I realized last night that my poor friends are probably about to strangle me. They put up with months of bitching about wedding planning, and then more months of sobbing and emotional neediness after the breakup. And now they’re being subjected to every nuance, detail or bit of information I can think of regarding lunch boy that I can possibly dredge up from my memory. Why? Because I’m terrified of making another mistake. My friends are smart and intuitive and militantly loyal. They are also unstinting with their advice and so far no one has shrunk away from my new edict: brutal honesty. Last summer, I heard a lot of, “Well, I didn’t want to say anything at the time because you loved him, but I really thought he was selfish and immature.” Which was true. But it’s why I feel the urge to overshare when it comes to my love life now. If I tell them everything that could be relevant to how this thing folds or unfolds, then they will give me the necessary massive wakeup call/slap upside the head if for some reason I start to fall back into old patterns, and we can all avoid more tearful emoting.
Drama. I am tired of drama. Not Johnny Drama—for him I am waiting with bated breath (although E is my favorite)—but the kind that makes you tired of talking about your life by the end of the day. So instead I will celebrate the fact that one good friend is graduating from law school, another is graduating from business school and moving to Germany, and a couple of others are blasting their way through PhD programs in rock star fashion. You guys are amazing and I love you!!!!!