Love | Lies | Lattes

"I desire the things that will destroy me in the end." — Sylvia Plath

Month: May, 2016

Drunken Conversations Vol. III


“I’m sorry.”

He sounded so genuine, as if he was sincerely apologizing. Almost somber. I didn’t know what to make of it. His presence tonight was already taking me back to summer nights together one year ago.

“For what?”

I looked up, and glanced at his face. He was watching me, of course, like he used to. I wasn’t sure if the alcohol had something to do with it, but he did not seem overly flirty as I’ve previously seen him behave after one too many drinks.

“For not hanging out. There’s been…a lot going on.
I miss our pho dates.”

It seemed like a silly thing to apologize for, as he had only been back in town for a few days. It almost felt like a deeper apology, but for what, I wasn’t sure. It sounded deep-rooted. Was it for all of the things that happened so long ago? Would he even know to apologize for those things?

“Don’t worry about it.”

He seemed content with that, but still quiet. I didn’t say anything to give him hope, because I wasn’t sure if that was a door I’d ever reopen. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure if this was a conversation he would remember tomorrow.

He leaned over as if to whisper something, and instead left a soft kiss on my shoulder.


Drunken Conversations Vol. II

He wanted me to go back on my word, on what I told him months ago the last time we had addressed it. He wanted to know if my reasoning from before was still the case.

“If I wasn’t in the situation I am now,
would this still have happened?”

I had to really think about it. I had thought about it before, in the broad scheme of things. But I’d never thought about it as this direct thing that we were doing. And I answered honestly, in the moment, what I felt was true.

But I never would’ve answered that honestly, if I knew then what I later assessed. I never would’ve said the words, had I known that there might be potential feelings aboard this ship. That what we were doing was starting to anchor down in him and take hold. I never would’ve told him,

“I think this would have been inevitable.”

Dream Goals

Today, the DJ for tonight’s wedding asked me something that I haven’t been asked in a while. For the past year, I have been finished with school and out in the “real world.” It was surreal for about 2 months after graduation, and then it was perfect (in concept). I was offered a full-time job in the area of my interest among people that I liked, immediately following college. Wedding coordinating at a venue and catering company. So of course, I took it. And like any project I take on, I immersed myself in it.

But tonight, the DJ asked me, “What is it that you really want to do?” I asked her what she meant, and she rightfully said, “I can tell that weddings isn’t your dream goal. I mean, you seem like you enjoy what you do, and you were great to work with today, but I can see that this isn’t what you want to end up doing.”

So I told her the truth, that no, as much as I do love working weddings and creating memorable event experiences for people, my end goals are bigger. I told her how I want to work on award shows, their after parties, product launches, fashion runways. Red carpet, high-profile, cushy budget, 1000+ guest count.

These were goals I used to share with anyone I’d stumbled upon back when I was in college, going to school for Event Management. And for the past year, I started to look at these goals as more of dreams, and though the passion is still strong, the burning belief that I could reach these goals had begun to fade.

Drunken Conversations Vol. I

Nothing was said for a few seconds. We sat there comfortably, in silence, in darkness.

And out of nowhere, he said it.

I wish I could remember for the sake of the story if I was already looking at him, if I was leaning my head on his shoulder, if he was already looking at me quietly but complacently. Thoughtfully.

But I can’t remember, and I guess that’s what this new series of blog posts is all about.

His question took me off guard. I never expected him to address what we were doing, or initiate a conversation about it. I never expected to ever talk about it with him. Not really.

But he said it, and I looked at him, unable to really give him an answer, not because I was in shock (partially) that he brought it up, but because I really didn’t know what would happen.

“This is going to end badly, isn’t it?”