Dinner Party

So another one of B's fabulous parties and I'm back to normal. I drank too much champagne and consumed all the junk I could. It was amazing.

And absolutely exhausted.

"I can't very well marry a dentist from New Jersey!" - Jackie O.

Giving Up

I am the fattest, ugliest, most worthless thing alive and I want to give up on everything. I want to give up.

Billionaire Boys Club

So Joe came through on his promise and I was fabulous and loud. But I got a few laughs and the crowd's attention so all was well?

Had a blast, was just like old times. Started the evening down by Delancey with B and co. We had dinner at an Australian eatery where I chatted up B and E, bonding over the latest in dating disasters. Then me and E took the F up to 34th, where Joe and I had some drinks with Sean. Sean turned out to be the better pick than Martin, unfortunately, but I talked to both. Then up to Cain with T and all the work friends. Then back out to another bar with the boys where I had a great time reconnecting with my high school friends, who came along for the ride.

It's weird now that I get on so well with these people after years of hating them. Everyone agreed that I was the best looking girl at the bar and I acted accordingly, being loud and overly affectionate. I probably made a complete ass of myself but I looked so good no one cared. (Hopefully?) I was wearing my New Year's dress and my new shoes. There was a man to take care of my every whim, but I didn't drink on their tab. I mad everyone laugh with references to Catherine the Great and then held their attention through my stand-by, analyzing their outfits. Whatever. It worked long enough to hold their attention, which was the point. Five years ago, I would have peed my pants if one of these guys talked to me; it felt good to switch places.

I came in at five by way of car service. Thanks to my Red Bulls and vodkas I'm still going strong. Think I'll go to the gym?

New

So things are getting interesting in 2009 as the social scene becomes hotter. S offered to have me move down to her building and Beth is coming to yoga next week.

S and D came over tonight and we had dinner.

I got so angry today that I decided it was enough. I vacuumed up everything. the dead rose petals, the photos, I want it all to disappear. I want to erase that girl I now hate, that stupid girl who was with that worthless white trash. I hit a point in my day today, where, when I came across a picture we had taken last year in my desk, it occurred to me that I didn't care what happened to him anymore. I threw the picture in the garbage and didn't look back. I want him gone now and for good. I want more than anything, my life back, the life I had before I got mixed up in that mess.

And the beauty is, I can.

Sometimes I think we resist change for reasons of fear. Fear of what happens next, fear of possibility, fear of something better. The truth of the matter is, change is imminent, and avoiding it is immobility; a price too high to pay for what isn't gained or lost. I'm seeing the beauty of possibility now, I'm seeing future. Everything beautiful happened after he got lost. The woman I want to be isn't with him. I wish I had seen this, I wish I had known, I wish I had never even started anything with him. I wish I could go back and erase every second I gave him, I wish I could have realized how much better I deserve. I wish I left that night I tried to go, when he held me back. I wish I knew I wasn't afraid.

I threw out the photo, I buried that girl, so desperate to be adored that she settled for so much less than she was worth. No one cried at her funeral. She had to die; and take his memory with her, that monster that robbed her of everything he could take. They went away today, never to be seen again.

And for the first time in months, I felt movement.

Selling It

So took Joe's advice and will go back to refusing to settle for anything under 500K. Went to a ridiculously overpriced designer hair salon and let Reese and Perry work their magic on me. I suppose it worked, too, A said this afternoon while we were in Lord and Taylor, "Everyone is staring at you!" and fortunately, this wasn't because I was making a scene. (for once)

Am feeling optimistic as of late. I read in Vogue that after someone leaves you become a mess and the strongest woman in the world at once. Joe is to show me off this weekend so I mean to head to the gym and become properly starved by then. Also Tam's party so I'll have an excuse to leave if all doesn't go as planned. Joe is elitist, obnoxious, completely inflated in his sense of his own self-worth but totally and unabashedly honest and I couldn't ask for anything else in a man. It's interesting to have this sort of platonic relationship with one's exes in such a way that you completely understand what is expected of each other. My job is to dress up in something smashing and provide the conversation. To sit and listen to whatever obsolete rubbish these assanine men are coming out with no matter how stupid and conceited it is and manage a smile and let them kiss my hand at the end, saying "How lovely to have met you." His job is to pay for the drinks.

... Isn't a riot?! I had forgotten how much fun this actually could be. And, if nothing else, I at least get to wear my new dresses. (The navy blue one will go with my new hair color by Reese.)

