whatever was there, is gone

i went out to dinner with #1 tonight. a piece of me thought we'd be ok. the rest of me knew it was over.

dear #1,

tonight we talked about the weather. tonight we talked about the world series. tonight our conversation was so on the surface i told you bold-faced lies, that once upon a time you would have called me on. tonight felt like a really bad first date. except it was with you. you who is supposed to know me better than anyone else in the whole wide world. and who i am supposed to know just as well. but we were like strangers. and once again, my heart broke.

so now it's time to say goodbye. goodbye to the you that i was hanging on to. to the us i was hanging on to. and to the me i that hung on to it all.

the things i miss about you (about us) have been gone for a long time, but i've always held onto them. i can barely remember them. but i know they exist. i couldn't have imagined them. and the hardest part is thinking that you don't remember them. that you don't miss me.

so here it is. i honestly wish you the best. i hope you are happy and i hope you continue to find happiness. for the past year i've been wishing, and hoping, and dreaming that we'd find a way back to who we were, but it's clear, we won't. i'll miss you forever but i can't miss you everyday anymore. i can't hope, or dream, or wish anymore. i can only know. and what i know is that it's over.

i won't be your friend anymore. i can't be. i can't walk around with half a heart. i need your half back. and i'm taking it.

so i hope the next time we speak there's been some unusual weather.

goodbye to you.

22 days

it has been 18 days since i've seen or spoken to #1. before that it was 27 days. it's not as hard as it used to be. and my heart isn't breaking anymore.

Page 2 cont...

I didn't wait for Ry to say anything back. And besides, he knows that me hanging up on people isn't a reflection (necessarily) of how I feel about them. It's just that hanging up on someone stops the conversation, and if you do it abruptly enough, you can pretend the whole thing never happened. Everything that begins has to end, but if you avoid the official ending (i.e. saying goodbye) one could argue it didn't really begin and so it never really happened. I can do wonders with this kind of logic.

Click.

I turned to Jaclyn. "He proposed to her. Seriously."
"Quiz, are you OK?" she said.
Honestly, I didn't really know what I was. I mean, He and I had never "officially" been boyfriend/girlfriend. He never told me, "I love you," or introduced me to anyone as anything other than "my best friend, Quiz," But that didn't change the fact that for 10 years, he was the man in my life. That we went out to dinner, and snuggled under the blankets on his parents couch on breaks in college, and kissed, and did more than kiss, and held hands, and played miniature golf, and double and triple dated with our friends. That in the times I showed interest in or dated someone else, he was so jealous he'd cut me out and only learn about the eventual and inevitable end of my affairs from Ry. For all intents and purposes, he was my boyfriend. It's just that, I was never his girlfriend. He had real girlfriends. Several of them. But it always seemed that he found his way back to me. I thought it was because we were meant to be. Because we had one of those tragically romantic the-timing-is-just-not-right-but-in-the-end-we'll-find-each other stories, like in the movies. That one day, after months years of not seeing each other or speaking, we'd run into each other walking down the street and he'd see it. He'd realize that it had always been me. And after professing his love in a long, heartfelt, but clumsy speech, I'd try to walk away, furious of course, but he'd grab my arm and I would throw myself into his sobbing tears of joy! Though, I should confess that the ending has changed in the past few years. Now, I'm walking with my perfect wonderful boyfriend/fiance/husband and when He sees us laughing and the wind is knocked out of him. He knows he's too late. He'll try to win me back, but all the while he'll know that it's too late. That I will forever be the one that got away. Either way, I'm victorious in the end.

This shit is really screwing up my master plan. Now I'm the sad pathetic one (well that's actually not that new) who is pining away for Him. And he's the one that's found happiness. And now, I'll have to be the one to confess my undying love for him in some dramatic fashion (a la Julia Roberts in My Best Friend's Wedding, maybe?) and then I'll be the one that has to bow out. Concede defeat and send Them a (tacky, no doubt) cheese platter or something from Her Bridal Registry. God. God, God, God! He always fucking wins.

