kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I've been so happy being unhappy with you Hmmm�let�s pretend this is a good news/bad news type of situation. The good news is Kiwifruit�s journal is about to get much more interesting. The bad news? Well, that�s a bit more complicated� Disclaimer: when things in my life get really, really bad I tend to try and make fun of the whole situation. I mean it�s so hysterically funny when you�re heart has been ripped out and shredded with a cheese grater. Ha. Ha. Ha. So forgive me if I seem a little flip. Also forgive me if I seem a little insane, disjointed, sad, angry or any other extreme mood form� So in case you haven�t guessed already. C., my boyfriend of almost two years, came home on Monday night and dropped the biggest clich� bomb in the entire universe: �I love you but I�m not in love with you anymore.� Geez. Well, at least he didn�t say, �Let�s still be friends�. But if he had he�d probably be dead now because I would have bludgeoned him with the September issue of Vogue. I am still a little raw to go into how I feel. Well, y�know�blown away, sad, angry, scared, lost, destroyed�but those are just words. I can�t really define the way my stomach feels like it�s been scooped out. I have spent two days alternately crying and raging. The funnest symptom yet is dry heaving. Now that�s a real joy. When all you have in your stomach from the past two days is frosting and way too much wine I guess it�s to be expected. I am supposed to be packing up my things tonight. I was supposed to pack up my things last night. C. is staying with his frat boy mafia friends while I supposedly do this. But instead last night I went out with a girlfriend to a wine bar where I (ooh, surprise!) drank way too much wine. I then got home and had drunken conversations with both my father and my mother about what a horrible bastard C. was and about how I hoped he was a miserable, drunk, lonely man for the rest of his life. Oh yeah and then I said that the only woman who would ever put up with his crap would be a coke whore with no self-esteem�but wait, I stayed with him for almost two years�so what does that say about me? Any-hoo, at the wine bar, my girlfriend decided it was time that I realized I �still had it� (i.e. men don�t get sick at the sight of me). She pimped me out to some Brad Pitt look-alike who was ridiculously�I mean ridiculously cute. I chatted him up a bit and learned that he has three things that make only a few steps above the spawn of Satan�he is an actor, a musician and he�s 25-years old. No more actors. No more musicians. No more man-children. But it was fun anyway and he did know who Dave Eggers and Tom Robbins were so I�ll give him that. He was a somewhat intelligent, actor/musician/man-child. And he had a really cool hat on. Yeah�he was beautiful. But let�s assume it�s just a little bit early to start thinking about dating other men. I mean the body is not yet cold, in fact the body is still lying motionless in my soon to be former-living room. Said body should be surrounded by boxes and other moving supplies. But instead I am going to dinner with another girlfriend tonight (�dinner� being a slightly ridiculous concept considering the state of my stomach). It�s amazing how all these girlfriend crawl out of the wood work post-breakup eager to keep you drunk and well-fed. You gotta love it. I just can�t do it tonight. I will pack tomorrow. I�ll start by scraping the splatterings of my heart off the ceilings and walls. I�ll put them in that cool vintage cigar box that Hilary gave me and I�ll put it someplace really safe. 5:03 p.m. - 2002-11-13 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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