Monday, January 07, 2008
You think you've seen the sun, but you ain't seen it shine
I feel listless and unsettled. With less than 24 hours to go before I turn 30, my life feels out of my hands.
Which is strange because I had an absolutely fabulous weekend.
Friday night was New Good Friend, Nicole’s birthday party. Nicole, The DJ and another friend all went out to eat before hitting a club in Chinatown for the remainder of the night. We danced, we drank, we had a good time. The DJ was working at the club, but he would stop by occasionally to check up on me and see if I needed anything. Around 5 am that morning, we crawl into his bed together, tired beyond all reason but unable to stop ourselves from another round of kissing for hours. He is ridiculously complimentary to me, and I find myself thinking that maybe, just maybe I may have finally struck gold.
I wake up at 10ish, as I don’t sleep well in new places. The DJ hasn’t been feeling well and I don’t want to bother him, so I gather my things quietly, once I am ready to walk out the door, I tap him lightly and tell him I’m leaving. He rolls over, delightfully angry that I tried to sneak out.
“Get back in bed,” he says, “I’m not done with you yet.”
I slip my jeans off and crawl back under the covers. We snuggle for another 45 minutes-ish before he lets me leave. I walk home, blissfully content.
I plan to go home and get some more sleep, but I find myself making brunch plans with Email Boy and Karen, which takes longer than anticipated. By the time I get home, I don’t have a lot of time before I need to start getting ready for my own 30th birthday party. I power nap for about an hour and a half, the attempt to make myself beautiful.
Just as I finish getting dressed, The DJ calls. He’s feeling terrible (having been with him only a few hours before I know that this is not a lie, he is legitimately sick) and opts to stay home and sleep for the night. I attempt to not be disappointed. I fail miserably.
I’m not sure, at this point, if he is bailing because he really genuinely just needs a quiet night at home, or if this is a message he is sending to me- that he’s just not that into me.
I make a valiant effort to put it out of my head and just focus on having a good time at my birthday party. Luckily, I succeed. Champagne helps.
The party is…. Perfect. It’s in Jonathan and Lea’s adorable loft apartment, the perfect size for making everyone interact with each other. I combine all of my different groups of friends, and they get along. The food is spectacular- I gorge myself on Pigs in a Blanket and Dicey’s Famous Gaucamole. I find myself laughing constantly and my glass always full of champagne. I demand lap dances later in the evening and am ecstatic when so many friend indulge me. I feel unable to properly express how grateful I will be forever to Ana and Spatch and everyone else who helped to make this so special for me.
I swim in happiness and am out of my head drunk. In the cab on the way home, I talk unceasingly. I remember being transfixed by the lights of the cars in front of me and all sorts of odd things. I barely remember my head hitting my pillow.
But I do remember, with perfect clarity, the headache that I woke up with.
Totally worth it.
I got a few texts from The DJ yesterday with an apology for not making it and a promise to make it up to me, but I feel unsettled about where I stand with him and am basically just waiting for him to lose interest.
I mean, nobody as great as him is really going to want to be with me.
Today's Title from: The Best is Yet to Come by Frank Sinatra
Which is strange because I had an absolutely fabulous weekend.
Friday night was New Good Friend, Nicole’s birthday party. Nicole, The DJ and another friend all went out to eat before hitting a club in Chinatown for the remainder of the night. We danced, we drank, we had a good time. The DJ was working at the club, but he would stop by occasionally to check up on me and see if I needed anything. Around 5 am that morning, we crawl into his bed together, tired beyond all reason but unable to stop ourselves from another round of kissing for hours. He is ridiculously complimentary to me, and I find myself thinking that maybe, just maybe I may have finally struck gold.
I wake up at 10ish, as I don’t sleep well in new places. The DJ hasn’t been feeling well and I don’t want to bother him, so I gather my things quietly, once I am ready to walk out the door, I tap him lightly and tell him I’m leaving. He rolls over, delightfully angry that I tried to sneak out.
“Get back in bed,” he says, “I’m not done with you yet.”
I slip my jeans off and crawl back under the covers. We snuggle for another 45 minutes-ish before he lets me leave. I walk home, blissfully content.
I plan to go home and get some more sleep, but I find myself making brunch plans with Email Boy and Karen, which takes longer than anticipated. By the time I get home, I don’t have a lot of time before I need to start getting ready for my own 30th birthday party. I power nap for about an hour and a half, the attempt to make myself beautiful.
Just as I finish getting dressed, The DJ calls. He’s feeling terrible (having been with him only a few hours before I know that this is not a lie, he is legitimately sick) and opts to stay home and sleep for the night. I attempt to not be disappointed. I fail miserably.
I’m not sure, at this point, if he is bailing because he really genuinely just needs a quiet night at home, or if this is a message he is sending to me- that he’s just not that into me.
I make a valiant effort to put it out of my head and just focus on having a good time at my birthday party. Luckily, I succeed. Champagne helps.
The party is…. Perfect. It’s in Jonathan and Lea’s adorable loft apartment, the perfect size for making everyone interact with each other. I combine all of my different groups of friends, and they get along. The food is spectacular- I gorge myself on Pigs in a Blanket and Dicey’s Famous Gaucamole. I find myself laughing constantly and my glass always full of champagne. I demand lap dances later in the evening and am ecstatic when so many friend indulge me. I feel unable to properly express how grateful I will be forever to Ana and Spatch and everyone else who helped to make this so special for me.
I swim in happiness and am out of my head drunk. In the cab on the way home, I talk unceasingly. I remember being transfixed by the lights of the cars in front of me and all sorts of odd things. I barely remember my head hitting my pillow.
But I do remember, with perfect clarity, the headache that I woke up with.
Totally worth it.
I got a few texts from The DJ yesterday with an apology for not making it and a promise to make it up to me, but I feel unsettled about where I stand with him and am basically just waiting for him to lose interest.
I mean, nobody as great as him is really going to want to be with me.
Today's Title from: The Best is Yet to Come by Frank Sinatra
Labels: The DJ
Posted by Chloe
at 10:34 AM |
Permalink to You think you've seen the sun, but you ain't seen it shine |
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