And on Sunday, she wallowed
Today, C went back to England after a short weekend together.
Going with him to the airport to say good-bye has always been tough. It's five hours of an emotional mind-fuck, knowing I'm going with him to the airport to say good-bye. Walk around the terminal with him, with the feeling that he's leaving soon making it all fun and games. The wierd feeling when I see him walk through security and knowing that if I acted purely on instinct, I'll be calling my parents from jail tomorrow morning. And then the long train ride home, snuffling to myself. On the E train. And you really don't want me to discuss the E train.
But staying home after he leaves is no fun either. Especially as the apartment is our home now. We have our life together, and I've only realized now just how much it's our life now and not really so much mine anymore. And I like it.
So after this weekend, this chilled-out weekend where I had the shock of my life regarding zebra print (different post, different time), it was time for him to go. So I had this brilliant idea that if I'm not going to the airport, then I shouldn't stay home...I should go shopping! (Hitting forehead) Retail therapy! What was I thinking? Of course! Driver, take me to Bloomingdales!
Except it didn't quite work that way. I was in Shoes on 2 and I realized I wasn't really quite paying attention. I was there shopping, but I was not really there. My heart wasn't in it and I knew why - I was already missing C. The knowledge that he would be back in two weeks and the "Buy One, Get the Second Pair 1/2 Off!" sale did little to console me.
So when the salesgirl handed me several boxes of shoes to try on, she looked at me and said, "And how is your day?" Oooh, dangerous question. M, don't do it, M, don't do it. But I did it.
My eyes welled up and I became one of those people who answer a simple, non-committal question with their Life Story. I became a Gusher. In the middle of Bloomingdales, of all places! Listen - Robin Williams can have an emotional meltdown, defect from Communist Russia, and have half of New York City cheering him on in Bloomingdales (see Moscow On The Hudson). But if you are not Robin Williams and start crying to the salesgirl, she is calling the men in white coats. Designed by Michael Kors, of course - it's Bloomingdales!
But by a wierd twist of fate, she actually sat and listened to my rambling. If - as I suspected - she was stoned, then this makes a lot of sense. Otherwise, I highly commend Bloomingdales for the level of customer service this store supplies and everyone should shop there!
Having stumbled out of the store and walked my sorry self home, a friend called me on my cell to check in, as she knew C was leaving today. After five minutes, I sighed, "I'd rather not talk right now, I just need to be alone." But she had different ideas.
7 pm - the phone rings. I'm changing into my slobby pajamas. Answering machine picks up. "Hi. Just calling to see how you're feeling. Call me back when you can."
8 pm - phone rings again while I'm hugging a pint of Better Batter ice cream from Maggie Moo's. Let the machine pick up. "It's me again. Not to go all wierd on you, but you've got me a little worried. Call me at least when you walk the dog."
9 pm - Again. "I hope you're having fun wallowing. I bet this includes an interesting combination of sleepwear and a pint of Haagen-Daaz. Am I right?"
Close, but it was enough to make me crack a smile
Going with him to the airport to say good-bye has always been tough. It's five hours of an emotional mind-fuck, knowing I'm going with him to the airport to say good-bye. Walk around the terminal with him, with the feeling that he's leaving soon making it all fun and games. The wierd feeling when I see him walk through security and knowing that if I acted purely on instinct, I'll be calling my parents from jail tomorrow morning. And then the long train ride home, snuffling to myself. On the E train. And you really don't want me to discuss the E train.
But staying home after he leaves is no fun either. Especially as the apartment is our home now. We have our life together, and I've only realized now just how much it's our life now and not really so much mine anymore. And I like it.
So after this weekend, this chilled-out weekend where I had the shock of my life regarding zebra print (different post, different time), it was time for him to go. So I had this brilliant idea that if I'm not going to the airport, then I shouldn't stay home...I should go shopping! (Hitting forehead) Retail therapy! What was I thinking? Of course! Driver, take me to Bloomingdales!
Except it didn't quite work that way. I was in Shoes on 2 and I realized I wasn't really quite paying attention. I was there shopping, but I was not really there. My heart wasn't in it and I knew why - I was already missing C. The knowledge that he would be back in two weeks and the "Buy One, Get the Second Pair 1/2 Off!" sale did little to console me.
So when the salesgirl handed me several boxes of shoes to try on, she looked at me and said, "And how is your day?" Oooh, dangerous question. M, don't do it, M, don't do it. But I did it.
My eyes welled up and I became one of those people who answer a simple, non-committal question with their Life Story. I became a Gusher. In the middle of Bloomingdales, of all places! Listen - Robin Williams can have an emotional meltdown, defect from Communist Russia, and have half of New York City cheering him on in Bloomingdales (see Moscow On The Hudson). But if you are not Robin Williams and start crying to the salesgirl, she is calling the men in white coats. Designed by Michael Kors, of course - it's Bloomingdales!
But by a wierd twist of fate, she actually sat and listened to my rambling. If - as I suspected - she was stoned, then this makes a lot of sense. Otherwise, I highly commend Bloomingdales for the level of customer service this store supplies and everyone should shop there!
Having stumbled out of the store and walked my sorry self home, a friend called me on my cell to check in, as she knew C was leaving today. After five minutes, I sighed, "I'd rather not talk right now, I just need to be alone." But she had different ideas.
7 pm - the phone rings. I'm changing into my slobby pajamas. Answering machine picks up. "Hi. Just calling to see how you're feeling. Call me back when you can."
8 pm - phone rings again while I'm hugging a pint of Better Batter ice cream from Maggie Moo's. Let the machine pick up. "It's me again. Not to go all wierd on you, but you've got me a little worried. Call me at least when you walk the dog."
9 pm - Again. "I hope you're having fun wallowing. I bet this includes an interesting combination of sleepwear and a pint of Haagen-Daaz. Am I right?"
Close, but it was enough to make me crack a smile
posted by Currin Girl at 10:15 PM
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