Written Saturday Night at 9 20 pm . . .
I am wearing a ridiculously short dress, awaiting my girlfriend C, for an evening that will end . . . interestingly, I am sure.
The weekend has already been one for the record books, and it’s only 9 40 on Saturday night.
I have rather entirely reconciled with the Bon Vivant, who threw such a fucking tantrum at the Chic Hotel Bar he caused me to wreck a friendship with someone he accused me of being on a date with.
He was awful — and got lost — and got found again. Then, true to form, he was lovely this morning, kissing me during brunch at his favorite brunch restaurant, showing me where he hides out, and then later on the street in front of his building.
[He is very private with affection, so kissing me publicly always seems worthy of note.]
I am still pissed at him. I am poorly suited to date someone prone to jealousy. My life is filled with men who are more successful, more handsome, more tall, more whatever than my Bon Vivant. I do projects with men who’ve seen me naked. If you’re jealous, well, life is going to be difficult for you.
So, he needs to get the fuck over it.
But, as I have long noted in my relationship with him, he makes me raise my game and be more respectful.
Tonight, I had dinner with LP and I held him very much at arm’s length. Going into it, I was anxious because I did not want to do anything that crossed a line for BV.
Which is an interesting shift.
I forgot how nice it is to be arm candy for a man like LP. It really is. There is something so lovely about being a silk chiffon clad woman sliding into a ridiculous car driven by a handsome man. It’s that old life, which I enjoyed very much.
I mean, who wouldn’t. It was never about just being attractive. It was about being the total package — chic, attractive, smart, articulate, etc.
LP said to me tonight, I can see why you’re so good at [stupid shit my friends and I do]. You have so much personality, you just own the stage. Yep. I do.
If you’re a man who finds that intimidating, which, to be honest, is most of them, then you want to break me of all the me-ness. If you get me, then you love me, even when you don’t like me.