Dru misunderstood something I said over gchat today and took it as an opportunity to remind me what a disaster he thinks we'd be as a couple. I exhibit masochistic tendencies, so I asked Dru why that was exactly. He provided a pitch perfect analysis of our inevitable breakup, grounded in a complex understanding of our personalities. But mostly it amounted to, Nicole has unrealistic expectations about relationships. Under the circumstances, I took it really rather well. And then this text chain began.

Dru: You hate me so much right now.

Me: Absolutely not even a little not even at all.

Me: But if we're both single at 39 we can cohabitate, right? Different rooms and weekly sleepovers?

Dru: No. By then I'll have taken up my banjo playing and will leave with my three cats named Pain, Suffering and Sir Ben Kingsley.

Me: Dammit.

Me: 38?

Dru: That's when I rescue Sir Ben Kingsley from the shelter.

Me: 37?

Du: I'll he having an affair with the actual Sir Ben Kinglsey. Thus why I name my cat as such.

Me: Then what are you doing Thursday?

Dru: Avoiding you at all possible costs.

Things that are true:

I need a new travel toothbrush. I absolutely, willfully left my apartment without brushing my teeth this morning. I did make it to a production meeting on time though (and found gum) so the sacrifice wasn't a complete failure.

I love coupons.

I filled out one of those ... bracket things ... but never submitted it to our General Management Assistant for eligibility in the office pool. And all but one of my randomly chosen brackets have been correct.

I dropped a tiny cookie on the floor next to my desk and now I can't find it.

No one in New York is selling chocolate chip muffins anymore.

I've never watched Felicity, but I'm pretty sure I'd like it and think I will be adding it to my queue. I have a special affection for those "single woman in the city" shows. It might be the voice-overs. Yes. I identify with women and their voice-overs.

For example, last night I was walking up to Union Square to meet Dom and thinking, I wonder if there's a word to describe the feeling you have when you remember a memory that should make you happy but then it makes you sad because it's a memory and not a present-tense experience. And then I thought, I bet the French have a word for it. And then I thought, wow - my life is just like a TV show sometimes.

And then I hated myself. But just a little.

I should have more self-respect than running to the downstairs deli in my pajamas.

I should not be this happy about a night spent in bed watching mid-90s romantic comedies and eating nutella.

I should do some dishes.

I should have waited for my tea to cool before drinking it.

I should blog a little bit less.

Shoulda woulda coulda. Oh, Saturn's day.

Dear Mom,
Do you have our DVD of When Harry Met Sally? If I can't crawl into bed and watch it on weekend nights, I am going to start making decisions you won't agree with. Love, Nicole
PS - I can only watch Moonstruck so many times

Dear my idea to leave the apartment at 11:30pm last night and meet Dru at a bar on the Upper West Side,
I thought I was really going to regret you in the morning, but it seemed to work out. When you get a chance, please let My Decision to Get a Slice of Buffalo Chicken Pizza at Freddie's at 1am know that it was spicy but ultimately good. Thanks, Nicole

Dear The Shower,
Sorry I did not see you this morning. Running late. Maybe later? xoxo, n

Dear Book I am Reading,
We need to end this. I am less than halfway through and you are dragging me down, man. We can get lunch and talk about this if you want. Nicole

Dear everyone,
Do you own a DVD copy of the Truth About Cats and Dogs? I need it for a class tomorrow. Seriously.
Thanks, N

God dammit.

I grabbed my sneakers and threw them in my bag while it was dark this morning. (I refuse to do improv in anything but sneakers.) Turns out, I grabbed a shoe from two different sets. Somehow, thankfully, I also grabbed two different feet.

Thankfully? Ugh. Maybe. For the second time this week I accidentally look like Punky Brewster.

Whenever I get into a Dire Laundry Situation (DLS), I fantasize about taking extreme measures like reaching into my closet and wearing a dress or a skirt. For no formal reason.

Last night it looked like I was approaching a DLS so I had mentally prepared myself to do something I'd been fantasizing about for awhile: wear a skirt with a band t-shirt and a cardigan. You know, like a girl in a movie. An independently filmed movie.

Unexpectedly, I got up early enough to deal with the DLS before leaving our apartment. And yet...life is for the living. I did it anyway.

I'm wearing a skirt, guys. And leggings. And I can't remember if that last part is okay or not.

