On Saturday night I attended a hipster party (MisShapes DJ’s! Ultragrrrl! Project Runway winner Christian) for a very talented photographer named Brad Walsh.
The route to the party was eerily familiar to me. I’ve driven my car across Manhattan Bridge many times to visit the dude I was once madly in love with.
The party was held in a basement — I gulped lots of cranberry cocktail concoctions, flirted with gays boys in high school and dance to Whitney Houston tunes with James Brown (I wanna dance with SOMEBODY! I wanna feel the HEAT with SOMEBODY!)
Around midnight, James Brown, Big Gay Al and I left the party and walked to my car. We stumbled upon a tranny-looking gal posing with her legs spread open on the hood of my car, as if she were filming a Warrant music video.
“I’m sooooo sorry!” Tranny slurred as writhed her body away from the car.
“Hey no problem, I’m honored. It’s a sexy Volkswagen,” I said with a grin.

As I drove home we laughed about the odd encounter until I gasped. I didn’t realize that I would be driving past my ex’s apartment. His light was on and I felt a chill run through my body.
I thought about the bizarre way we broke up, the things I discovered abot him after the relationship was over. It felt like someone I thought had died, came back to life…and the light was evidence that the ghost was alive and well.
It made me sad and I didn’t want to sleep alone.
I quickly texted my current beau to see if we could hang but he was in different neighborhood of Brooklyn and I had to take my dear friends home. Rather than run to the arms of a guy I somewhat knew, I drove home to my parent’s house. I ended up snuggling with Mimosa, my family’s cheery Golden Retriever. I made a wise choice for once in my life.
Yet, here I am, 8 months after we broke up, still feeling sadness and emptiness in my heart. I’ve been in “interesting” relationships, my friends rule the world, I love my family more than life itself, my writing career has never been better…yet I wonder when I’ll finally get over him, get over the fact that our relationship was a facade.