It Came Upon a Midnight Clear...

A glorious song of old...

Tonight I am going out for an evening of dinner, drinks and dancing... Very Old New York, seeing how it's a kind of reunion of sorts with people I haven't seen or spoken to in person for a very long time. There are old friends who have moved away, new friends I've kept in contact with.... and there are friends that are a bit more, shall we say, complicated?

I'm talking about Paris. I haven't seen him since June or really spoken to him since my decision to, well, stop talking to him. And since then we've spoke here and there, but nothing like we used to. Long conversations throughout the day, playful flirting and mis-spoken sentences have dissipated to 'good mornings' and 'have a great weekend'... you know, things you'd say to an acquaintance. I admit I miss the friendship we used to have, but I don't miss the mind-fucks I'd find myself in, unable and unwilling to move away from what was obviously destructive to my head.

To recap: Paris and I have had this quasi-but-not-really relationship for about a year now; we clicked instantaneously but only after he had left the city for another. I thought we clicked one way, he thought another, I put myself out there, he returned an ambiguous answer and actions that followed until recently this year. My summary does no justice but for the sake of my returning readers I must continue.

This evening, at a formal function (to which I am wearing a low cut halter v neck fire engine red Grecian style dress with fabulous silver shoes) with hundreds of people, friends and strangers... I'll see him again. This week he kept asking me if I was excited to go, excited to see people; which I am. I'm excited to finally meet the face behind the message, or the person behind the voice, or even more, the fuckwit behind all those rude comments. But I can't help but wonder what my reaction will be when I see Paris again. 5 months is a long time; in 180 days anything and everything can happen... and pretty much did.

When you make a decision to cut destructive personnel out of your life, whether it be because of embarrassment, bad chemistry or simple annoyance (I refer to people who bring the worst in you out for reasons you can't explain) you don't really plan on a reunion anytime soon. The risk of being pulled back into the fire is omnipresent, especially if there is music and wine where you and your excommunicated meet again. But at the same time I refuse to NOT live my life, especially when the party, drinks, food and lodging is on someone else's credit card.

So what's my plan? Look hot - act cool. Enjoy the evening with familiar friends and make some new ones; eat, drink and be merry... and be sure to return to my room the same way I plan on leaving it; solo.