Roller Coaster

Yesterday I spent most of the day teary and sad, confused in my head about what I want from romantic relationships in general, what I wanted from one person in particular. Feeling pretty fucking fundamentally damaged in the love department.

I spent most of today much less confused, but still pretty teary.

And hung over.

Shelley's birthday party was some crazy kind of fun - it was an 80s theme, and almost everyone dressed up. Shelley was herself in high school, I dressed as the punk I'd always wanted to be, there were lace fingerless gloves and big hair, tight jeans and metal shirts. I wore a wig, and lots of people didn't recognize me at all, which I found hilarious. Jennifer wore crushed velvet. The living room dance floor was crowded almost the whole night, and there was a lot of singing along and fist pumping.

I drank too much, but 1) it was on purpose and 2) I didn't fall over. I wasn't so excited about being dizzy in downward dog during yoga this morning, however.

The rest of the winter, I think I'm going to take it easy, stay in more, get more sleep. Hibernate a bit. Write more. Tend to my head and heart a little. Let the ground lie fallow.

It's been a long time since I haven't been looking for the Next Cute Thing. I'm not foolish enough to believe that I'm done with dating, but man, even with the concomitant heartache, it's a bit of a relief to feel like a permanent unit of one.