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So last night.

I suppose I could write a huge entry all about last night -- about Steph and Kramer and all the bad decisions we three made yesterday morning and the night before, about dinner with lurpy, or the pre-party with lurpy and anjeelou.

Instead, I'll write about the end. About how I started crying after _ikeware left ... and I called him and explained why. First, over H.W.S.R.N., because he didn't show (and I knew he wouldn't, but when he emailed me on Friday for directions, I let myself hope) -- and actually, because BFunk didn't show either. Second, over Hipster -- over the fight we'd had the night before (one of the many aforementioned bad decisions), over the fact that he gave me a birthday present but wouldn't look me in the eye, respond, or even stop walking when I tried to thank him for it, but mainly because he brought a date to the party and was making out with her in the living room (after dumping me with the old "I'm not in the space where I can be involved with anyone right now" line -- and I was dumb enough to believe him).

But mainly, I was crying over _ikeware. I was crying because when he came to the party and saw what was up with Hipster, he instantly dove into a role he used to play for me sometimes at raves: Fake Boyfriend. He held my hand and kept his arm around my back and just generally made it look like "Hey Hipster -- she's got someone new too!" And I didn't ask him to do it or even say a word -- he just stepped up. So mainly, I was crying because it felt so amazing to know that I had a friend who would do that -- just step up to the plate and defend me, stick up for me like that.

Comments

hopita
Nov. 14th, 2004 04:45 pm (UTC)
Steph noticed I was crying and hustled me into the bathroom, wanting to make sure that Hipster didn't see -- "don't give him the satisfaction!" At some later point I was in the same bathroom with Eyeballs and Go-Go Boots, with Go-Go Boots telling me that Hipster was ugly and asking if she could please go kick his ass. I was just drunk enough to not be able to remember if she went and did it or not.

Spent the better part of the morning vomiting (including in lurpy's new car -- I tried to make it out the window but forgot that I had a seatbelt on. Oops). Talked to _ikeware on the phone this evening and found out that he spent his morning in a similar fashion (only he was at work -- ugh).

As for post-partum depression, I think if I'd known that was the play you were going to see, I would have advised against it, even without knowing that the mother in the play drowned her baby. I remember going to see "Rent" right after Bob died. Weep-fest, indeed.

So are you getting help? Therapy? Medication? Friends? What does the good Dr. Spock have to say?

P.S.
Alexander is the king of gorgeousness. My ovaries are still freaking out.
ratphooey
Nov. 14th, 2004 05:05 pm (UTC)
Jules and I talked about it before the play started, and decided that if it was too much for either one of us, we'd just leave.

Had the tickets been cheaper, I think we'd have bagged it altogether, but I am too practical for that.

The first half was good, actually - being reminded that massive overwhelm is a common response to new mommyhood. It was only when she started to slip into serious psychosis that it got hairy, though as I said, it was reassuring that things never got that bad for me.

I am really upset that the blurb didn't give any indication of how heavy duty the play became. It was like promising Ron Howard's movie Parenthood and getting Medea.

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