Remember the scene from Breakfast at Tiffany's where

that dude says this big thing:

"You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken, you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, 'Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness.' You call yourself a free spirit, a 'wild thing,' and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself."



Well here's what- if love is the only chance any of us have at experiencing 'real happiness' we're all fucked.

Ugh, it's so overdone.

It never ends.

"I'll be at Chiane's for 1:30. Just text me if you're not coming."

He never came and he never texted.
I waited for 20 minutes before I got the nerve to walk back to my car and drive home.
A few nights later, I smoke pot with my ex-boyfriend and Doug calls him.
My ex informs him I'm at the party.
I'm in the kitchen saying goodbye to everyone when he walks in, gives me a shit-eating grin and I can't help but smile back. Then again, what does one do in situations like these? I leave sad and stoned and exhausted.

Tonight, as I'm finishing up my book, I get a phone call.
I don't recognize the number so I call back.
They don't pick up but I hear a familiar voice on the answering machine.

Joe calls back a few moments later asking, rather politely to his credit, if I knew where he could score some coke. I respond, "Well yes, but surely not right now. It's 10:30 on a monday night."

He says thanks, and says that I should expect to hear from him soon.
He was always well-mannered.