Mental Rehab Post #7
I'm finding out a lot about myself. Some things that I didn't know, some others that I knew and was actively suppressing that have morphed into something else entirely. But I recently found out something else.
Yesterday Schmoopy hit me up out the blue about brunch which we were supposed to be going to weeks ago but didn't and she asked me where we should go. She said around our agreed upon meeting time she would be up in my old stomping grounds (Sandy Springs nee Buckhead) and asked me to decide where we would eat.
Having not lived there in a minute, I switched over to my trusty online source for most things grub-wise in Atlanta, the always interesting Citysearch.
I found myself with tears welling in my eyes about two minutes later.
In an odd twist of fate, using Citysearch reminds me of Sporty. She and I ate out every week. Like every week. You don't understand, we went out EVERY week. Like clockwork. In 2005 I think we missed like three weeks. And whereas I hung out a lot, and ate at a lot of places before she and I hooked up, my m.o. is to find I spot I like and metaphorically camp out for while, learn the menu, become a semi-regular. What we did by design was that we explored a lot of Atlanta's restaurants and areas together, so there were times I would use Citysearch. Okay, let me rephrase that, I used the fuck out of Citysearch. Checking menus, directions, opening times, reading reviews, new spots, the works, if they offered the service I used it.
So apparently in my mind her and it are linked. And now I wonder how many other emotional bombs are lurking around in my psyche. I had already been a little leery of going a few of the places where we'd had a good time, just in case, but to think that something I wasn't thinking about will just suddenly sideline me.
This would not be good. Not at all.
Barkeep. Drinks. Contents don't matter.