On Saturday night E.S. and I went to Margaret Cho’s Assassin; it was the first time we’d ever seen her live, and we shrieked with laughter through the entire thing.
Far more deeply satisfying, however, was going to the bathroom before the show started and seeing a man with whom I’d gone on a date over three years ago and who was the subject of my very first blog post ever. I had a great time on the date. He, evidently, did not, as evidenced by his rejection of me in an email in which he did not capitalize the first-person singular pronoun.
And on Saturday, he looked terrible. He hadn’t gotten fat, but his face was so lined and haggard and droopy as to suggest years spent wandering in the desert in search of the Promised Land.
Far be it from me to suggest that he had the Promised Land within his grasp and that his present desiccation is merely the natural result of his failure to do anything about it when he had the chance.
2) AMAZINGLY satisfying isn’t it?
Apparently he must have spent some time in that circle of Hell into which you consigned him.
Nothing is better than looking fabulous when you run into the person who rejected you years ago. Especially if they look tired. Ahhh, the glory of it all.
We caught her when she was doing London a couple of months back; I love that woman – she reminds me of a crazy lady who looked after me as a kid in Kuala Lumpur. It explains a lot.
Clearly, he realized, even three years ago, that he was simply not good enough for you, and that realization left him a hollow, broken man. So perhaps a little pity is in order.
But seriously. You did introduce him to your fabulous boyfriend and talk about how tiring all the publicity associated with your new book would be if you weren’t in such great shape from teaching aerobics to celebrities, right?
That poor man. Imagine the unending feeling of loss!
I love reading your blog, so you can imagine my happiness when I saw you on Gothamist today!!
You made work bearable today.
Outstanding. I once ran into someone I had dated who had treated me horribly (he double-booked dates with me and another woman on VALENTINE’S DAY). I was with a very good friend, having lunch. The Ex came over and made conversation (leaving his fuming girlfriend a few tables over), and when he left, I said to my friend, “He looks like shit.”
“Whereas you look fabulous,” she responded.
It was a delicious moment.
Do any of the haiku pertain to the pruny ex?
Ah! That was THIS Saturday? At the Beacon, right? That’s right across the street from me. I should have come back and tackled you!
The same thing has happened to me several times . . . it’s definitely satisfying, but far more importantly, it’s always a huge relief to realize that I didn’t get stuck with someone who didn’t age well . . .
Are you implying that you contain some youth-sustaining properties? Or at least some type of moisturizer?