Now, you’ve got a bit of a situation, because your husband’s frenzy has awakened the drama-radar of all the other emotionally distressed nutcases on your floor, and everyone is now peeking their heads out of their doors to see what the issue is. Drugs? Police? Rape? A gunfight? Oh, it’s just a mediocre cook who burned her hand on her potatoes…
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As I pointed out to a girlfriend in an email, “I have to get up and shower and dress and locate my keys and my shoes and my wallet and get on the subway to head out to a public computer lab to go on the internet.” So if I make twenty four or twenty five out of the thirty days of NaBloPoMo, I think I deserve a medal.
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It’s hard to describe Bensonhurst… but it’s one of those places that when you’re there, you know you’re there. It’s one of those places in Brooklyn where the subway runs in open air, where there is paint peeling off the columns and graffiti marking the walls of what probably were gorgeous Dorian-styled stations a hundred or so years ago…
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There’s a possibility I might just be doing this whole adulthood thing wrong…
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“Your stories were much more interesting before you were married.”
“If that doesn’t excite you then you should hear about this recipe for rendered fat that I’ve been itching to try.”
That’s about when he rolled his eyes at me.
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I felt, as the weeks progressed, that as much as I hated it, this job was a cosmic gift with a predetermined expiration date. On that thought, I was able to relax. There was no need to worry how long I was going to be stuck there, nor was there any need to worry about getting fired.
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Something in the cosmos must have told me that it was a new year as I sat scribbling away at my list of things to do, and strangely that feeling hasn’t gone away yet. Okay, fine, it’s only been four days since then, but still.
...read more hereI didn’t look at him while I sang, even though I’m pretty sure I was singing to him… or about him. I looked at a random stranger. I didn’t look at my husband either, though he was in the room. My husband is definitely not the “worrisome thing” the song was referencing.
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New Yorkers are like that. We are not intrinsically cheery people. We are all angry, and jaded, and suspicious. Even when we are smiling, we’re secretly waiting for something to go wrong. We revel in our schadenfreude, even when we are the butt of our own jokes. We delight even in our own misfortune, and do not tolerate kindly the fortune of others, unless it’s twisted or short lived. Nobody wants to be around two people who are in love. I would be more popular if I were defiantly trash-talking an ex lover while proclaiming that I didn’t need anybody. Two people in love will quickly be directed to “get a room!”
...read more hereHim: No, really. No woman has ever told me to put on a scarf because it’s chilly and I’m fighting a cold.
Me: Have you ever gotten sick while living with a girlfriend in a place that got this cold in the winter?
Him: That’s not the point.
