sooo.. man, how do i even begin to do a recap? it's been, what, nine months?
i'll try my best:
i guess when we left off i'd just moved out of my amazing-even-by-new-york-standards apartment. things with the boy i was convinced i'd be sharing a bed with indefinitely came to a very definite end. i did the whole shut-in bit. didn't want to see anyone. didn't want to do anything. couldn't think/eat/sleep. drank a lot. watched a nauseating amount of old french films. listened to "never my love" by the association on repeat.
but there's nothing like being single in the summer in new york city to pull one out of a deep funk. and so this last summer was a complete blur of open bar parties at the soho grand, free shows at mccarren pool, trains to long island beaches, boys i'll hopefully never see again, massive amounts of vodka and blow, rolling through the city with an obscenely beautiful and intimidating pack of women, and an overall complete disregard for anything more than "where are we going next?"
i think that kind of heartbreak requires a certain amount of self-destruction. diving head-first into a messy disaster is, for me, an incredibly effective form of exorcism. Nothing like coming face to face with that seductive bitch who dares you to cross the line for real to bring everything you have to lose into sharp focus.
so i rekindled old love affairs with bad habits that i am slowly, very, very, slowly... very very slowly trying to put the breaks on. there was the inevitable, painful relapse somewhere around september when the boy i'd been trying to drink/snort/fuck out of my every waking though resurfaced with tears and promises and apologies. even now i'll admit that, even though i've told him that the locks have been changed and there's no coming home, i'd probably open the door if he knocked. but that's neither here nor there. he's not going to come knocking. that much is clear.
at any rate, i surrendered blindly; euphorically. and then i went to florence. he went to rome. and it became terribly clear that there would be no reconciliation. i sulked over drinks in the piazza di sant'ambrogio, sadly aware of the two hour train ride that would never be made.
and so, back in new york, i cut things off. made a real effort at getting on with it. accepted an unbelievably fantastic job offer with another agency in soho (in my interview i admitted that i had no experience but promised to prove myself to be a serious rockstar). Worked (still do) furiously. Was given a ridiculous raise and complete control over one of our biggest accounts in the first month, moved out of my six floor walkup that i shared with my lovely, but totally out of control best girl, and am now, one week into a new place with a real kitchen and a real bedroom and a sunlight! and a roof deck! and an honest-to-goodness livingroom with plenty of space for my barcelona chair!.... finally in the process of reconsidering the future. paying bills on time. saving money. just generally slowing down enough to actually pay attention to making things better as opposed to just making it through the day.
that's where we're at, more or less. fast forwarding through a decent little breakdown and finding myself in a very okay place. (which, i am not yet above mentioning, is more than we can say for the miserable ex).
hope you're all well. hugs and kisses.