This weekend went surprisingly well for me, considering the mess that occurred only days before it. I've got to admit, I have freaking awesome friends.
So I kept my promise from my last post and slipped on a body-con dress, slick nude heels, smudged some eyeliner on and ta-dah! -- embarked on a night out on the town.
My lovely friends and I hit up Maison, a new club in the city for some remixed Sade, vodka-Redbulls (we work long hours people!) and more cigarettes than I'd like to admit. As I glanced around the club last night from our corner booth, I realized that for the first time in a long while, I felt happy. Maybe it was the four drinks in me, but I honestly felt like balloons were on my shoulders and I was upright and functioning after a long time in disrepair.
That's the thing about a good night out -- sometimes it's just what you need. Of course getting wasted and dancing (okay, wobbling is more like it -- you try hitting the dance floor in a skintight dress, 4-inch heels and immensely skewed motor skills) aren't actual solutions to life's problems, but they sure as hell help you get you to where you need to be.
I spent the night remembering how much fun I had just me, on my own, and not within a relationship. Sure, this seems to be a pretty obvious fact, but when you're lost in something for so long, it takes a little push to see your way out of the maze. I flitted from person to person I had not chatted with in forever, I huddled in corners with my girlfriends poking fun at other club-goers (seriously, don't wear Ed Hardy to a club. Just don't.), and most importantly, I felt relevant and excited about life in general.
Last night was the perfect mixture of fun, mingling, and love from good friends made into a post-break-up cocktail especially for me. I can't say I'm still not sad about it, but the edge has definitely been removed from the blade and I feel as though it just might not be the end of the world after all.
x
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