Look!We live in the tall building __________ the city.A.in centerB.in center ofC.in the centerD.in the center of
答案Din the center of在……中心.
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扫描下载二维码Solo in the 2nd City
Chicago singles discuss their dating lives, or lack there of.
The B word. This post is meant to tell you a few things.&First off, this post is to say Bye. This may come as no surprise as I haven&t posted much this year, but I&ll be saying Bye-Bye to Solo in the 2nd City. This project has been my Baby for 4 years and I&ve had a Blast. My career has become the number one priority for me in my life, while Boys and dating were put on the Backburner. Hopefully I&ll do some writing that has something to do with other than Boys soon enough, but at this point, I say Adieu. (Also, because I&m too cheap to renew the dotcom address.) You can still find all the stories and fun on our tumblr: . I&ll be leaving it up indefinitely.Second B-word is Boyfriend. Yep. Used the word for the first time today. (He used the G word first though, I swear.) I&ve been dating someone for a couple of months now. He has a Bank account and even has sheets on his Bed. So for now, my stories will be limited to making chili together on Sunday nights or something else equally lame that doesn&t make for great writing. But he&s cute and I&m happy.Happy
has been a good year full of Blessings and I hope your 2016 is all you hope and dream and then some.&Thank you to all of you who have read for all these years, been to our shows, and been there for us. I cannot say enough about this little old Blog and what it has done for me.&Lots of my love,Melinda
So I just read
from Refinery about cutting your budget in half. I&m honestly appalled at this privileged point of view. I spend my entire life worrying about every penny I spend. While this girl lives in NYC and I live in humble, &cheap& Chicago, I&m still in shock that she can afford to spend $1000 of extra money.I think I live also a pretty privileged life for a Chicagoan. I live in a fancy, big apartment. I work for a non-profit, so I&m not making the big bucks, but I&m single and I live alone so I pay the rent and any expenses I have myself. So how do I do it? Since the aforementioned article basically told me nothing, I&d thought I&d share with you how I live in the big city, work in the public sector, and make it all work.(PS unfortunately none of these companies are giving me any money for posting about them on this blog. This is out of the goodness of my heart only.)1. Focus Groups. I do tons of them. You basically go in a room and tell market researchers what you think of the new Wendy&s ad or Microsoft product for an hour or two, and get paid usually minimum $100, if not more. I even go to Nielsen Neuro every 3 months, sit in a soundproof room with a neuron cap on my head and push a button every time I see a blue frog. I just gave snarky comments on an online bulletin board for 5 days and made $300. Maybe this is really the NSA doing an experiment on my brain, but if I&m making $50 an hour, I don&t really care. You can search under the &ETC& page on Craigslist and sign up for all the studies. While this isn&t guaranteed income that I can budget, it&s extra funds that help for things like dog haircuts ($60!) and when I want to pay off some extra on my bills.2. . If you&re not using Ebates yet, get on it. Basically, you make cash back every time you shop online. They pay you out every quarter, and it can add up. Pretty much every store on the interwebs participates. In my time on Ebates in the last 5 years, I&ve made $523 for literally doing nothing except clicking a button. And now there is a fancy Chrome extension you can use, so it will automatically tell you if the store is on Ebates. Do this now.3. . I used to get all sorts of random bank fees. Maybe I&m not the best at budgeting and tracking every cent, and then some stupid bank fee would take me back $35. No more. I lost my job in 2013 and changed to Simple. It&s an Internet and app only bank, but they have the most fantastic customer service I&ve ever encountered. They are like nice people over there. And they have ZERO fees. No fees! This has probably saved me at least $200 in the last couple of years. I highly recommend them. 4. Hotspot WiFi. I used to pay almost $50 for internet a month. Then I realized in Chicago, we get a hotspot in our neighborhood for a major cable company (I&m afraid of saying who and they&ll find me and shut it down, but you can use your imagination as there are like 2 internet companies in this city) and my parents happen to have the same company. So I&m sloughing off my parents and using their sign in information for the WiFi. Voila! Save myself $50 a month. While sure, sometimes it&s shoddy and I can&t call anyone to fix it, overall it&s such a better deal not having to pay one more bill each month.5. Side Hustles. I have 3 side jobs. I pick up shifts bartending and working at a couple of music venues doing coat check and selling band merchandise and such. It&s a couple of times a month and makes the world of difference to me. I just signed up to be an Instacart shopper for weeks when I&m extra broke. I&ve also walked dogs (which isn&t the most fun side job in Chicago winter) and worked in retail. There are always side gigs. You just have to have the hustle. Sure, I would like to have the option of not having to do any side gig, but I&ve realized there are worse places to be in my early 30s than slinging drinks and seeing some amazing live music. 6. Sharing Passwords. I pay for Hulu. I share a Netflix account with my best friend and his husband. My parents have HBOgo. Pick up the tab for one and share those accounts! If I paid for all of them myself, I&d be spending $40 a month. I have the one for $8.71 a month. 7. . In my 20s, I lived a life of buying J.crew clothing on credit and eating out like 5 nights a week. I carried around some debt for awhile, but then in 2013 lost my job and the debt spiraled out of control. I did a lot of research and found this non-profit, InCharge, that consolidated my debt for me. They work with the credit companies to lower your interest rates and your monthly payment. They also have great customer service and are super helpful. I&m currently 47% debt free after paying a monthly payment for about the last 18 months. If you have a lot of unmanageable debt, I highly recommend it.8. Download Free Books!
