Monday, October 24, 2011

Heartbreak Beat

Sometimes the best way to be a good friend is to share some emotional eating.

When I messaged a friend about getting together tonight, my question about what he was doing was answered with, "Being pissed at my ex."

Although it's been coming for a while, he broke up with her yesterday, so understandably he's still processing.

But, as I told him, sitting around being pissed at her was not a worthwhile way to spend his evening and he agreed.

No, far better to go eat dollar tacos at Little Mexico and rant to me than sit at home and stew. And that's exactly what we did.

The arriving crowds were non-stop, the service incredibly fast and his chicken and my beef tacos perfectly serviceable.

But even with non-stop relationship talk while we ate, we were in and out in record time.

I suggested continuing the unloading with a gooey dessert so we went to Bev's.

A couple of indecisive girls let us go ahead of them and I took no time ordering a classic hot fudge sundae (no topping but double hot fudge).

My friend chose to taste the new basil ice cream while I sat down.

Meanwhile the girls decided and ordered. When the first of their ice creams was set down on the counter, my friend went to take a bite of it.

"Hey, that's my ice cream!" one of the girls said to him.

"That's hers!" I yelled from my seat, trying to stop him.

In another world, he took a bite without ever hearing either of us.


That ice cream went in the trash tout suite. But it was an amusing distraction and just what he needed.

As we sat there eating our sundaes and getting more stuffed by the minute, we recalled another time we'd gone for sushi and then come to Bev's.

That night we'd promised each other that we'd never make that mistake again.


On the other hand, with each bite, his mood was improving.

When we left, I suggested a walk knowing that the ex hated to walk after eating while he enjoyed it.

Leading the way, I headed straight to the VMFA's sculpture garden (since I'd not seen it at night) while he continued to talk about what was on his mind.

The garden was beautiful with the lighted water steps, the illuminated burbling fountains up top and the lit pathways through it all.

Near the top, we considered how the wooden deck would make a stellar dance pavilion, like the ones at the beaches in days of yore. It even had the sound of moving water in the background.

We stood on the lone metal bench at the very top of the garden, surveying everything below us.

It's a postcard-worthy view of our world-class museum after hours.

Meandering back to Bev's, we detoured so I could show him my favorite screened porch and yard in all of the Museum District.

Our last discussion was about what he should have learned from this last relationship; he wanted to take all the blame and I wouldn't let him.

"You learned how important it is to make sure you can both communicate with the person you love," I told him.

In my experience, you can never talk too much or too long.

But, what do I know? He's been unattached for 24 hours and my current status stands at over two and a half years.

Hell, he should be taking me out for some emotional eating.

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