Don't Worry Ma, I Still Have My Sense of Humor
For the last few weeks, I have been trying to get my stuff back from my ex. I vaguely remembered leaving a Harry Potter book in an attempt to get him to read it (he didn't!!!) and especially wanting it back because it was my sister's book. But mostly, I forgot all about the other things. I wanted some sort of closure but who doesn't? So it was kind of annoying that it kept dragging on - and my friends asked, "Do you really need your stuff back?" To which I replied that that wasn't the point. It was the principal! Duh.
So this evening, the day had finally come when we were to meet. As I opened the bag (following 20 minutes of awkward conversation interrupted by Oscar's frequent attacks (I didn't train him, I swear!!)) - I realized... it was about my stuff! Well mostly... Stuff I totally forgot he had. Holy crap. I feel whole again as I leaf through my "150 Ways to Tell if You're Ghetto" book. I can now have a cathartic release watching old episodes of Sex and The City (yeah, he wouldn't watch those either). And realize that like the early history of New York City, my love life (and self) is constantly evolving but will eventually grow into something great. All the while asking myself One Hundred Questions so I can truly figure out who I am and what I want... Okay, so it did take a plate of penné allá vodka and glass of red wine to come to this happy conclusion. But c'est la vie.