You know, I’m getting older. I have lived this life of excitement and leisure. I have lived in beautiful places, had sex with handsome men, and i am not sure why I’m supposed to care. I watched the Academy Awards last night…alone. Bradley had to go to Spain for this writing thing over the weekend and I’m here in my apartment wishing that I had something to do. I do not want to drink, or smoke, or dance. I want to have a stimulating conversation with someone lovely.
I know I sound bat-shit crazy and this is not my normal tone of things, but I reflected on how many stable and real relationships that I have been in…no comment. I actually started thinking today about this single life that I have been leading. To those who read often, which is few, this is not my usual mantra. I know it seems like Bradley and I are together, but there is something that is not there…because of me. I have blocked him from loving me in the way that a man should. I like Bradley because he is fun and free, nothing more.
I went to the library and there was a woman scratching herself and singing loudly in front of a blank computer screen. For the ten seconds that I had my eyes on her, I had the scary flash of utter fear. Did she party hard and go through an array of gentleman that led to her sitting here with no one? I can not become that woman. My mother, before she left, told me to: get married young, divorce at 40, take the riches and run. Looking at the library lounge singing, my mothers words sound more exciting than before.
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