Life can be a bitter pill to swallow every now and then. As luck would have it, I have been feeling ill and depressed the last few weeks as a result of a stomach issue that still plagues me (though thankfully I am on meds now and feeling just slightly better). I lost five pounds, ran to nutritionists and specialists all over the city, had mild panic attacks on a daily basis, and kept blowing off the fist-bumper (and some other adorable cuties) because I just didn’t feel right. I have been told that it’ll take at least two more weeks for my stomach to settle and adjust and I can start reintroducing foods to my diet slowly, but it has made me anxious and upset that I haven’t been able to enjoy my summer the way I’d like.
But I don’t have a full two weeks to recover. On Monday, I fly to Chicago for three more nights of Phish and come hell or high water I will be there busting a move. And somehow I am convinced that I am a superhero and that this is possible. It has to be.
Can we return to the fist-bumper for just a moment? I haven’t given up on him just yet (and am really hoping he hasn’t given up on me either). A few weeks ago, he asked me to go with him to a George Clinton show at the South Street Seaport. I declined. A week later, he invited me along to see Sufjan Stevens in Prospect Park. I was away from town that day and politely asked if I could take a rain check. I told him to still keep me in mind for upcoming events; I just worry he’ll think I’m flighty or disinterested. Recently we chatted via text message and he asked me to meet him at our neighborhood bar. I told him it was tempting but that it was getting late and that apparently I’m 90 years old. His response? “Yea but you look GOOD.” Good. In all caps. That’s flirting, yes?
In a recent email exchange with my gal Hutch from Be Awesome Instead, I confided that I think about the end before I can allow myself to get excited about the beginning. Is this the medication talking? It should be noted that I haven’t had any alcohol in well over a week.
It’s possible we may go out on Thursday. Here’s hoping he doesn’t invite seven of his closest friends along and I can properly get my flirt on. I’ll keep you posted!
Also, I have something pretty lovely planned for ya’ll this Friday. Please stop by!