A and me drove through the light snow that fell this evening. It was absolutely beautiful. It felt good to get out the house, lately I've wanted to curl up at the bottom of my bed and remain there but I had fun tonight, just like old times. I adore A, really, I do. Crims is properly up to her ears in work these days so sightings have become scant.

I went to Met after my haircut yesterday and saw a painting I loved so much that I bought the poster. I meant to have it framed but just taped it to the wall. It's all I can do to surround myself with beautiful things when things can seem so ugly. But change is inevitable, you can't expect to stay in one situation forever. Everything is mutable, and all you can control is your own doings. I stayed up past 3 last night watching "Gia." I cried at every scene, really feeling it. What do you do with a [man] who doesn't love you? It travels throughout her career, her sad family life, the lengths she went through to escape it all; feeling completely and utterly deserted and alone and worthless while being surrounded by everyone. I didn't watch it until the end, I never do. But I got it.

I'm feeling free more than anything else, no more oppressive weight on my back. When I think about it, now with a clearer head, I realize how much I really missed being treated right. I miss being wined and dined, going out with men who speak more than one language and have read something other than Sports Illustrated. Men who are good in bed. Men who have slightly more finesse than advertise their bodily functions and discuss their porn habit. And I've also hit the most freeing realization of all: I will never again have to drink a Bud Light.

The world is open and change is coming. God bless it, everywhere.

Fashion and Finance...

Tonight I remembered who I was.

High School

Drinks with Joe tomorrow...

Thank You

"Well, what do you suggest I do about it then? I mean it isn't like I can just fix everything."

"Do you want to?"

*Silence*

"You can't park a Mercedes in a spot held by an old beat up Volvo. Sell it off or have it towed."

And it's such a simple answer...

San Francisco

After I asked, you didn't come back. You never came back for me. That Sunday in the park, you left and didn't come back. You didn't call. You drove away and didn't say why or when. You drove off being smug. I wanted to rip the smirk of your disgusting laughing face.

I think that was the point that drove me mad. You never came back. Again, you lied and let me down. Why do you lie only about important things, always thinking this lie will be easier than the truth; not understanding that knowing something so important to me was lies will only hurt more? How can you be so ignorant? How many times do I have to say?

And worse still, I watched everyone else have someone come back for them. You left me to stand on my own; constant reminder of my own worthlessness. You didn't think about what you and your pathetic lies would cost.

You didn't think of me twenty minutes after you left to drink with your friends.

I want to forgive, I do. I want to fix this, start anew, move forward, but you have to understand how hard it is for me with that fact: YOU NEVER CAME BACK. I keep tripping over it in my efforts to be "friends." I keep seeing it when I try to forget. It stays with me every second; eating away at all the good that once was, tainting everything until it is the only thing I see. I want to fix this but don't know how. I cannot take back all the things I said and did, you can't erase the fact that you didn't come back.

When I leave for San Francisco, I don't think I'll see you. Maybe we're too far gone to forgive and it is easier this way, a new life for me devoid of anything you ever touched. I can be someone entirely different; focus on my new school and job. Don;t call or try to find me. Don't try. You never came back now you'll stay gone, I made sure of that when I wrote my email. I wanted to burn the bridge so you'd never again waste my time with your senseless shameless lying. Forever, you'll go away and I'll be too far to contact. New things and new faces in a city far from New York, far from all of this.

I've become obsessed with revenge. I want you to hurt, hurt like you hurt me. I want to squeeze out all your lies, even the score so you'll know how it felt and I feel satisfied enough to move on. But that isn't feasible.

You threw me away. Nothing will ever hurt as much as that. Not even San Francisco.

For James

I'm writing this here for the thought that maybe you do still read this.

You are never going to fully understand how much you really hurt me. You are never going to know me. And I couldn't expect you too, either. Our lives are so different; you've got a family and friends and I am who I am, the daughter of people who didn't want one and tried to cover that guilt up with so much money that they didn't have to see me. You have no idea what it is like to live a life where you're perfectly aware, from a young age, that you were not wanted. That no one genuinely loves you. That you are around for appearences, another dress that a narcissistic mother would not wear, another expense for an overworked father. This is who I am, they lied just like you did. Sent me away to schools that would take up so much time that they'd never be bothered with me; to a country far enough away that I couldn't call. I don't know what its like to matter. I don't understand what it is to be part of something. All I know, I display. I'm named after dead queens remembered for their rule alone. I'm named after women who lived and died entirely and completely alone.

