Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Ex and the city

Nick was directly in my way, blonde hair wet in places from the lightly falling snow. I contemplated for a few seconds either ducking into the Duane Reade next to me, or simply hustling past him and praying for the best. But I knew I had to acknowledge him seeing as he was two feet away from me and staring me directly in my mascara-dripping eyes. Thanks, precipitation! 

“Dani,” his voice was soft and familiar, and still made my stomach do about forty flips.

“Hey..” I said, desperate to teleport myself out of this situation and about four blocks south where my couch was waiting. 

“Heading home from work?” he asked. Duh, I’m heading home from work you prick head. You’re two blocks from my office and it’s a Thursday.

“Yep, just heading back to my apartment. But I’m meeting Ash there and she’s probably waiting outside so I should really get going,” I was spitting out any excuse possible and starting to turn my body to move past him. 

“Wait, D, I was wondering if maybe…” I was walking away before he could finish. My heart was beating too fast to even attempt to process what he was trying to say.

“Sorry! Really gotta run!” I yelled over my shoulder. I stared at the ground and lengthened my stride, teetering somewhere between a walk and a jog for the remainder of my walk home. 

I entered my building and took the steps two at a time up to my fourth-floor studio apartment. It was such a rarity that I was able to live on my own in someplace as expensive as New York, but I had found an amazing deal on a studio apartment in an only mildly shady apartment building. There were three large windows that allowed for plenty of light, a kitchen that could only fit one person but at least had the basics, a living room and a queen sized bed that was blocked off by one of those old fashioned room dividers. It even had a walk-in closet (okay, i could fit my body in it and nothing else but still). All of this for the bargain price of $1,100 a month and I was sold.

I tossed my bag on the floor and shed my twenty layers of clothing before grabbing my iPhone and flopping on the couch. 

I know it’s gross out but please come over, wine and pizza on me! 

I typed quickly to my best friend, Ashley. Ash and I had been best friends since we were in middle school, and even though we attended college hundreds of miles apart, we both moved to the city after college. She worked for a company that purchased designer handbags from abroad, and then distributed them to places like TJ Maxx and Overstock.com. Essentially, she spent all day swimming in Prada, Celine, Chanel and about forty other drool-worthy purses. Some people just live the life. After landing the job, Ash moved here with her boyfriend of two years into a small apartment in West Village. A boyfriend, I might add, she was always cheating on. But thats a different story.

Sold. Be there in 20. 

I flipped my phone onto the couch and went to change into yoga pants and a tshirt. I grabbed my laptop, and immediately began to Facebook stalk Nick, something I hadn't allowed myself to do in weeks. 

After graduating, I had made the big move to New York partially because I knew I’d have a better chance at landing a job there over my hometown of Philly, and partially (okay, mostly) because my college boyfriend was moving there. Nick and I met our Junior year and spent the ensuing two years breaking up and making up. We were fiercely passionate, entirely too similar and both way too stubborn for our own good. When we were good, we were really good. And when we fought, we fought hard. But I always made excuses like “the best love is the exciting love” and crap like that, which got me and all of my belongings in a uhaul to the big city last August. 

Nick and I spent four blissful months exploring the city together before he decided that “this wasn’t for him”. He was “young, and in a new city” and should be “experiencing it independently before being tied down for the rest of his life”. Aka, he wanted to spend his new-found singleness screwing his way across the lower east side. I was heartbroken, blaming him for making me move here when in reality it was entirely my fault. It had been two months since our breakup, and that was the first time I had seen his gorgeous face since. 


His Facebook turned up nothing noteworthy, except a few photos of him and some blonde skank dancing a little too close at Alphabet Lounge. I shut the laptop and dug around in my kitchen for a bottle of red, while ordering a pizza on seamless. Meatlovers with extra cheese, this girl needed it. 

1 comment:

  1. Liking it so far... This reminds me of me, actually :) Can't wait to read more.

    lifebyaleah.blogspot.com

    ReplyDelete