I’m just lounging around in my apartment with big hair, full makeup, gigantic vintage clip-on earrings, a cut-up t shirt, and panties thinking about how, for someone who claims to date so much, I’ve been a little boring. Sure, there are always boys, but this winter I’ve been doing a lot less dating and a lot more moping and contemplating than usual. I’ve been eating a lot of pasta.
I should probably explain the kissing moratorium. And the sudden desire to simplify everything.
So to get you all up to speed, I have prepared for you a recap of last year: a work in three parts.
Part One: Winter
I woke up in David’s bed. He wanted to marry me, and I’d been playing along. I sort of wanted to believe in it.
I woke up, and I just knew it. My whole face hurt.
I can’t remember what started it. I guess we were arguing, but I wasn’t putting up much of a fight. It had been four months; I am so predictable. And the light hurt.
He said I was immature because I wouldn’t move the sheet from my face. But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t do it. I just woke up and knew it. It was over. This time for real.
He had to go to work. It was Saturday. That’s how things were. He left. I wanted to leave. But I couldn’t. I went back to sleep.
The next day I stopped by, picked up my things, and left his key. He stashed cab money in my stuff, and I found it when I got home.
The dark months are hard.