And what hurts most is that you don't see me. You're like the rest of them, you only see what I put out. You see the queen, not the woman. You see pretty clothes, blonde hair, big jewelry and a good job. You see what I put out, my mother's face, my father's wit, my candor. See me, James, see me. See what a horrible thing it is to be beautiful and forever deemed worthless. See me, the 9 year old that was afraid to go home from school because mommy was so mad, see me, the 14 year old who's first love and best friend is dead and gone at 17, see me, this disaster I've become behind all the glitter. See me.

All I've ever wanted was to be loved. I don't know what that's like. I know what it's like to be admired, I know what it's like to be ornamental. I used to tell you not to tell me that I'm beautiful, but you never understood that's its because I know I am and how little that is worth. I know where I stand with the men I date, what I'm worth to them. I know what I'm worth to my family, I know as long as I please everyone and wear something pretty I'll be fine. I don't want this life anymore than you'd want it. It's all I understand and I hate being a product of something empty. I hate being empty. I want to get out more than you'll ever know. You once told me I'd be very rich. I never told you I tried not to cry when you did. That's all I am. That's all I have. Everything, and nothing in one.

You didn't understand how important it was to have someone to talk to. How important it was to me to feel as if someone wanted to listen, someone cared what I thought and said. You took the phone away first, and disappeared. I wanted to know what it was like to matter, to count to someone, I wanted to know what reality felt like. I wanted to be loved. I wanted to be part of something, someone, I wanted to make a difference to someone. I wanted to be real. I wanted to be touched behind the glitter. I wanted to mean something. If you knew from the get-go that you were not this man then you shouldn't have tried to make me think you were. You didn't see me at all.

And now I'm back where I began. I'm dressed right now and have my makeup done, ready for another act, another expensive drink at a bar with a man who is just as empty as I am. I play a part. This is who I am. The queen. A crown of jewels so bright it blinds out the obvious loneliness of being at the top. You're just another courtier, you weren't the prince at all. You're scared of me, too. You don't want to know me, you wanted me to look good for you and not complain. That's all anyone wants from me. And once that gets old, I go away. Isn't that simple? You get to tell your friends I gave you the time of day and I get to deal with being abandoned and put back into a life I do not want but don't think I can break away from. And what will happen when I'm no longer beautiful? Maybe I'll be married and still alone like the women I see everyday, the mothers of children that don't see daddy because he is so "busy." Maybe I'll be alone, Director of This or CEO of That, going home every night to nothing but an empty palace. And either way, people will look at me, and say how lucky I am. They see the queen.

I like to think Catherine the Great and Elizabeth the I had exboyfriends like you. I like to think that there is life beyond this moment, beyond this endless saga that has become this awful experience. I like to think they were like me, good at forgetting what they didn't want to remember. I like to think we could have been friends, then we aren't really alone at all, just misplaced. I'd go to England or to Russia and tell them I understood. That I know what it's like to be somewhere you were born into and can't get out of. That I know what it is like to have everything and nothing at the same time. That I see them; the women who's "greatness" inspired my name, women who's loneliness became outshone by their accomplishments; who's sadness had no name. I look at their portraits now and see sad women. And even if no one else understood for years, I do. I see them. They matter to me even if no one else ever cared, and if I could, I'd have given them all the attention in the world. I'd listen because no one listens to me, either. If I could, I'd hug the 9 year old I was who no one ever held, I'd go to the funeral with the 14 year old I had to be. I'd understand that she wasn't nearly as strong as everyone thought she was. That she was a little girl like the others; only with so much expectation of more. If I could, I'd save her from becoming me. I tell that child she was not worthless, she mattered. I tell her she deserved to be loved and cherished just like any other little girl. I'd tell her her family didn't deserve her, and that her friend didn't die in vain. I'd hold her for hours. I'd tell her it was ok to be vulnerable and human, I'd tell her it was ok that she wasn't perfect. I'd tell her it wasn't her fault she wasn't what her parents wanted, that they don't matter. I'd tell her she didn't have to die with that friend. I'd make her believe she counted. I'd let her know she is not worthless.

But I can't do that. Just like you couldn't love the woman she became.

You didn't see me. All I've ever wanted you couldn't give. And you've no idea what this meant to me, and may never understand. Is that all?