Deadlines are hard stops. And when that deadline means you won’t have a place to live, it’s non-negotiable. That’s why bringing bullshit across my proverbial desk will automatically put you on my shit list. What do I mean by this?
I went back to the city last night to go to a party with some friends. I’m treating every moment with these important people like it’s my last (it may be for some). I made some late night plans with a certain person of certain questionable intentions and found myself stood up. After hours of texts saying, I’m on my way, I finally called it a night and went home alone. This morning I sent a text asking this male friend to kindly delete my number and stop wasting my precious time. An hour later he says, “I’m so sorry! I was coming and ended up in Brooklyn on a friend’s couch.” Now, I’m no Mensa candidate, but I’m pretty sure when you tell a taxi driver to take you to the Upper East Side of Manhattan, they don’t say, NOPE, I think I’ll drop you in Brooklyn instead.”
I’ll never talk to him again. And a fool I am to even consider ditching my wonderful, supportive friends for that (although sweet) piece. Lesson learned. I have 18 days left before my lease ends, and I will be wiser going forward.
In better life-changing news, I continue my 7-year long affair with my own version of Mr. Big. An older man with whom I have developed a professional and platonic relationship (I swear), who always makes me smile and laugh and helped me end my weekend on a very high note. It also doesn’t hurt that mounds and mounds of chocolate cake were involved.
So, as Tina Fey and Amy Poehler close out the Golden Globes, and I get ready for an exciting Monday full of new opportunities, I’m grateful for the time I have made for the special people in my life. And closed the door on the not so special, cuz ain’t nobody got time for that.