L÷2=R{where L= length of relationship and R=recovery time}
The cute neighbor and I got together in April of 2010 and parted in July of 2011, which equals approximately 16 months. Divide that by 2, and you get 8 months. So according to Charlotte, I'll be over it by... March 2012. MARCH?!?!?! Oh no, no, no, no, no. I must get over this more quickly than March!
Every time that I think that I'm over it, something happens to make me realize that I'm not. First it was seeing photos of him pop up on facebook, (which I then made sure to "hide" all his future facebook activity in record time) then it was something as innocent as seeing the university he is now employed by playing in an athletic event that made me desperate to text/call him. (I didn't. *pats self on back*) And now it's an email from him.
I was actually thinking that I was so over it that maybe, just maybe I could drop him an email to see if he's found a new apartment, etc., but decided no, I should definitely at least wait until I get myself settled into London. By that point, I'll be very busy and surrounded by lots of new people with exotic accents, and I really and truly won't care about him. But when I saw his name pop up in my inbox, I realized just how unready I am for that. The usual queasiness in the pit of my stomach, and the prickling just behind my eyes returned. The email was innocent enough, he was actually just forwarding on information about free baseball tickets we won for being so awesome at tailgating (and the tickets just happen to be for my birthday, but I'll be in London, of course), but all I want now is a calming glass of wine, only my parents don't drink wine. They don't drink anything at all, and why is it that my parents' house is completely dry? And in this god forsaken place, the liquor store downtown closes at 6pm and they don't sell any alcohol in grocery stores, so I really, really cannot have a calming glass of wine. You'd think they were recovering alcoholics or something, but they're not, they just don't like alcohol. I thought of the possibility that some unsuspecting soul had given them a bottle of wine as a gift over the holidays (it's happened), but if I ask them for that, they'll automatically assume I've got an alcohol problem (they would, trust me), even though I haven't had any alcohol at all since I was at Grayer's place (and left a bottle of wine there, DAMMIT!), so I guess I'll just have to hope they have a dance lesson tonight or something so I can ransack the house looking for wine. Now I sound as if I do have a problem.
Ok. It's fine. I'll just have a calming glass of water and some chocolate instead. That's almost the same thing. And piss on Charlotte's formula. In two weeks I'll be in London, surrounded by men with adorable accents, and Fen will be around for cocktails. I don't need that stupid formula. I just need some wine...
2 comments:
You know that episode in Friends where they think they're going to be stuck in Monica's bedroom again while Ross and Rachel talk and Joey's got an emergency supply of things after it happened when they split up?
You need that type of emergency supply kit for when you're at your parents. Including wine.
Now there's an idea!
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