(and I&m pretty sure like every library now) has a program where you can check out books and download them to your Kindle or tablet or whatever for free. You don&t even have to venture out to the actual library. And it&s free! Instead of spending $11.99 on Aziz Ansari&s Modern Romance, I downloaded a copy for two weeks for $0. Sure, they aren&t always available right then, but you can put a copy on hold and wait until it&s available. They have audiobooks and movies and all sorts of stuff. Modern technology and libraries are a seriously underutilized service. 9. Flexible Spending. My benefits at work include a flexible spending program that covers medical expenses for pre-tax. This includes glasses and contacts, therapist copays, and all sorts of things. I put $800 a year in this fund which comes straight out of my paycheck. If you have this benefit, take advantage. I take 4 prescriptions a month and if I can do that tax free, that makes a world of difference. 10. . Birchbox is a monthly beauty sample subscription. You make think a $10 a month beauty subscription would be a waste of money, but for me I make the $10 plus more back each month. Each time you get a box, you can review products for points each month. You get 10 points per product review, so it usually takes 2 months to earn a $10 credit in points. Plus, you get points for every order you make. They also send you tons of coupons and 20% off codes and goodness like that. This saves me lots compared to just going into a boutique (I&m a Benefit addict) and purchasing the stuff. I&ve also made enough orders that now I get free shipping. If you&re picky about your products, but also like to try new stuff, Birchbox is amazing.11. Vintage Shopping. I live on 18th street, which is lined with amazing vintage stores. Instead of spending $100 for a new dress at J.crew (or whatever your favorite store is), I go into a vintage store and get something unique and amazing for $20-$40. The stuff always fits me better (I&m curvy and tall) and no one else is going to have the same item. Oh and the vintage shoes! Amazing. Plus they made stuff solid back in the day, none of this throw away stuff we buy in stores today. So that is how I make my fabulous life happen. Maybe it&s not as fabulous as some, but it works okay for me, most of the time. Any tips you have for spending and living on a single girl budget?-Melinda
Him: Hahaha you feel asleep on the phone.
me: Hahahaha Oh no. I am the worst. I&m sorry!
him: Don&t be
me:&Haha ok. I feel like I&m showing you the real me probably too quickly.
him: I want the real you
Him post my drunk dial/falling asleep on the phone incident.
