Part of the aftermath
Last night, Rea and I enjoyed dinner and drinks to the accompaniment of a jazz trio that included a bass, drum, and xylophone player at Garage down on 7th and Christopher. Phil joined us an hour after we arrived. Four weeks ago, I would have been a mess when memories of "Seth"/Kevin surfaced in conversation. These days, my emotions consist more and more of gratitude at the relationship's failure but with a splash of depression from the nostalgia. It helps to consistently remind myself that Kevin/"Seth" lied to, cheated on, and stole from me.
It's been hectic enough transitioning from college into the real world (not just ANY world, but New York), but having to deal with this was almost too overwhelming when I returned to the city. Maybe someday soon I'll be able to elaborate on this bizarre story (a story that I hope could someday be written into a screenplay), but sitting here I still find it difficult to willfully recount the scenes of deception and discovery that brought what I thought was an amazing three and a half months to its painful conclusion.
It's been hectic enough transitioning from college into the real world (not just ANY world, but New York), but having to deal with this was almost too overwhelming when I returned to the city. Maybe someday soon I'll be able to elaborate on this bizarre story (a story that I hope could someday be written into a screenplay), but sitting here I still find it difficult to willfully recount the scenes of deception and discovery that brought what I thought was an amazing three and a half months to its painful conclusion.