Before Jaclyn could finish making sure I wasn't suicidal, and before I could assure her that I was totally fine it happened. Big, fat, tears poured out of my eyes like my tear ducts were tiny fire hoses. I opened my mouth to tell Jaclyn I was fine but all that I could manage to spit out was "Fuck."
"Quiz, seriously, it's OK. You guys haven't even really been friends in like a year." Why does everyone keep saying that?!?!? "You are so over him! You've said it a thousand times before, he's not the same person you used to know."
"I know, I know. It's just that, God, why does He do this to me? Why can't I just have the upper hand one time? Just once. And you know I hate Her. She thinks she knows anything about Him. She doesn't know shit! She gives me the sideways stares like she's better than me because she's in his bed. Fuck. God. Now she's going to have a RING to prove it," I managed to sneer between sobs. "How can he MARRY the evil swooping whore?!"
"The what?"
"It just isn't fair." And right then, a homeless man who'd wandered his way into the coffee shop, without looking at me, shouted, "Life ain't fair!"

Thanks, BroLo, you always had a way with words

crush and burn

presbyjew has a girlfriend. i feel like charlie brown when lucy pulls the football out from under him. 

crush crashed.

revenge on a drunk texter

the first sunday in june is marked by philadelphia's international bike race, what many call the premier cylcing event in the united states. i couldn't care less about bike riding. i practically torture my dad for liking the moving "breaking away." that being said, my little corner of brolo just so happens to be the epicenter of the race which means starting at about 9:00am and going well into the night, manayunk is abuzz with drunken 20-30somethings reveling in or trying to regain their youth. i was no exception.

i drank. a lot. i re-fell-in-love with a crush that i thought i was over 2 years ago and who i shouldn't really have a crush on at all since he's boned 2 girls that at one point or another i considered bffs. i thought it would be fun to take shots of whiskey and drink vodka redbulls. and then (as per us when i venture into the land of vodka) i went a little crazy.

i called H. whatever, he had texted me sometime in the wee hours of sunday morning (or as i like to think of it, saturday night) and so i thought, "what the hell?" i'm going to call him. so i did.

ring. ring. ringfuckingring. maybe this was a bad - "hello?" oh, he answered. note to self, really think about the ramifications of drunk texting/calling. calling in particular.

"oh, hey, drunk texter."

"oh, hey, drunk caller."

is he flirting?

i don't remember a lot of the conversation. i do know that i woke up in the morning and my front porch was covered in pepperidge farm goldfish crackers. i'm on of those things that goes bump in the night i think. about 45 minutes in H decided to tell me about how he had dated other girls in the year and change we've been hiding from each other. WHAT? he broke up with me because he had "too much going on" and needed to "take care of [himself]" and didn't think it "was fair" to me that he couldn't give me "everything." sorry, but that means that once you got your shit together, you should have come crawling back to me! dummy.

so i lost it. i mean i didn't become all crying and hysterical. i became a huge bitch. he kept trying to talk over me (he was probably about to confess his undying love for me) but i was not about to let that shit happen. you lose, buddy.

i went on this giant rant. like let's lay it all on the table. you're going to drunk text me at all hours of the night, inviting me to lunch, telling me you have a soft spot for me, and saying i "rock" (which is almost as bad as saying i'm awesome). to me that sounds like someone wants to get laid. and if that's the case then just say so. if not what the fuck are you doing bothering me again? of course he was caught totally off guard and was trying to say he just thought it would be nice to say hi and blah, blah, boring.

and then, in a move so unlike me i scared myself i said, "we weren't friends before we dated and i don't think we need to be friends now." ahhhh! this must be what it feels like to be a strong black woman!

i don't know what happened then because when i woke up the next morning i was clutching my phone and upon further investigation saw that i had called #1 and #2. i also couldn't lift my head up off the pillow and my eyes were swollen shut and i threw up about 4-5times.

but, now, i don't have any of that maybe he secretly still loves me and there is hope for us craziness going on in my head. i feel like it's over. and it feels really good.

crush. crush. crush.

i have a crush. a full on 12 year old middle-schooler crush on a boy i spent exactly 47 minutes with over a month ago. he's a do-gooder. and i'm a do-gooder. and i work at a place where do-gooders come to do good. and he came in. and i fell in luuuuuuurve.