My BFF got married last weekend! They asked me to write something for the wedding, and here it is. Congrats to my favorite people maybe on the planet.When he asks you to dance, dance. Maybe it doesn&t have to be on the giant speakers of C-street, but there will always be somewhere to dance.Hold his hand. Bring him a sweatshirt. Pour him a glass of whiskey, neat, after a long day.Tell him he looks handsome. Every day if you need to. Tell him. Go the Emergency Room. Go. Be there. And please be there to take his best friend when she slips on the ice and breaks her ankle. Drink champagne. Spring for the good stuff sometimes. Pick him up after a long or even a short trip. Bring him flowers. Send him a valentine. Remember his birthday. Say you&re sorry. Dote on him. Hold hands.Reminisce. But live for what&s ahead.Spoon. Kiss. Sleep in together.After he loses his hair, tell him he still looks beautiful.He will still need you when you&re 64. Forgive easily. Ask for forgiveness.Admire him. For all the beautiful gestures and talent and love and generosity. Remember you are a better person with him.Love him more the next day than you did the night before. Never forget this beautiful day where you declared to each other, &i do&. Just don&t forget to dance. There is always somewhere to dance. -Melinda
Dearest Uber Driver,Thank you for taking me home, driving all the way from Uptown to Pilsen, with me sobbing my eyes out down my gown. I&m sorry I audibly weeped in the backseat of your SUV. I am now the typical white, drunk girl after a wedding. Of course, per usual, it was about a boy.I didn&t really get to explain it to you through those sobs, but just last week a dude told me he &wanted me in his life.& After almost two years of going back and forth about this, it was finally what I wanted to hear. Like wow, this time it may really, for real work. I know, I know. I should fucking know better. I&m an idiot. Why do I do this to myself? Why do I believe him? Because now, here I am on a Saturday night, looking the most gorgeous I&ve looked maybe ever in my life, blubbering in your backseat (well I looked gorgeous, pre-cry face).See, he told me to come to his event/show/performance like days ago. Of course in the days between he had flaked on me, just like he had millions of times for the last two years. But I needed to know. So, I made another dumb ass decision and showed up, because he told me to. And because he &wanted me in his life.& Okay then, I&ll be in your life.Just for the record, this was a public event. It&s not like I showed up to a party. No, I was at the bar, having a drink. I didn&t throw my panties on stage, I merely sat there and paid, btw, 9 freaking dollars for a stupid beer and drank it. (I was like, umm, &I gave you a ten?& Was that beer made of tears of elves?) Oh yeah, after paying $5 cover that I wish I would&ve burned in the street instead. And then at the set break, he asked me to come outside. Ah nice, yeah, let&s take a walk. And then he asked me to leave. Something about the bandmate is an ex-girlfriend. What?! A) you told me she&s a lesbian and b) so you can&t have any other girls come sit in the corner and have a beer and watch your stupid fucking band? Ever? Well that is just bad business.I can&t even explain to you about beautiful I looked that night. I had sprung for this way too expensive floor length gown for the wedding. I had such a great night and had just seen my best friend get married. It was heavenly. He may as well have taken a club and beat me in the head on Lawrence Avenue. That would&ve been less painful. And maybe then I would&ve been so knocked out I would&ve been numb.I immediately, mouth open in shock, turned around and walked the other way through the shady parking lot, only to return to the bar, because, well I paid $9 for that damned beer and I was going to finish it. I should&ve stayed just to be an asshole, but of course, there I was humiliated and called you to pick me up. So that, sir, was why I was weeping. I&m sure you gave me a very high star rating after that one. I&m sorry. I should know better than to attempt to have feelings.Oh, and you know the best part? Just a few minutes after you dropped me off, my ex, who I hadn&t talked to in months left me a voicemail about wanting to do very adult things. In the morning I told him he could take me to dinner, then discuss the possibility of doing those adult things. That, of course, wasn&t an option for him. Ahh, good times.Another day, another dude in Chicago dead to me. Oh, make that two.Love,Melinda
