This perfect paradise is now my home. Every day I try to let that soak in even though it seems to defy all sorts of logic. I'm a city girl, after all. A jaded New Yorker. Ok, I'm originally from a small college-town in Massachusetts but had an instant love affair with the Big Apple starting at age thirteen when I started spending summers training at the Dance Theater of Harlem and Alvin Ailey School of Dance.
My heart feels all warm and gooey right now. Last time I felt this way was circa 2000. But my body remembers vividly this deliciously tortuous feeling when hours of productivity are squandered away daydreaming, dissecting the meaning of each moment spent together and living in anticipation of the next time. I’m such a girl.
SEX! I think I left my vagina in Los Angeles. At the very least, my “horny hormones” stopped functioning the instant I found out my EX had cheated on me and decided to keep it his little secret until my BFF caught wind of his dalliances and spilled the beans. I guess I could’ve chosen the slut route; somehow convincing myself that one-night stands and meaningless sex would feel empowering and that emotional connection and intimacy weren’t pre-requisites for getting off or feeling fulfilled.
