Channeling my inner Dionne Warwick last week was an excellent idea. I must have known the day after Reindeer would be emotionally tough. Which is why I’m sitting in my living room with Jack and Jane doing a Christmas exchange. (Sidebar: I love presents, who cares if I’m Hindu, we’re all American capitalists!)
“Open it!” Jane squeals. I rip open the paper and my jaw draws as a joke from my Reindeer life appears. “Oh. My. God! Bodum glasses?” I ask. I had read in New York Magazine that these temperature engineered glasses keep hot drinks hot and cold drinks cold, without burning or freezing your fingers. I thought they were amazing. However, at $9 a glass, Reindeer did not. Now I have the glasses and no Reindeer. Another reminder that part of closure involves admitting my date to my friends. So I can hear myself SAY it is over. “Do you like them?” Jane asks. “I do,” I reply and give them each a hug.
“Time for Sushi Yu II!” Jack says. Jane and I pop off the floor and we all pull on our parkas for the short walk to what HAS TO BE one of the best tasting and priced sushi restaurants in Manhattan.
We sit down and order the Brooklyn Bridge, which literally is a three foot long by 1 foot wide bridge filled with sushi, sashimi and rolls. While we eat Jack and Jane chat about their new Upper West Side neighborhood. Jane loves it, but Jack misses the suburban feel of being Up-Up-Uptown. Neither one of them misses the weekend A train commutes that regularly include construction delays.
Jack pops salmon into his mouth, Jane debates which roll to eat and I announce, “I had dinner with Reindeer last night.” Well that fairly impressive. Seven little words have frozen them in time and space. They also have paled for fair-skinned people. And I hope Jack doesn’t choke as silence wraps around us like a scratchy blanket in a slightly uncomfortable manner.
Finally Jane breaks the silence and asks, “And?” “I got my Tupperware back,” I reply victoriously. “And?” Jane asks again. “And nothing. He bought dinner and still can’t answer why we broke up.” Jack breathes again and says, “Thank God. I just relived the past two months where I called him a douche bag every chance I had.” “Okay, you’re a guy, why did he buy me dinner?" I ask Jack. “He owed you more than a phone call and he did the right thing. But I’m glad he’s gone.” We all nod and quiet settles around us again. “So now what are you going do?” Jane asks.
Excellent question. Maybe I should take the advice of what “they” say. You know, “they” --- the experts, life coaches, romance-ologists who write books that fill the self-help sections of bookstores The ones who say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.
Maybe I should do that, metaphorically of course.