The thing is, I only own one skirt and it's purple, which is hard to match. So the t-shirt and skirt don't match. Also, the thing that happens whenever I move to the left of "T Shirt and Jeans" is that it looks less like I've dressed fancy and more like I'm in costume.

So. I look like I'm in costume but I can't decide what costume that is...maybe it's one of those concept costumes. Yes. There's a very real possibility that I'm dressed up as My Own Inability to Execute Ideas.

Also, sneakers were a bad call.

It's still funny, even if you have to explain it:

Dru: ooohhhhhhhhh
Dru: i get it
Dru: the doctor is seeing your underwear
Me: thank you

There is a reason I blog about her so much.

I tried this bit twice before it landed:

Sent at 3:12 PM on Friday
me: buying underwear is far more stressful when you know someone else is actually going to see it
me: which reminds me - I have a drs appointment Monday afternoon
me: switcheroo!
me: wah wah
me: dressing up for the doctor
me: Caroline in the City'd!

Nicole: you kill me
Nicole: seriously

She also forgot I offered her one of my last two leftover rangoons so I got to eat it after she left.

Nicole: you confuse me so
me: really? why?
Nicole: cause your entry led me to [assume love] and then there was crab
Nicole: confused
me: why?
me: it's the old one-two
me: you think it's about one thing
me: but it's about rangoon
me: COMEDY
Nicole: i never did the classes

This blog entry might lean towards the too personal but oh well.

Since I moved to New York 2.83 years ago, I've been looking for something kind of casually. There were times when I was out there looking more seriously - and more desperately - than others. Ultimately, I found myself in a place where I had relaxed. Or given up hope. I guess it's all a question of perspective.

Then, in the last few weeks, It kind of walked into my life. I'm still not sure how It fits into the daily routine I had already established. And I have trouble understanding moderation - since every time something makes me happy I want to wrap myself in a blanket of It and pursue in unmeasured, uncontrolled doses. And that isn't always the right decision.

Sorry. I'm being vague. The thing is, I finally found a place in New York that does crab rangoon they way they used to at Lemon Thai. And it's amazing. And I've had it twice in the last week and a half. And I'm at my desk right now, doing everything in my power not to finish the entire bag in one sitting - that's six pieces of fried, golden, crispy, creamy, crabby goodness.

My desk/post-it notes are also covered in drippings from a variety of sauces and dressings. Oh chopsticks. I love you, but I don't know how to make this work.

Dru and I went for drinks last night and he mentioned this article. I know that sounds incredibly, incredibly obnoxious. I wouldn’t call myself smart, but “overthinker” isn’t much of a stretch.

Mostly I’m sharing because of this quote:

“At some point in your life, you got pegged as a smart person. From then on, that was your principal identity: The Smart One. Especially if you had a sibling who was better-looking than you, in which case she (or he) was The Pretty One.”

It reminds me of the time when my grandmother’s best friend was introducing someone to me and my sisters. She said: "This is Amanda. This is Nicole. And this is the one I call “The Beauty.”"

Oh, by the way, we were at my grandmother’s wake.

There's a note on my desk that just says "Call guy."

Specificity for the win.

All work in our office has come to a complete standstill because my lady co-workers and I are listening to "I Can't Make You Love Me." Oh, shuffle.

Nikki: It's one of those songs where it comes on and you just think...she knows. [Bonnie Raitt] knows.

Nikki missed work yesterday because of the snow.

Nicole: interesting, thank you for the update, i should really subscribe to the newsletter
me: yes. OR JUST NEVER LEAVE ME EVER.
Nicole: hahahahaha. ok, that too
me: okay. I might regret this...but do you want to get a cheeseburger later? it's all I thought about yesterday and is part of why I was so sad.
Nicole: that is so wierd, i was just typing a message saying I was going to want lunch. yes, i want a cheeseburger
me: I'm trying not to cry right now
Nicole: do they have non-sweet fry options?
HA
me: yes. we can have regular fries. because caring about someone means compromise.
Nicole: look, you're already learning! I was going to make a comment about our future cheeseburger experiences but i'll control myself
me: wait. what future cheeseburger experiences? talk to me about the future, Nikki. promise me things.
Nicole: nope, this will only work if we keep it in the moment
me: you're right. god, I hate that you're right.