Drinking and facebook


I love to read. I don’t do it as much as I used to when I lived in Brooklyn, and had a 45 minute commute to the museum I worked at in Queens, but I try to read at least a little everyday. Someone once said to me- those who love to read are never alone. And I think it’s true. A whole other world exists out there that you can get to only through books. More often than not when I read something I love I feel inspired but every once in a while it can be incredibly intimidating and paralyzing.  And then I know I must start to write, no matter what it is I write about, or I will loose my nerve. That is what I’m working with today. The fear that I will judge everything I write, deem it not good enough, and then spiral into a frozen abyss.

Last week I went for drinks after work with a few of the cooks and my friend who was managing that night. We went to Bigfoot, which is not that far from work, and also where Leo and I met. I had not been there since that day. The bar was nearly empty and we stayed until the lights came up. Then once the bar closed we stood outside talking for awhile. I didn’t really think of Leo, even though all we did was talk about relationships and sex and heartache, but of course he was still there in spirit*

I don’t know if it was the G&Ts or if being in that bar made me nostalgic but when I got home I logged back in to my facebook account. I don’t do facebook anymore. I find it doesn’t contribute anything of value to my life. Sure, it was fun seeing what people I went to elementary school with looked like as adults. Sure, it was fun reconnecting with old summer camp buddies or long lost friends but after that it just became a time-suck and the whole thing is just weird. But there I was at 2:30 am looking at what 150 of my closets friends had been up to in the last five months. And, of course, eventually I wondered over to Leo’s page. Now if you read this blog regularly you know that that is not my style. I have tried very hard to not bring any extra Leo stimulation into my life. But there I was. And there he was looking thinner, smiling, cavorting at his friend’s wedding wearing a shirt I bought him (or at the very least insisted he buy) at Paul Smith. And it shook me up. I couldn’t help thinking this should have been my wedding (or at the very least I should have been cavorting with him at that wedding.) Now, don’t think just because I’m writing this that I wish that things would have turned out different. I don’t. But a part of me, a smallish part of me, couldn’t help thinking how strange that his friend got married but we didn’t.

Ever since that night I have felt liberated. Not all at once but little by little as the days went by. And more and more my personal truth about the disintegration of my relationship emerges. That, as has always been the case in all my long term relationships, I outgrew it. The safety, the warmth, the companionship, the support, the fun, and even the periods after the break-up have always shown light in the missing pieces of myself and helped me grow more confident.


* “The experience of a city is made up of a constant negotiation with the ghost and residues of previous experience, most notably in Paris, with the ghost of insurrection and revolution, but also in Berlin which for Benjamin was above all a city of ghosts.” Howard Caygill (Walter Benjamin: The colour of experience)

One Response to “Drinking and facebook”

  1. I'm convinced that Facebook only exists to remind us of our past failed relationships. I definitely find myself peaking on ex's pages every now and then, it's a bit frustrating – always imagining "what could've been" if things worked out a little differently. It happens, our brains are always drawing up possibilities. Thankfully, there are also many other possibilities waiting for us in the future. Just gotta hang in there and eventually we'll find someone who is right.