"She don't believe in shooting stars..."

New York is a small country town of 8 million people. And I live on Main Street. I went out Wednesday night to a bourgeoisie Black politico affair with Patent not expecting to see anyone I knew. Frankly, I was looking forward to being anonymous. I go out way too often and it’s rare that I don’t run into someone I know when I leave the house. Last night, in addition to the 10 other people I encountered, I ran into my ex and my former SO (remember him?)

The ex was cool, although the initial greeting was awkward. But I eventually wound up chatting him up for 30 minutes about nothing while his best friend repeatedly loud-whispered in my ear, “I miss you!” (There was an open bar and Henny was in long supply.) In that half hour, I remembered why I dated my ex—and couldn’t bring myself to break up with him even long after I realized it wasn’t working. That’s a good dude and he is funny as f*ck. He also doesn’t put up with my sh*t (also in long supply.) His new girl is a lucky woman. She better be treating him right!

Anyway, today’s blog:

I’ve been trying to arrange an outing with this guy for 2 months. We have the worst schedules ever. I work like a slave; he does too. Whereas I refuse to leave the house or wear heels on weekends and call that a vacation, he actually leaves the state.

We’ve sort of never met. I was in DC for Thanksgiving and attended a party my boy from college threw. When I got there, my boy was sitting at his table with a gentleman who had his back to me. I noticed he had etched stars in his hair. They were fabulous! All I could do was stare until my boy interrupted my fascination with an offer from his bottle.

I saw some more friends from school and left the booth to go chat. When I returned, Stars was gone. I ask my boy where he went and am told he left.

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