The other part of the weekend
The strangers are just me trying to remember who I was before Alison.
Some people are better with conversations at bars and clubs, others are better out and about. I’m the latter.
Me: I feel the need to tell you that I’m not following you.
Her: (surprised) What?
Me: We got onto the train at the same time, got off the same stop, crossed the street at the same time. I just didn’t want you think that I’m following you. (pointing) I live over there.
Her: (laughs) Oh, ok. Thank you.
Me: (holding out hand) Logan.
Her: (takes hand) Gabrielle.
Me: Hello, Gabrielle. Nice to meet you. You’re French, I take it?
Her: (laughs) Yes.
Me: Lovely. (turning away) I’m…I’m just gonna keep walking this way. (turning back) But maybe I’ll see you around the neighborhood?
Her: (smiles) Maybe.
Me: Goodbye, Gabrielle.
Her: Goodbye, Logan.
After I met up with Kung and Nadi, met up with other friends, all of whom already have nicknames courtesy of my gym. Kong, Panda, Mouse, etc…
Me: Man, I’m already lit.
Him: Logan, you are way too old to talk like that. Way, way, way too old.
Me: Why do you hurt me so?
Him: Because you’re old.
Me: That doesn’t even make sense!
Somehow, Mouse and another girl end up having arm-wrestling on the floor of the bar, which is a story in itself. Mouse won. She was one of the people that ran for Alison.
Stumbled home just after 1AM. Took forever to fall asleep.
Met up with someone we’ll call Artistgirl for lunch. She’s going through a breakup.
Her: My thing is obviously a lot different.
Me: (shrugging) Everybody’s grief is grief to them. On that note, I should tell you that I will probably randomly start to cry.
Her: We’ll sit in the back.
Ended up going to a total of three bars across several hours with her. That’s a story for another time, I suppose.
Stopped drinking so much last week. Because I have to start being OK with reality again.
And because everything is just a copy of a copy of a copy again and I’m just trying to clear my head somehow.
Her: Are you home?
Me: I’m home. I’m mentally checked out, but I’m home.
Music: Feels like love is a losing game, that you can’t dodge the pain
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