My typical behavior after a breakup, no matter whose idea it was, is to have a good sulk and wallow (I recently realized this sounds vaguely British), which can stretch anywhere from days into weeks. This time I’m determined not to do that any more than necessary, so I’ve filled my calendar with every kind of social engagement possible. I feel like a crazed housewife with the kids home all summer. Still, at the end of the night, I’m glad I made myself leave my apartment.
This weekend’s plans include faux Elton John at the Holiday Inn Select, a minor road trip, and getting really drunk with my friend Josh. I’m sure it will all be great fun, and I hope it keeps me too busy to dwell upon what it is that I really want to be doing: lying on a blanket somewhere, watching the Perseids meteor shower with someone I’m trying very hard not to think about.