All better

I was an emotional and physical wreck yesterday.

Truth be told, I'm a little surprised that someone I broke up with almost a year ago can still have such an effect on me. I'm a little disappointed, too. But, I did give myself yesterday to wallow and cry and get angry and be illin' with the understanding that I would wake up today and be fine. And I am. Yee haw.

Last night, between Runaway Bride and Sweet November (shut up), I went to Duane Reade to pick up some toilet paper, kitty litter, paper towels, Listerine and cigarettes. Oh, this exciting life I lead. Anyway, a grayish older man was ahead of me in line, and two goth girls were behind me. Because there is only ever one register open at this particular Duane Reade, we had ample time to get to know one another.

The older man, with his tube of K-Y lubricant, was staring down the hair dye-purchasing goth girls. So much so that it was making me uncomfortable. I decided the man was creepy, because I don't waste any time making harsh judgments on strangers. When it was his turn to be rung up, he very kindly asked me if I would like to put the kitty litter down on the counter, that it must be heavy. I thanked him and put it down.

When his money was collected and his K-Y was tucked away in a tiny Duane Reade bag, he opened up a giant can of weird. He told me to have a good night, and told me not to end up like the goth girls. Then he began a tirade about how they had the worst fashion sense ever! And how could they leave the house like that! And everything stopped – the cashier did not ring me up, the goth girls stood there, mouths agape, I kept repeating don't make eye contact don't make eye contact over and over to myself. He went on for a good three minutes, before turning on his heel and storming out of the store. Huh?

The goth girls, who really did look awfully cute giggled and one said "Wow, someone forgot to take his medication." The cashier started mumbling about all the freaks in the neighborhood. I was just glad that my sweatpants and "hip hop" T-shirt (with a bunny) were not the clothing items that set him off. When I got home, a kid across the way spent two hours terrorizing me with a laser pointer, and effectively ruined Sweet November for me. Or maybe it was Keanu. Anyway, I love this weird fucking city. Now, I'm off to the gym to stalk the boy I have a raging crush on. More on him later.