Actually, forget that. Let’s not waste our time with meaningless pleasantries. Our acquaintanceship was as much out of necessity and courtesy as any could ever be. I loved her, and you moved yourself into her life practically overnight and settled your belongings, like a neighbor the co-op board barely approved of.
I have really good taste in book and movies, and then when it comes to music, I just sort of give up. When I start making a mix CD for a friend, I start off with a couple of good tracks by, say, The New Pornographers or someone — and then I start feeling an inevitable drift towards the shitty, shitty songs that I actually love. Then I start coming up with excuses in my head: “Maybe X also likes the Spice Girls,” I say to myself, knowing that this is not, in fact, the case.
I can’t say it has been easy learning to live without you. Heading into year three, I can say I have started to make real progress. I can talk about your death without crying. I can look people in the eye and tell them how you died. And now I finally feel like I can be honest with you. Okay, not with you per se, but I can be honest with myself about you.
Once you understand that you don’t have to get wasted, sleep with a random, and vomit in a trashcan to have a successful Friday night, you can actually get the good kind of drunk and have the good kind of fun. When people had Walks of Shame in college, they were actually secretly happy about it. Shaming was seen as a good thing.
You’re so bored. It’s six p.m. and there is nothing good on T.V. so you want to have sex with someone. Depending on your situation, you will either have to seek it out like a hunter. You will go to the bars and zero in on your prey, or you will have sex with someone who is required to have sex with you i.e. your GF/BF.
After college, you’re thrusted into the real world to Find A Job and Be Self Sufficient, and in turn, you become aware that the people in this world think binge drinking after college actually = alcoholism and a potential sign that one doesn’t have her shit together.
Other than peeking at the website, I wanted to be completely in the dark when I got to the performance, and lo and behold, it was literally pitch black as I entered the abandoned warehouse on West 27th Street. The experience began at the receptionist area where my boyfriend and I were handed two playing cards, him the ten of spades, and I the jack of diamonds.
In some ways, it’s more aggravating that I came so close to having a threesome. If it had never been a possibility, then I might never have cared. But to fly so close to the threesome sun, and then to fail, to fall… well, it makes me feel like Icarus.