where am i?

“It’s a good thing he’s not jealous.”

Pete was playing a song on his ukulele and interrogating me about Ted while I did Wii yoga .

“Of course he’s not jealous. Why would he be jealous?” from a tree pose. “Well. . . I mean. . . he doesn’t know where I am.”

The F train is the worst train, and I suddenly I don’t know where I am. I’m not even sure what borough this is. Is there really a 23rd Avenue?

I got home really late, talked to Cooper for a minute. He asked about my night.

“Why aren’t you with your boy? Does he care that you were with Pete?”

Really? Am I missing something? Doing something wrong?

~beatrix

hugo's girlfriend

She wasn’t as pretty as I’d expected.

I’d been afraid he’d bring her along. I’d been so crazy about him for so long, it was almost like I was nervous about it out of habit. But it wasn’t so bad. And she wasn’t that pretty.

Two glasses of wine helped. It wasn’t fun, but it wasn’t that bad.

And sitting there, looking across the table at the two of them, I realized that what I was feeling wasn’t love or need or even lust, but jealousy.

And, for the five millionth time, I hope that I’ve never ever been in love at all. That when I see it I’ll know because it will be so different from anything else, and I’ll think, that, that is what I’ve been looking for.


~beatrix