Monday was my last day in New York City. It was a day that involved a lot of self reflection. It was a day of cosmic righteousness LOL. Before you decide I’ve gone all evangelical on you, allow me to explain myself.
It started in what for me is one of the happiest places in the world: Murray’s Bagels. There I was, eating my smoked fish sandwich. It was cold out, but I was warm and in a place I adored. I was drinking my hot tea, and like magic it started to snow. It was the first snow I’d seen since leaving London almost two years ago. In the background there was a song I remembered from the 80s, “In A Big Country.” The lyrics to the song could have been the lyrics this chapter of my life.
So take that look out of here, it doesn’t fit you
Because it’s happened doesn’t mean you’ve been discarded
Pull up your head off the floor, come up screaming
Cry out for everything you ever might have wanted
I thought that pain and truth were things that really mattered
But you can’t stay here with every single hope you had shattered
I’m not expecting to grow flowers in a desert
But I can live and breathe and see the sun in wintertime
In a big country, dreams stay with you
Like a lover’s voice fires the mountainside
It was as if all the planets had aligned, and I was having the most perfect New York moment. I swear I couldn’t have choreographed the thing any better. I returned to my hotel, packed, and left to JFK. It was time to go home.
That afternoon I waited an extra two hours for my plane to take off. The snow had caused a disruption. Looking outside I saw a blanket of white, as far as the eyes could see (you’d think it was a Republican rally LOL).
I don’t know what possessed me exactly, maybe it was the boredom? Maybe it was because of the silly dream I had the previous morning. In the dream my ex became a playboy of sorts. He dumped the mistress for a motorcycle riding blond named Chanel (my subconscious obviously does not lack a sense of humor). So, What was the horrible thing I did? Something I promised myself not to do. After several solid months of good behavior, I did the stalker thing. I googled his name.
Low and behold, ten days ago Dr ManWhore filed bankruptcy. It is official public record. What does that mean exactly? Well probably his three fancy Italian motorcycles will be a thing of the past. God he loved his Ducatis; they were his passion. It was hugely expensive hobby: the insurance, the gear, the storage, the whole lifestyle that went with them … I have no doubt his colossus of a Mercedes will be repossessed too. No more exotic breaks or expensive trinkets. No more credit cards. I have no idea about his living situation, but wouldn’t it be poetic justice if he has to move in with his parents (just like me)?
It must have been a long hard fall for a man who defined his success by his accumulation of toys. I did not laugh or smile, but I did feel a mild sense of vindication. I did feel greatful at being able to witness his downfall –even though I really don’t know the specifics. I will never forget what it felt like cowering in the dark on the floor of my sister’s closet in absolute terror. I remember crying hysterically. It was about a month after I came back to America. I didn’t know what would become of me (I still don’t, but I’m getting more okay with that). It was petrifying for a person who always liked to plan even the slightest minutiae of the day in her oversized diary, to have totally lost control. Now, I am guessing he knows what fear feels like too.
It must taste bitter indeed when you are forced to swallow your own medicine. There is a peace that comes when Lady Karma evens the playing field. Yeah, she’s a bitch alright, and that’s why we are friends.