Let me reiterate…I would rather work in an office. I would rather work in an office than have a boyfriend. In fact, it’s almost the same thing. Giving up one’s freedom…just to be like everyone else.
Accepting second best. I can’t do that again.
I have no intention of EVER having a boyfriend/partner/husband.
They say, “You’ll fall in love.” “You’ll meet someone.” “There’s someone out there for you.” Ha! It simply isn’t true. Why? Because I am not looking, not interested…scared.
My ankle is not getting any better. My ‘wait and see’ policy worked on the left leg but not on the right. I am shuffling like a decrepit. Doctor on Monday. We shall see.
Zachary came by yesterday and we hurled ourselves up the 101 and into Hollywood. Hanging with some New York friends on Doheny. A gay event…cute, pleasant people. One of them had seen the ‘A’ List and asked…about the watch.
We ended the evening slumping into sofas at a private roof top club receiving all comers. We had a pack of American Spirits so were very popular out there on the terrace.
Zachary is a dancer/performance artist. He is off to Rome to show his work in a prestigious gallery. I like his zeal. It reminded me just how much fun touring a live show can be.
Samantha joined us, she was wearing knee-high leather boots, her hair tied back…she looked like Theda Bara.
We chatted with super chic Kelly Osborne. We met a gay couple in an open relationship.
We drove home at midnight past a very fresh accident on the deserted PCH. An inebriated man sitting at the edge of the road wearing a white button down…clutching his bloody chest. His girlfriend standing by…weeping.
Gawkers looking into the black sea. The deputies, I read this morning, were not drowned. Look here.
I am in NYC next week, post Irene. Robby is there to see but he has a life in NYC (at our instigation) and I may very well not be a part of that. That’s OK, he’s appropriately grateful.