i haven't had this kind of crush since college when i practically threw myself at jeff shallnotloveme everyday for 4 years. and before that it was mr. ryan karr, who i've carried a cross for since mrs. cocuzza's class in 4th grade. anyway, my crush. he's perfect. absolutely perfect. he has a perfectly jewish last name and i made up my mind when i was introduced to paul newman in "cat on a hot tin roof" that i was a total shiksa, and yet he's presbyterian! so i get all the perks of dating a jew (mainly a spectacularly chiseled face, glorious hair and basketball skills - sorry, is that offensive?) and i don't have to go all charlotte and give up christmas! where do i sign up?

so anyway, presbyjew just so happens to work in my building. i caught a glimpse of him once just a few days after our first and only (up until that point) encounter crossing over broad street and heading into the bellevue for lunch. after that, nothing. it was like he vanished from my life. i knew it was serious when i didn't forget about him. i tend to have the attention span of a goldfish. dangle something shiny in front of my face and i have no idea what was going on 30 seconds ago. but i didn't forget about my presbyjew. in fact, i found him on twitter and check his updates semi-regularly. (i'm not a stalker).

so after a few weeks without so much as a sighting, i had all but given up on him. that was until last week. as per-us, i met up with #2 for our weekly lunch date at liberty place. after i finished my saladworks overpriced, never good enough, greek salad, it was back to the office. as i absent-mindedly crossed over sansom toward my building i saw him. there he was. walking into the building. OMG! wouldn't it be great if we were in the same elevator? do i have gum? stupid onions! and then it happened. my some divine force of god, i was sprinting the 50 feet from the corner to the doors. in 5 inch heels. i didn't even realize i was running until i got into the vestibule and realized i couldn't breathe. but don't worry, i played it cool.

he was already waiting in the elevator bank. i sauntered over pretending to be distracted and very important scrolling through my bb. i looked up and glanced at him, we caught eyes and i did a double take. "oh! hey, how are you?" it was perfect. the timing was perfect. i was cheerful but not freakishly so. i was making him fall in love with me!

generally at this point in the story, something terribly embarrassing happens to me. i trip, get caught, get stuck, hiccup, etc. but no, not this time. i was the perfect lady. it was miraculous. 

he got off on the 19th floor. i checked my phone as he slipped out of the elevator. 1:49pm.

so now, at least 2 times a week, between 1:30 and 2:00 i find a reason to go downstairs. desperately hoping to run into him.

but i promise, i'm not a stalker. slightly pathetic, maybe. stalker, no. 

back from the dead to me

friends, friends, friends, do we need to talk! after a decidedly lame spring, summer seems to be off to a fantastically juicy start.

as any beach bum knows, memorial day is the official, unofficial, kick off to summer and my memorial day weekend was a kick off indeed. and it started with a series of text messages from a boy i dated winter of 2008. and who i haven't seen since, literally haven't laid eyes on since 4 days before he out-of-the-blue broke up with me. which i hate because not only did he break up with me via alexander graham bell, the last time we did see each other i spent most of my night playing porn star on my knees if you catch my drift. i digress. so there i am at the bar watching some guy (who i later found out played for the flyers...hockey never was my thing) bat drunken bitches away like flies when i hear that unmistakable "bloop." i pull out my little bb and the following message appears, "hey, not for nothing, just wanted to say hi and i hope all is good with you." i think he meant well but he works at a chain musical instrument retailer that i will call center for guitars so i cut him some slack. 

since he thought i appropriate to break up with me over the phone, and since he honest to god said the phrase, "it's not you, it's me" and since i drunk dialed and text messaged him for close to 2 months post break up without a single response, i deleted his ass from my phone, and thus my life, sometime in june 2008. so here i am, fuzzy at the bar, getting a text from a mystery admirer who hopes all is good (well) with me! i respond with a tasteful, yet haha-i'm better-than-you-because-i-deleted-whoever-you-are, "thanks so much. things are great! i feel a little silly but i don't know who this is." bloop. "it's H."