Y&all. i am dry. So dry. As my coworker says,&&My phone is soooo dry.& (PS I gave her number out today.) I couldn&t bleed my phone, text messages, email, Facebook, WhatsApp, Kik, you name it, for a message from anyone.Of course, I get the occasional Tinder message about&&What&s up beautiful?& or something else cheesy and I can barely sum up the energy or care to respond. Or I find out they&re really in town for two days. You&re in Chicago for 2 days? And on Tinder? Well if that doesn&t sound like a long term lasting relationship, I don&t know what does. (EYE ROLL. *Unmatch*.)I forget what it&s like to go on dates or even want to go on dates.&And on top of it, I picked up a side gig bartending weddings. WEDDINGS. Where people have met and fallen in love and there was like enough time to rent out the Nature Museum and hire me to bartend. Oh the horror. Not only do i spend my time working 60 hour weeks, now I&m watching people commit their lives to each other while watching their guests dance to Taylor Swift. EVERY WEEKEND.&2 weeks ago, the groom was beautiful. Exactly my type. And all I could do was think, why? How did he meet her and not me? Can I run away with him? Corner him in the back? Wink at him as a pass him an IPA and ask him to annul?Then last shift, I bartended for someone I went to college with. Okay, so I didn&t know her, but I had to listen to the toast about how the bride met the maid of honor at Illinois at Bromley Hall on move in day. How she met an Australian and he MOVED HERE for her. Jeez, I can&t get anyone to come to Pilsen, let alone move continents.&While I know this sounds like whining, what I mean to say is that I&m absolutely amazed that anyone finds anyone else in this crazy world. I am literally baffled by that possibility anymore. And this last woman, we lived the same life. We spent the same amount of time at the same school and moved to the same city and probably worked 4 blocks from each other in a mid manager job and she meets a dude with a cool accent who moves to the US for her? And what? I&ve been single for years, minus a short stint a year ago with a dude who wouldn&t come to the emergency room for me (can you tell I&m bitter?).&I truly, deeply, am happy for these people. I just honestly don&t believe it can happen to me.&I was reflecting on this blog from a few years ago and read this to myself:He&s tall, and gorgeous, very smart, helpful, kind. I honestly admire all the things I know about him and told him how he handles situations so beautifully. Someone who I would never consider my type, but somehow won me over with his charm and wit. With this accent that makes me swoon a bit.&Oh my gosh, I don&t remember the last time I swooned. I have the ability to do that? (Ew, and he is a .)Oh wait,
what it&s like. Pointless.&Dry. So dry.-Melinda
A as &an expected event that fails to take place or to
&an often highly publicized event of little intrinsic interest or significance& or &an occurrence that is officially ignored.&And that&s exactly what he is. A nonevent.I remember learning the definition of &non-event& in graduate school, when we analyzed how trauma could affect young adults, and that a nonevent could have just as much significance as an actual event. And as I&ve learned lately, just as much in heartbreak.&Feel the ground shake, and my bones ache, say what a good night for a heartbreak.&His damned music is still on my shuffle in my music library and comes through my earbuds after a long week. Ironically, the song is titled &Heartbreak&. Or unironically maybe? (I don&t know if I&ve ever fully grasped the real meaning of the literary term.)The last stream of text messages was something about, &Are you a sadist?& and &F& you.&He is a series of nonevents, both events failing to take place and so many occurrences officially ignored, spanning well over a year. There was literally months, almost years spanning across these nonevents. So why does it hurt so much?I haven&t been writing lately. I really haven&t had much to say. Sure, some events were happening, but none that were worth any of my time or energy to tell you about. And for the most part, there still isn&t much to say.We spent only two nights in a bed asleep together. We spent mere hours sitting on my porch (him drinking my beer) and talking. That was it. There was so much talk about events. About moving in (to my place), about having babies (they&d be tall), about the future.I&m stuck in the form of heartbreak that if you tried to describe what happened, there is basically almost no story to tell. A nonevent.I haven&t sobbed, full out tears shooting out of my face, about a man, in at least 4 years. But even that was a few weeks ago. The stupid song in my headphones reminds me. And reminds me he still has my college windbreaker, damn it. And that his birthday is next week. And that mine passed with no recognition from him. I send him a message to tell him I want my damned windbreaker back.-Melinda
&Dudes on Tinder with Tigers and Lions, #2.&
My curation of &Dudes on Tinder with Tigers and Lions, #1.&
Last summer, I was sitting in New York&s Bryant Park at 10pm. I had been on a bus for like 5 hours and had spent 5 days in the mountains. Spirit Airlines had just told me they were canceling my flight and I was to be in NYC for at least 3 days. Of course, I&m broke, with nowhere to stay with only some dirty clothes.First off, eff you Spirit Airlines. I was sitting there on my phone yelling at Spirit, frantically on my computer trying to figure out if I was going to have to sleep in Bryant Park or if I could figure out something and somewhere to go. I had just turned 32 years old, but being in a city I don&t know and being broke made me revert to wanting to cry like a lost child who had gotten separated from her mom in a shopping mall.So there I was, not at my finest moment, nor looking my most beautiful, when a guy stopped me and said something about how he wanted to tell me I was the most beautiful. It was a weird moment, and when dudes say this crap to me (not that it happens often), I ignore them. But I suppose I was at a