denim heart

denim heart

Will you be my stonewashed valentine?

Elisa and I had dinner at Pho & I Thursday night. Pho & I serves mainly Thai food except for pho. I didn’t indulge, opting instead for some fairily mild basil fried rice with chicken. Elisa’s pho looked really good, though, so I’ll have to remember that the next time I go.

I talked about my trip to Paris while she dished a bit of dirt. Mmm, gossip, how I love you so. But I’m trying not to gossip so much, not because I’m trying to fulfill a New Year’s resolution but because it gives me too much pleasure and therefore I know it must be bad for me. Seriously, though, I love good dirt.

On a more serious note, Elisa was telling me that I need to start dating in earnest. That my problem isn’t my looks so much as my lack of confidence. Build it (read: confidence) and they (read: boys) will come, is the message I got. I hope that’s right. I hope Elisa is right. I suppose that, to that end, I should be more outgoing, like literally I should be out right now and hanging with my fellow “singles” (gah, is there anything worse than the word “singles” when applied to single people?), drinking cosmopolitans and behaving myself. Instead, I’m full of Mexican food, lying in bed and watching that masterpiece of family and faith, The Night of the Hunter.

In happier news, I got a few days off to spend with Patrick when he comes to visit next week. I got an insane deal ($40/night!) at the Four Points Sheraton Chicago through Priceline, so we’re staying there instead of me having to clean my apartment. Which, frankly, needs it. It’s like living in an episode of “Hoarders”. Patrick reminded me that the home (read: series of cramped apartments in Queens) we grew up in was pretty bad. Which is true. But it’s one thing to be mildly depressed in one’s own dust-filled Eleanor Rigby studio of doom, it’s quite another to subject your loved ones to it. I nearly cracked up when I was trying to tell Elisa about how awful it is. I nearly wanted to just show her my apartment to prove my point. But I also feel like that was some sort of weird breakthrough. If I’m feeling especially anxious, does that mean I might actually do something about it?

I fucking hope so.

To end on a positive note — like that goofy pic above? It was taken at my neighborhood Walgreen’s. The seasonal aisle is full of Valentine’s Day candy. Heart-shaped boxes in red, pink, black, and stonewashed denim bearing cheap chocolate. Some of the boxes will even play snippets of country music when pressed in the right spot. Naturally, the box of sugar-free chocolates looked, well, sugar-free. Is it too early to ask for a valentine yet?

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