The Strand is where all the tourist shops are and it's kind of a mix between Sixth Street and the French Quarter....except, you know...shitty. Actually, while we were there, we were trying to decide which of those two it was more like. But it's impossible to tell, because one block would look exactly like the French Quarter and the next block would look exactly like Sixth Street. We had beers in the sun, we ate lunch, we went down to the beach and had more beers. Then had a couple more. Then we grabbed two big beers for the drive home. Yeesh. Naturally, we followed up our day of fun by immediately going out the instant we got within the Houston city limits. At the end of the night I got a text message, and when I looked to see who it was, I noticed it was from Donna. Uh oh. It said, "Hi." At this point my heart sank right into my feet. We haven't spoken a word - email, phone, text, nothing - in almost three weeks. So of course I start wrestling with this. Do I text her back? Do I not? The right answer is "no, you do not," but I had been drinking for the previous twelve hours, so I decided to say "hey." Whatever, no big deal. But then Sunday night at around 11:00, she called me. At this point I was sober, so I ignored it and went to bed.
Here's the thing. The first ten days after the break-up, I kept having very specific visualizations/memories of Donna. But after awhile, it all started to blur together, so when my brain said, "activate: Donna memory," I just saw an indistinguishable mish-mash. But now that I've heard her voice, my brain is cycling through shit again. I just feel like I was about to turn a corner, and she sucked me back in. And the scab was torn off way too early. It seems to me that we're handling the break-up differently. I began dealing with it on the front end - getting all my grief out of the way immediately after the break-up (this is ongoing, of course). And she's dealing with it on the back end - floating along, la-di-da, after the initial break-up, but then realizing a few weeks down the road that she misses me and (uh oh!) now I'm not there to talk to. This is the intersection, I guess. And this is when my resolve is tested. Stay tuned!
No fat boy snack reviews today. But there are plenty on the horizon! I will say this, 90-100 calories do not a snack make. That's just a damn nibble! Get those questions in for tomorrow's (maybe, if there are any questions) mailblog! MemoirsMailbag@gmail.com
2 comments:
i was telling kalinda last night that i never remember the name of your blog. she said, why don't you mark it on your favorites and you won't forget it anymore? i said, what are favorites? anyway, today i somehow remembered the words "irresolute" and "life" and, well, here i am. the probelm is, now that i've read this post, when i dig down deep in my mind the next time i'm looking for to kill some time i probably won't find the words "irresolute" and "life." i'll probably find "cut" and "my" and "own" and "head" and "off" and "before" and "i" and "come" and "back" and "here" and "drink" and "this" and "sour" and "tear" and "martini."
thanks for openning your heart to me.
whoop that trick
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