This weekend I shopped only for myself, spent 24 hours with Nicole, told my home-friends once and for all that I’m not moving back home (ever, ever, ever), drank only a handful of beers, had lunch with my ex-husband (it was fine) and mentioned you by name or code name only about fourteen times.
And now I just want to go home. To my own bed. To my own kitchen. To my own couch. Back to wondering if we’ll ever get it right.