The moment the wheels of the plane touched down at JFK, I felt the comfort of the familiar as I realized that everyone around me was speaking English. I mindlessly zoomed through immigration and got in a cab. I’m sure you know the feeling of coming back home when you’ve been away for a while—it’s weird how natural it is, sort of like nothing’s different, or you never really left. And yet, at the same time, you’re thrown off by out-of-the-blue changes, like how all of a sudden there’s an Apple store in your neighborhood, and a building that was on one block isn’t there anymore, and a high-rise has gone up in the space of four months.
I have to say, being home makes me feel really torn. I’ve been so proud of myself for coping so well in a foreign city outside my comfort zone, but God, it’s nice to just not have to think about the littlest things. Keep reading »
If you could have your ideal social life, what would that be? Parties every night of the week? Home-oriented with the option to go out? Hanging out at your best friends’ houses?
Creating the tone of your life outside work hours depends on the kind of person you are, but it’s also largely reliant on the city you live in.
It’s taken me a while to realize that cultivating a “normal social life” in Paris can’t rely on my past experiences. Even though I may have grown tired of my going-out habits in New York, I felt engaged in a certain standard culture. In Paris, however, I’ve come to see that I’ve been fighting an uphill battle to tap into what I’ve come to think of as that “standard social culture,” because, duh, the lives of young people here are vastly different. Keep reading »
Sometimes the best thing for a broken heart is to take that heart to the bar and to get it really, really drunk.
I spent most of the past week in bed. It’s not as bad as it sounds—it wasn’t like I was crying every night (or at all), but I was just in a place where I couldn’t get out of my thoughts about me and Alex. I knew it would have been healthier to try and do some wholesome socializing, but I just put my head down, devoted myself to work, and thought about what it means to let someone out of your life. I finally decided to take me and my deep thoughts out when, on Wednesday, Dani called to invite me to get cous cous in the 10th. It sounded mellow and uneventful, so I threw on my boots and a sweatshirt without a second thought.
Little did I know that “getting cous cous” meant going to a lively bar with a group of people and getting wasted … Keep reading »
I’m devastated. And so paralyzed by losing Alex that I can hardly move. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get through my day, and feel as if I’ve almost forgotten how to walk, talk, sleep, eat, or think. Things will get better, I know. But for the moment, I’m really in the thick of it, and kicking myself for knowing I’d likely find myself here in the first place.
The week was quiet after Alex left Paris last Sunday. Later that same evening, I heard from him on IM. He told me he had gotten home safe and had a great time. I tried to keep the conversation going, but he was fairly unresponsive, and remained that way in the following days. I figured he was taking time to digest, and that the best thing to do was to give him some space. But around Thursday, my heart couldn’t take the silence for much longer, and after a public breakdown I had to email him. “We obviously have a significant history,” I wrote. “And the wonderful time we had together last week left me wondering if we’re getting back into it, or if I should expect not to see you again.” Keep reading »
It all happened so quickly. And was over just as fast.
At 9 a.m. on Wednesday morning, I found myself unexpectedly waiting at the Gare du Nord, my heart beating out of my chest and my head spinning like crazy. It was only 12 hours ago that my ex-love, Alex, had come back into my life, and it took only a fistful of Euros and a three-hour train ride to close the distance—both metaphorical and physical—between us.
Strangely, it had been almost a year since Alex and I saw each other last. We’d struck up a blog romance last year and had such a profound connection that we had crossed the Atlantic a few times to see each other. Keep reading »