2002-11-17 || 1:33 a.m.

|| we are dancing cheek to cheek ||

tonight we rode in a taxi. ton wore a beret. i wore a wig. we drank one vodka drink each on empty stomachs and got a little tipsy, a little. tonight my ex-boyfriend, the one i am trying very hard not to think about for a while, the one i spend all day trying not to think about, was standing eleven point three feet away from me while a band played. i tried very hard not to look at him.

at the bar i looked up and he was looking and we waved very congenial awkward ex-waves.

during the encore, fuelled by vodka and wig, (i happen to think it is a spectacular wig, by the way. i happen to think it is . em. you know samantha's evil sister on bewitched? like that.) i walked over and we hugged and.

it was awful. not as in my heart is breaking can i borrow that fork to gouge out my eyeballs so i won't ever have to look at you ever again awful, but as in i am going to look back on this later on tonight and heave a very melancholy sigh and i just don't think it's ever going to work out with the boys if this is how things inevitably turn out.

him: "you got a haircut."

me: "ha ha."

him: "good show, huh?" (or something equally as empty and awkward and forced and i don't know what i was expecting but it felt like something one would say to the daughter of your mother's bridge partner.)

and a good song started and he was very interested in this good song and i kind of grabbed his elbow and walked away and

this is how it is going to be.

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