vulnerable moment, and I stopped to talk with him for a few minutes. He offered me his card, and I took it. I saw he worked in academia, had a similar job to what I used to have. It was one of those moments. A summer night in Manhattan, twinkle lights, a beautiful man telling me I&m beautiful, it was like out of a Woody Allen movie. Or maybe a Judd Apatow film. Anyway, here&s the thing& I had a boyfriend.A boyfriend I was about to break up with after he couldn&t even take care of my poor dogs while I was out of town (one job dude, one job). I had already made up my mind he was getting the ax. So when I met up with Bryant Park dude the next night, I didn&t explain to him there was a boyfriend at home in Chicago.We had one of those sort of magical, New York, hazy dates. We went a bunch of places and he paid (!) for everything. There were lots of drinks consumed. He talked to me about moving to New York and how he wanted to get married and all those things a girl wants to hear. It was like the night&s soundtrack was &Empire State of Mind.&I returned to Chicago the next day after waking up in Brooklyn a bit hungover, took a flight back to Chicago, asked the boyfriend to pick me up at the Blue Line (with my car) (he said no), and walked with all my crap the mile to his house in humid, horrid Chicago. I still smelled like New York and the Bryant Park guy.I broke up with my boyfriend while driving on the Kennedy home to Pilsen. Bryant Park texted to see if I made it home okay. I&m not sure I even responded. So this not that exciting story to explain, ummm, this NEVER happens in Chicago or when I&m single. Is there no romance in Chicago!? Dudes barely talk to me in public, let alone tell me I&m beautiful while sitting in a park and give me their card. One of the last OkCupid messages I received was, &I&m looking to hook up, that cool?&(No really, this happened)In the last week, I&ve also been messaging with two different men who explained to me we&ve already been on dates. TWO GUYS, people. Who I didn&t even remember or recognize. We had already been on dates. Damn. I don&t really believe in you, Chicago. I&m not sure I believe in love. I certainly don&t believe in twinkly lights and men planning a future with me. Prove me wrong Chicago. Do it. I dare you.-Melinda
Trying to get motivated to get some writing done, so reading through some of my old stuff. I read this one at our show in February 2013, but never published it.&I am in love with a Republican. A tall Bostonian one who wears solid black or navy suits during the week and Polo shirts, unironically, on the weekends. Is employed in finance and says things like and &ahhht& (art) &Bahhhstahn& (Boston)& Who fly fishes and voted for Romney. One who drinks Manhattans, straight up, just like I like them. His name is one of those 4 letter White dude names, like Chad, or Matt, or Bill. The white dudes with 4 letter names are not quite my thing&Not since college anyway, when the important qualities of a potential boyfriend were which fraternity he was president of and which Champaign bar he chose as his usual hangout.So you imagine my surprise finding myself naked at 3:00 in the morning in a twin bed asking if he truly believes Romney is the correct choice. &There are two things I have learned that never mix, politics and alcohol,& &he says to me, avoiding the question. I decide he&s probably right and we should just return to making out instead.A few minutes earlier, in said twin bed in my 8& x 8& &hotel& room, I slide his orange tie out of the knot and unbutton his shirt. I try to think of the last time I dated a guy who wore ties, because he had to, for like a job. He had laid his suit jacket gingerly on top of my suitcase, as not to wrinkle. The room is so tiny, there isn&t a full wall for the bathroom, just a teeny half wall that barely hides the toilet and shower. At one point, he takes a piss and stands in the hotel room while simultaneously peeing into the toilet. I lay naked on the twin bed in the cell of a room.I had travelled to Boston on business, for a non-profit whose budgets don&t allow for fancy and overpriced downtown hotels, leaving me in a twin bed in a converted broom closet that they called a room. He, a volunteer for the organization, picked me up at the hotel on a Tuesday night, as I waited not-so-patiently outside on the block for about 48 minutes. During the 2 hour ride in traffic, we chitchat about random bullshit stuff, and I get the impression this guy is an asshole. Dudes in suits with fancy watches who own bluetooth headsets don&t turn me on (you may recall my love for the hipsters). He spends most of the time in busy traffic texting and talking on the phone and I clutch the side panel, hoping we don&t crash and roll my eyes out the window.After our meeting in the Boston suburbs, he drives me back to my hotel, telling me to meet up with him later that week. He gives advice on where to venture to take in some arts and culture. I ignore him, shake his hand, and promptly get out of the car, glad to be rid of him. Later he told me, &You.shook.my.hand.& What was I supposed to do?Later that week, he asks me to meet up with him and a few other of the guys. I&ve already lost his number. I email, hoping he won&t answer and I&ll be able to go back to the minuscule hotel room after a long week of meetings and travel. He does answer, and I reluctantly agree. I arrive at the bar, 30 minutes late, after the new Apple maps gives me entirely wrong directions. He gives me a hug when I enter. I think, &Oh, so we are hugging now?