p e r s o n a l i t y c r i s i s

oh shit, it is national unmarried single americans week! thank god those of us who are permanently unlovable get our own week of commendation. obviously it is a total sham (not unlike a lot of people’s actual relationships!) but last year i celebrated by taking myself out to a meal at wink where i ate seared foie gras on brioche with red onions and blackberry gastrique and chocolate cake and sweetbreads and a salad with ricotta salata and early girl tomatoes. fuck, it was so good, i was in one of those ‘food comas’ that retards always talk about! i made a reservation and i dressed up because i sometimes sort of believe in the concept of fine dining and was infuriated when i found everyone else in the restaurant clad in jean shorts and burnt orange longhorns t-shirts and sunglasses perched atop their heads. if my waiter hadn’t been so attentive with the wine i might have slapped the lady next to me who ordered a dr pepper with her meal. i suppose she also might have liked some ketchup for her foie, as well? as the hostess led me to my table she said, with a knowing twinkle in her eye, ‘i love it when my boyfriend goes out of town, too!’

sometimes i am glad i don’t have a boyfriend, i spent my entire weekend going out to eat by myself in new york city and i was in god damn heaven. you meet the best people when you go out by yourself! for instance on saturday i met these people who told me their friend iris looks just like me but with dark hair. haha um, so she looks like me if i didn’t bleach the shit out of mine? they all proceeded to whip out their iphones and flip through photos but i didn’t see the similarity except for our identical sharp chins and pointy noses and it just made me wish i had a cool name like ‘iris’. as the blood from my rare as fuck lamb burger dripped down my chin, the bartender shredded horseradish and told me that her boss wants to open a bar in east austin. ‘that is where i live!,’ i proclaimed, marvelling it how i can never escape this place.

wait, it gets better. for dinner i took myself to osteria morini because emily & i went there for my birthday and i haven’t been able to stop thinking about the rigatoni with shrimp and fava beans i had. i went at like six o’clock because i am a senior citizen, and i eventually struck up a conversation with the dude next to me whose name was, i am not even shitting you, AUSTIN. actually, austin austin. i spent like three hours talking to austin austin and his adorable bartender friend rich who provided me with so much to drink that it is sort of a miracle i made it home. i don’t think i’ve consumed so many different kinds of alcohol since the night i went to coyote ugly (exactly). i seriously don’t remember anything until waking up the next morning and dragging my ass to get a massive pistachio croissant at momofuku milk bar. i didn’t do anything on sunday except walk around, i just walked and walked and went to leaf through expensive heavy books at the taschen store and bought a lauren moffatt sweater that i won’t be able to wear in texas probably ever and lit a candle for my long-dead catholic grandmother at st patrick’s cathedral even though i don’t believe in god. i walked and ate tarragon gelato then read the entire mission street food cookbook at a bookstore and kept congratulating myself for wisely bringing flats instead of boots with three inch heels.

but even though i didn’t do anything i still have been recovering all week. at lunch i have been taking naps in the backseat of my car. i am so envious of my friends who can go out night after night until 2am or later and still go to work the next day, i still have an infant’s appetite for sleep. i could sleep all the fucking time, i love it so much. i love to sleep when i am depressed and i love to sleep when i’m happy. although i confess that i didn’t sleep well in new york without cola. i am used to a tiny wet nose squirming under the covers and poking me every night before i drift off. anyway this singles week has been boring as hell aside from an awesome band practice yesterday. tomorrow night i hope to go down in a booze and oyster blaze of glory after happy hour, in bed by ten with my dog firmly knitted to the small of my back.