what. the. fuck.

what do you mean it's H? where the hell did you come from? last time i hear from you was an email in november wishing me a happy holiday season and then another one avoiding my subsequent invitation to lunch.

oh, my pretties. i don't know if i will ever understand the mens. over the course of the next 2 hours my phone blooped 7 more times, culminating in an invitation to catch up at some point over the weekend before i leave beachy heaven for BroLo. finally, i wrote back, "if you still want to have lunch when you wake up in the morning, let me know." fast forward to sunday mid-afternoon and i am still waiting on that lunch. i won't lie. it was a blow. a lot of things went unsaid during the break up call. and by a lot of things, i mean just about everything as my response was, "ok" and a goodbye-less hang up. and here i am, about to embark on another summer-time season of carefree sluttiness and you're gonna come back and get all inside my head. i swear to god, they have some kind of 6th sense. 

so after i recovered from the unexpected cameo of H, and after i went and got myself some lunch, it was off to our local deck bar for some reggae. and fivel was there. so being the mature 25 year old i am, i played nice. fake hugged her and air kissed her cheek. but then she went and threw me off. she bought me a drink. gag. seriously. after i thanked her, i took a big ol' swig of the vodka/redbull and dashed off into the crowd. and then it happened. approximately 2 hours and several vrb's later she attacked me. like a tiny spider monkey. this attack wasn't of the physical nature - i would have been ready for that. ever since she pushed me back in january and then again in february, i have been on my toes like a ninja around her. no, this was no physical attack, though i did feel slightly accosted when she grabbed me by the shoulders, this was a complete verbal attack. she did the unthinkable. the most abhorrent thing a baby-mouse/spider monkey hybrid could do. bitch apologized to me. say whaaaa!!!!????

i'm not really sure how the conversation went. the whole time i was trying to stay one step ahead of her in case this was all a ploy to pull me in close to her and judo chop me in the neck. i remember something about thinking i was "awesome" (a word i have come to hate, particularly when it is used to reference me) and hating that we weren't "straight" (ick) because i'm #1's bff and she knows how much it means to him for us to be "cool." at one point i do remember looking down at her and thinking "am i secretly talking to an 14 year old dude?" i couldn't breathe and i was sweating (i talk a lot of shit, but when it comes right down to it, i need to have my confrontations planned out and i need to be the confronter not the confrontee) and as she was mid "let's be friends," i looked down at her, mumbled something about how everything was cool and i was over it and nearly barreled her over on my way toward some boozey delight at the bar.

generally, i rock the shit out of summer. but right now, it's summer 2, quiz 0. but then, it's not even the 4th of july yet.

With love, Philadelphia xoxo

Finally, BroLo is loving us back!

Thanks to those fine (not-hipsters) over at Philebrity for showing us the love.

lady lovely links

i want to see this

do-gooders

jessica stewart makes pretty things

writers need to be readers to survive

check her out. and look at her too.

i can hear the belles

this weekend was the beginning of the end. smalls got married. and while most people (myself included) thought i'd be in the fetal position and breakdowny at the thought of people i actually know and love getting married, i am actually quite optimistic. that's not to say there wasn't a brief episode after the bar after the reception where #2 had to talk me down of the proverbial ledge. but that's what makes me, me, right?

she looked beautiful. the city was beautiful (and if i was ever going to cheat on BroLo, Mr. Charlie Charleston, SC would be the other man). and i've never seen anyone look at someone the way the groom looked at her when they were taking their vows.

and all of this got me thinking. i think i can wait. and while i don't want to wait, i will. i will wait for that. i will wait for someone whose brothers tell my dad that they know he will love me, and take care of me, and that he is a good man. i will wait for someone who will love me even when i'm being ridiculous and hysterical. i will wait for that. i will wait for what they have. i just really hope i don't have to wait too long.

and you know something, i don't want that person to be #1. he's not good enough for me.

and it doesn't hurt that i feel like, afterall, i might just be winning the war against myself and against #1. because i know he's not happy. and that's sad. but it's validating.

i feel good about life right now. right now, at this second, on this day, i feel good about life.