After the happy hour on Friday (nice to see you all, forgive me for not individually linking back to you; am even more wrapped in myself than usual today), Hey Pretty and I went to our friend's birthday party at Peyote. The drinks were flowing, the people were good, the karaoke was... not. I'm told that at one point the birthday boy and I performed "Poison." There are many things I should never attempt, and rapping in public is one of them. However, I am a good singer and do remember doing a pretty fierce cover of "Oops, I Did It Again."
If an English teacher was discussing this, now would be when she would write "Foreshadowing" on the chalkboard.
I'm not too eager to get into the details of what followed, mostly because I've been trying to wrap my head around them ever since. You think you're done with someone, that even though it was really, really bad for a while there, you're cool now. You've made peace with the fact that you're supposed to Just Be Friends and are even genuinely not minding seeing him happy with other people because hey, friends are happy when their friends are happy. You've moved on. You've had other relationships. You've figured out what you wanted from love and life, and been through the wringer enough to understand that getting it doesn't always come easy.
In short, you have your shit together.
And then a drunken text message turns into yelling in an alley in Adams Morgan, which ends in a hang-up line so biting that nearby strangers applaud you. And then somehow it turns into IMing, which turns into the phone again, which turns into coming over, which turns into a completely out-of-nowhere suggestion that no one can quite bring themselves to really ask in the form of a question.
But to do it again?
*Sigh.* Who even knows anymore?