Italian Food

Went out on Saturday night with E. My parents watched the kids overnight for the first time in over 2 years. We ate at an overpriced Italian place that turned out to be quite average, although the d茅cor was nice.

Conversation with E went from trivial to serious very quickly, as we had been building up to this point for months. We talked about ���our relationship��� and how we basically don���t have one right now, with periodic interruptions by the waiter bringing us food and drink and saying, ���Take your time, sugar��� in a faux-homo accent while E was ordering. Which was odd because the guy was obviously not gay. I blame the rise of the metro-sexual for this.

Anyway, I had never had one of those types of conversations in a restaurant before. It added to the sense of dread. People around us were laughing and eating and we were like a black hole. From our expressions, you could tell there was trouble at our table from across the room. Blame was placed and then deflected in an emotional volley worthy of Wimbeldon, all conducted in that intense, hissing whisper of two people trying not to lose it in a public place.

We were going to see a movie after dinner, but it was past 10 and really, that was the only reason we didn���t go. It was odd how nonplussed both of us felt after our discussion. We talked casually about the dinner and drove home.

We had some E (the drug), which we do a few times a year. Normally, it is incredibly relieving, like an emotional vacation, and we typically spend these nights in trippy bliss, with occasional bursts of mind-blowing sex. This time, it was different. The E was bunk, for one thing, and our mood was not conducive to whacked out sex anyway. We spent about 10 minutes forcing ourselves to get high, then realized we had one left from the previous batch. We split it and got a nice roll and had a nice time, but she said afterwards that she didn���t want to do it (the E) anymore as it had lost its magic. I struggled to repress the double meaning of that statement.

Woke up the next morning at 11. I am not exaggerating when I say that neither of us had slept past 7:30 in 2 years.

So at least that was nice.