It’s not that I’m so smart, it’s just that I stay with problems longer. -Albert Einstein
1. The “Achilles Heel” Of Everyone’s Psyche. This weekend I relearned one of the most valuable lessons of my life… that life in general is totally subject to our past experiences and the patterns they form. I suppose by the time we all reach adulthood we’ve all had our fair share of falls, mistakes, slip-ups, letdowns, and disappointment. It’s the way we interpret and digest the most difficult situations that seems to set the tone for the way we handle the mild and moderate disappointments of the future. This weekend I experienced a pretty uncomfortable scenario with Boyfriend (probably only like a 5 on a scale of 1-10, 10 being soul-grinding), but because it smelled faintly of a situation I had encountered just a couple years earlier that was more like a 9 on that scale, it got pretty crappy pretty fast. Suffering in the present for the pain of the past is a huge mistake.
2. The Details. I go back and forth on the topic of whether I think life is in the details or in the broader, bigger picture… and the truth is that I think my internal jury is still out on that one. Some days it’s all the little things that make me smile, and other days I feel like my smiles come mostly from looking at things on a grander scale and marveling at all the goodness lumped together. Today, I’m not sure which it is. It might be some combo of the two, but I’m somehow pleased with myself for this latest mistake. I’m pleased because I think for the first time (ever), I’ve decided to actually acknowledge that I have no intention of bringing the crap from the past anywhere near my present or future, ever again. Realistically, that’s easier said than done, but I look at this whole scenario as an exercise that’s better accomplished sooner rather than later. Whether Boyfriend chooses to see it the same way or not, who knows (and I suppose only time will tell), but either way I’ve been given the opportunity to look at things in a newly liberated light… and I like that.
3. Yeah, I’m Pretty Cool. Friday was the crappy day in relationship land, and by the time the sun had set I thought I’d get a head start on the next day by going to the ATM to get some money for the babysitter. I asked Gay Gary if he wanted to take a stroll with me in my funk (he lives just a few blocks away), and he obviously obliged. I’m not sure this fabulous fairy was impressed with my ballet flats, leggings, and braless sweatshirt ensemble… especially because most of my makeup had worn off by that point as well. But we walked to the bank, talked about life and love, and by the time I got money out Gary had convinced me to sit at a nearby McDonald’s with him for a meal. Now, McDonald’s certainly isn’t my top choice in eateries, but I hadn’t eaten in what felt like a gazillion hours and Gary seemed all-too excited to enter the golden arches. So we went. I had a cup of oatmeal that tasted more like grainy sugar with a few lumps of apples, took off my jacket (to better expose my braless self to my gayest friend), and we continued our talk at the chic McDonald’s in lower Manhattan at 10:30 PM on a Friday night. Now, if this whole picture doesn’t seem classy enough, don’t worry- it gets better. At some point in the middle of Gary telling me about his latest batch of exclusive lovers, I noticed neon lights out of the corner of my eye. Then Gary shouted out, “OMG, there’s a big engraved sign that says ‘Orchid Room’ seating upstairs!?” The Orchid Room? A swanky nightclub in the McDonald’s? No, it was just an upper level, coated generously in neon signage, ficus trees, and discarded straw wrappers. It came complete with a group of somewhat wild Jersey girls with horrendously teased hair, stretchy dresses a la 2004, too much Mariah Carey perfume, and purses made of glittery water-resistant fabric. Gary and I immediately recognized the ridiculousness of this whole encounter and decided that the only way to drastically improve the quality of the night (and immediately so), would be to change our facebook statuses to “At the Orchid Room having the best dinner of my life.” And I think the best part of the story is that several people “liked” the statuses, assuming that we were somewhere ultra hip, trendy, and hard to get a reservation at.
4. I’m Pretty Damn Lucky. By Saturday life had sort of returned to normal and I was out and about all over town with Ben. We had the most fun we’ve had in ages- we made funny faces, ate burgers together for the first time, played in the park in the sunshine, flirted with older girls (they were about 5), tried out every swing set in NYC to my knowledge, attempted a game of pool (btw, as it turns out, that’s not a great game for toddlers), hung out with friends (who are now at the point of getting the titles “Uncle” and “Aunt” in front of their names), and discovered new real estate options as a team. It was blissful!
