I've hated winter since I moved here in 2007, but after last year's Winter Games I'm not completely repulsed by the idea of cold coming to the District once again. What is saddest to me this end of summer is all the changes that are happening almost at once.
First there are the friends. Megan got married last month, and this weekend Ashmi got engaged (good job, Raghav!!!).
Now that's what I call engaged!
Also, Ashmi decided to quit her job and go to grad school to pursue her dream, food. She moves to Boston in a couple of weeks, and we're having our Last Supper at Co Co. Sala, since she was the one who introduced me to it when it first opened.
And then there's Margaret, the roomie, who is moving to NYC soon. I can't even get started on that now. I'll have to write an "in memoriam" blog about our three years together later.
The second big change is my job. Oh, the joys of being a defense contractor. Last week I suddenly had no job because the contract ended (really? twice in one year?), but my company rocks and placed me somewhere else, so I start the new gig today. (What am I doing writing a blog post when I should be getting ready?)
But the change that's hurting the most right now is the end of my Summer Love. Yes, Kanunu aka Cute Boy and I ended it this weekend. Or maybe I just ended it. He didn't say much. Why don't boys talk when we need them to?! Argh!!!
He announced to me Friday night that he was moving home to Texas, which wouldn't be a huge problem since he doesn't plan to do it till next year, but he also leaves for Oktoberfest in Germany in a couple of weeks and is staying for two months. I just felt like that was too big of a test for a new relationship. I cried, he apologized, and then when it was getting a little bit too hard for either of us to handle anymore (I could barely keep my eyes open at that point) he kissed me on the forehead and left. I heard the front door click shut, curled up in a ball on my bed, and tried to convince myself it was for the best.
I called the bff Kristen the next morning and told her what happened.
"Did you cry?" she asked. Except I heard "Did he cry?"
"No, but his eyes were red."
She laughed. "I meant you, but I like how you were looking for him to cry."
"Yes, but it would have been awful if he had cried."
"Oh I know," she said. "If guys could only realize that if they would just squeeze out a tear, we would be horrified and stop crying and yelling at them. They hold all the power in the situation, really."
It's true. I remember moving to California years ago, and I'd been sobbing for hours, and then my boyfriend at the time lost it and my tears dried up immediately. HORRIFYING. (Not because it's gross that a guy would cry, but we just don't know how to help them. Yes, in this situation, they hold all the power.)
I spent Saturday eating, staring, sleeping, crying...not necessarily in that order. Did not at any point wash my hair, and I really needed to. At least I brushed my teeth, that was a step in the right direction.
Sunday was better. I went to my church meeting, had lunch at my cousin's house, came home and did laundry (I've been sleeping on a bed with no sheets for three nights in a row), and then went to dinner at Rasika to meet a friend, K. (Get the crispy spinach -- amaaaaaaaaaazing! And surprisingly good break-up food.) I wore a little black dress with red heels, but every time some guy looked at me I scowled. How dare they? Don't they know I have feelings for somebody else and I'm DYING inside??? Oh, oh...and the text I got form Kenny the Foursquare stalker wasn't any help either. And I quote: "You seem cool and go to hip places. Creepy but what's social networking for?" Is Foursquare giving out my phone number now? I gotta learn privacy settings.
I really didn't want to go to dinner. I wanted to cry. And the only way to keep myself from crying was to make mean faces and silently judge all happy people in relationships. To make matters worse, K was excited to hear all the details about my budding relationship, as she herself was in a wonderful relationship with a wonderful man and I was sure they were getting engaged at any moment.
Fighting the tears, I walked into the the restaurant, shoulders back, head held high, determined to have a lovely time.
K smiled big. "I want to hear everything!"
"We broke up," I crumbled, slumping in my seat.
"Oh. We broke up too," she said, her voice and face dropping.
"OH MY GOSH WHAT ARE WE DOING IN PUBLIC?!" I said way too loudly. We both laughed, and we both got watery eyes. Then we ordered bourbon. (Possibly not the best idea.)
So we both told our stories -- hers WAY more dramatic than mine (they broke up the day before they were supposed to go to a wedding! And they still went together! I told her that's the scene in a romantic comedy right before you meet the man you're going to marry. It could happen.). It was good to get it out and commiserate, especially since there's nothing like heartache to make you feel so alone in the world.
There's also nothing like heartache to remind you that you're still human and not some zombie, heartless working girl who thinks being alone is fabulous. So this time, there will be no cupcake eating, no bag buying and getting over it. My first summer living in DC was worth every penny, even if it's ending on a bittersweet note.