Sunday, January 15, 2006

Sometimes it seems that just when you start to feel a little bit better about something, fate intervenes to bring you back to a place of misery The following event is real, not fictionalized, as you would be inclined to believe.
As I may have told you, shortly before the breakup, I had given up my career as a dance teacher to pursue other career options. The breakup ensued, and I spent six months of government subsidized unemployment on the beach and under the covers watching Ellen and reality TV. I presently spend my days walking dogs and writing. That's right, careerless and mateless in one shot. Oh well, c'est la vie, I gave away my ticket for a normal life long ago, in college, when I started dating unavailable men. BUT THIS IS WHERE IT STOPS!
Anyway back to the point- Manhattan is a condensed sity. There is so much to see that it is not hard to avoid a particular area if necessary. I used to live with my BF on 64th and West End. So the area on West End between 50th and 80th Streets is basically a blackout zone. (The blackout zone originally included Manhattan, then the entire west side, and has shrunk in time. Not that I'm over it.) The other day, I got a pet sitting job within 10 blocks of the old apartment. I literally closed my eyes in the street as I walked close to the apt. we had shared, risking walking into a stranger or a lamp post. I kept my head down past the neighborhood restaurant we visited on lazy Sunday evenings, where I liked the the fried zuccini and he liked the linguini a la vongole. I got up to the apartment, set up my laptop and played tug of war with the dog. The apartment is a top floor penthouse, with a wrap around balcony. I know, I know. I am staring out the window when it dawns on me that I'm actually freaking looking at the apartment we shared together for almost SIX YEARS, the apartment that he in all probability, still resides at. Then, as if a divine being placed them there itself, I see to my right a set of binoculars. For about two seconds I tried to talk myself into forgetting about it and going to see what was on the Lifetime Movie station. Instead I picked up the binoculars, and with my hands in a death grip, heart pounding, tried to see if I could scout out our apartment. I mean this is a year later guys, I don't know what kind of horrors I could have seen. Turns out I can't see into his apartment, which is a good thing, because even if I could have seen so much as a one inch sliver, I would have stood there in a death grip watching for an elbow, anything, like some 1980's movie voyeuristic loser.

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