&I take down a beer a little too fast for a business type appearance, then realize they&ve all had a few, so suppose it&s probably fine. The crowd thins out, but we linger with a few others and head to the next place. I kick ass in some foosball, the night speeds by, and his smile starts to get to me. Maybe it was the copious amounts of tequila, beer, and Jameson, but I notice his eyes, framed by dark, long lashes, the fact that he&s 6&4&, and wearing that damned suit.It&s time to go, and he offers a friend and myself a ride back to our respective dwellings. I oblige. He starts making his way to my hotel, and suddenly realizes he should take his friend home first. He turns around to go completely in the other direction so he can drop me off last.&I think we should have one more drink&& I say. Soon, we&re walking into the W. This turns into a barcrawl around the neighborhood, and finally, we end up in that twin bed in room 513. We lay entwined in the sheets of the twin bed that I haven&t had changed all week because I don&t like random people going through my stuff. In the morning, he gets up to leave. He mentions a possible visit to Chicago. I tell him he is welcome to stay with me. He says, &We&ll get a hotel room.& Because he is probably the first man on my list who can afford a hotel room. I fall back asleep and wake up hungover, exhausted, and recall that I just got f*cked by a Republican, and it was actually good. At first, the fact that he lives in Boston is perfect. I have no panic of whether or not I&ll see him, because I probably never will, and if I do, it will be hot sex in a room with at least a queen size bed in a city where I am visiting or he is. The sense to make it magical and enchanted, rather than deal with the mundane details of real life. A year ago, I told you about my love for hipsters, with their emo tattoos, face piercings, skinny jeans, and their rickshaw driver roommates. The Republican&s tattoo is his fraternity letters. He has no piercings, does not wear skinny jeans, and has no roommates. He has a 9-5 job, understands my career, and did not go to art school. So how exactly did I fall in love with a Republican? &I have nightmares about being one of those women that says, &Well I used to be a Democrat until I met my husband,& as she laughs with the trophy wives at the country club. And I have questions as well such as: Who will go to hipster music festivals with me? Will we have to watch FOX news? What the fuck is fly fishing exactly? We are meeting in New York next week. I suggested staying in Williamsburg. He suggested the Financial District. I imagine this conflict a metaphor for the rest of our existence, whatever that may be.The rest of our existence was not long, and the trip to NYC was awful. I also have realized he looks quite a lot like Ted Cruz, which just freaks me out.-Melinda
I have now been on a date with every man in Chicago. Twice.&-Melinda
Sorry I have been MIA. My dating life sucks.
But if Solo in the 2nd City had a book club, would you come?
There would be lots of wine. Obvi.
Shameless Plug: I&ll be doing standup tonight at Berlin! Come party! -JWReese
The inevitable finally happened. I ran into my ex on thestreet after about 2 years of not seeing him. He is the guy I spent two yearsof my life with and also the guy who I didn&t realize was so amazing until
after we split. He is the guy who constantly haunts my dreams and thoughts
during most of my waking hours. He is the guy who got away after finally giving
up on me and my inability to fully commit. He is the guy who I have always
wanted to talk to one last time and tell him just how sorry I am for hurting
him and pushing him away. He was my guy. During
our relationship I broke every rule in the book because at that point I was
about five chapters behind him. He sticks around in my head because I never got
to tell him how sorry I am for how I acted during the relationship. I own that
I was the problem and it kills me that I cannot tell him. &Today
was my chance. I absentmindedly took a weird route walking to work and passed
right by him. I never go that way but I did today. He looked good and in those
moments before he noticed me he looked happy. I saw him notice me and
immediately deflate into a stern face, which can only be described as dripping
with distain. The sheer sight of me completely changed his mood. I&m not
I wouldn&t want to talk to me either after the mess I made. We made
eye contact briefly and I suddenly jerked my head away. I didn&t want to say
anything to him after he had made it so clear he did not want to speak to me
ever again and this reaction let me know he still felt that way. The moment
passed and I shuffled down the street, not looking back. I
had played that moment out in my head so many times with many different
scenarios. Sometimes I run up to him and hug him other times he punches me in
the face. But today when it finally played out I left him alone and let him go.
Some guys get away while others get pushed away. He got away because I pushed
him. JWReese
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