort at contacting him was not.

It was not motivated by alcohol. It was not motivated by late-night loneliness. It was NOT a heartfelt epic poem that relied heavily on flower imagery or similes that compared my still-lingering love to an eternal flame. There was, in fact, no reference to love, still-lingering or otherwise. No flames.

Nor was it hate-mail.

Nor was there ever even an urge to make it hate-mail.


So that's the easy part: What it wasn't. Check.

Now we get to the harder part. What it WAS.

Well, this is what it SAID, "Hey M-- I'm going with a friend to a story slam tonight, and was thinking about you. Wondered if you ever got up to tell one of your stories? Tonight's topic is "stranded." When the topic is "children's theater," I wil be unstoppable. Would be good to hear from you, K."

I will totally own that the whole "going with a friend" thing was an unnecessary and blatant attempt at making him wonder whether or not I and this "friend" are currently engaging in hours and hours of carnal lovemaking, during which I frequently yell things like "You're so much better in bed than my last boyfriend!!!!". Fine. I admit it. Sue me.

The rest will take me some time to figure out. Which I'm going to do right now. With my friend, this huge martini.