I have spent the summer being as extroverted as possible. My days are filled with work, parties, pool parties, happy hours, dinners, etc.

It has been very very very fun.

It has also been filled with drama and trauma. So far, we have all survived the emotional upheavals, an hour of unrelenting violence, and property damage I inadvertently caused to my neighbors.

Things are shifting, now. A low rumble from the small movements of tectonic plates.

I am feeling quite reflective, as I just celebrated a birthday. I have spent a week with my dearest friends, several former beaus, and a frenemy or two.

I am, overall, happy with who I am in life. I am happy, overall, with who my friends are. I am a little lonely, in that I am in a few rather complicated relationships, and I do miss having one significant other.

I am, for lack of a better term, dating BFD. We had to acknowledge that I am his best friend. I am talking to him daily and he has been taking me — and occasionally some of my girlfriends — to to ridiculously extravagant dinners for a few weeks.

He kissed me passionately after my birthday dinner, in front of our friends, and he was a perfect date.  He always is.  He is becoming more social, confessing to me and PRX over a ridiculous dinner and wine last Thursday that he is beginning to love it here. I invited him to a small dinner party where I cooked at a girlfriend’s house — and he showed up and was awesome, and yet, super-intense and commanding.

As people are getting to know him, they are starting to appreciate who I am more.  What kind of man would I date? That kind. That man.  FM teases me that he now understands why I don’t think I am particularly intense because compared to BFD, I am not.

PRX, the ex-girlfriend of PR who is now openly dating him again, has become one of my dearest friends.  We have spent a lot of quality time drinking wine, cooking dinner, and laying out by the pool.  We have laughed, cried, and packed together.  She moved to a big city 3 hours away on Sunday, the day after my big birthday party. I miss her already and we’ve emailed, texted, and turntabled together every day.

PRX is the woman I turned to when BFD turned to me in a crisis.  She has my back. I have hers.

Which makes this next part awkward . . .

We had a party for PRX two Saturdays ago.  PR was there, as they are dating, but PRX went with me, our girlfriend C and one of PRX’s best guy friends.  I do not remember why exactly, but PR was being a bit of an ass, and she just decided to go with us instead.

C, PRX and I spent the afternoon together and drank champagne and ate pizza and did our nails.  We had the best time.  Then we headed to her party and had a blast … until PR showed up.

In fact, PR showed up with his two best guy friends and the three of them stood off on their own for long enough that I became intensely uncomfortable and told C I wanted to leave.  Another equally gorgeous blonde friend had joined us, so the three of us told PRX we’d be back in 30 minutes as, I told her honestly, I was uncomfortable and thought my leaving might make it less uncomfortable for everyone else.

PR and I had walked past each other several times without him acknowledging my existence, which just reinforced that I needed to go. Plus, I was aware we had not spoken since he knew PRX and I had become friends.

On our way out with C and our friend in tow, PR and his friends stopped me to say hello.  I hugged each of them, as I am close to PR, Jr., his best friend, and I’ve hung out with the other friend a few times.  PR embraced me tightly, kissed me on the cheek, and asked where I was going. I told him we were leaving briefly but would be back.

We hit a few other places over the course of 30 minutes before wandering back to PRX’s party.  When I arrived back, things had calmed down. I had texted PRX immediately as I left to say things with PR were fine and he was going to be more social.  He was.

Toward the end of my time at the party, FM spilled much of a sticky sweet cocktail down the back of my dress.  I was talking to PR at the time and he ran his hand slowly down my back to confirm exactly where the drink was traveling. He stopped just above my ass. He was looking me in the eye the entire time, both of us aware of what he was doing, and aware it was not an innocent gesture between two friends.  Shortly thereafter, we somehow had our arms encircling the other’s waist as we were talking to PRX. It made it seem less creepy. I suppose I was going to hug him or something. But it was very open among all of our mutual friends, all of whom know that PR and I used to date and that PR and PRX were reconciled.

It left me feeling a little strange about everything. The openness of it all but the very conscious action behind it, I know him. I know his moves. I know his firmness and overtness.  In fact, I like that about him.

The fact is, I do like him and he does like me.  That’s never changed. We’ve both been dating other people — including our important exes — but we’ve always been very clear about the fact that we like each other.

I knew when I became her friend, I was giving up ever reconciling with PR, which had always felt inevitable, as we’d continued to see each other socially and he’d always been exceptionally attentive each time.

When he became aware that PRX and I were becoming close, we stopped being friends. It was rather abrupt and I was a little hurt. If nothing else, we’d gone to great lengths and — frankly — I’d endured some minor humilation, to maintain our friendship after we split when he was dating someone who publicized their relationship and directly attacked me.

So, this reconciliation of our friendship has been nice. As I was leaving, again we chatted, we embraced, he kissed me on the cheek, and then when he appeared on our local news (and did great) a few days later, I texted him congratulations and he responded.