i’ve been telling everyone who cares to listen that i wanted to have a quiet november, staying at home and away from alcohol (and other things), keeping to myself in the warmth of a cozy room – but that hasn’t been quite working out for me.
i still find myself in pubs and houses, loud music playing over speakers, out at bars until 3am, dancing with people i don’t remember, and then, after, returning to a table at a 24-hour a&w with four hamburgers instead of the poutines all my friends apparently told me to buy.
there is still that familiar haze – the mornings and afternoons spent recovering, barely feeling human – ordering doordash because it seems easier than dragging myself out of bed to fumble over a kitchen stove – inhaling a bowl of ramen before going back to bed for another couple of hours, and then finally truly waking up, right when the sun is about to set and introduce yet another night.
but last night, instead of going out (with offers from 3 separate groups of friends), i stayed in and finished reading a sweet, mushy book that left me feeling all at once so empty but so full. it objectively wasn’t even that well-written of a book – super corny and overly simplistic and idealistic – but the great beating heart of it made me smile, and i strangely found myself missing it as soon as i was finished.
there’s something to be said about sweetly unhinged optimism – it’s the same thing that i love about gooey romantic comedies, even though they’re super predictable and generally have little to no real stakes at all.
sometimes i don’t need the drama or conflict or pain. sometimes i just want to escape to a world full of open, unabashed love, where things work out for good people and everything can be tied up with a neat little saccharine bow.
i finished the book and was full of something that maybe resembled hope, or promise – some yearning for a future in which i might also find some full, impossible love.
usually i’m pretty okay and content on my own, but last night i was restless, and by midnight i was tempted to go out and meet my friends, even though i was completely sober – at least, if anything, to explore the possibilities of another reckless night.
i’m probably not going to find love drunk again in a dark, loud room, but who knows right?
i stayed in though and i don’t regret it. if i’m going to stumble into my love story, i kind of want it to be brighter than that. and anyway, there’s always next weekend, and the one after that.