Deteriorating, tonight, rapidly. Where are my benzodiazepines???
I remember, just last week, at Ozumo, in my usual Alexander Wangs and Balenciaga, accompanied by H, just coming off MDMA earlier that evening.
We joked about the Russians to our right, about the heavily Botoxed hostess, about our thoroughly incompetent bartender.
The week prior, we were in the same place, hungrier. We’d encountered a tourist from Florida who thought H was only the second man I’d slept with.
We both chortled and made our way to Chaya for another drink and wondrous views of the bridge that warm, drizzly evening.
His Cayman S was in the shop, so we had to settle for my 3 series convertible.
This is my life, I’d thought to myself. This is my life, I think to myself.
Jul 13
H and I went to the Burritt Room yesterday, after I’d purchased several shirts from Thomas Pink. We wandered into Burberry (possibly because of my prior effusive statements about a particularly attractive male salesman there), but H said he wanted shorts. Wrong time of year, I think. All the resort stuff is out, obviously, but even though I’m not usually a fan of Burberry, their Fall/Winter collection really resonated with me. Dark, structured pieces…something I’d expect to see on Carine Roitfeld. Lots of over-the-knee boots, which I pondered briefly, but generally, tight black leather, slightly rockstar qualities from the mid-90s.
Want.
And then it’d been too long since his last drink, so we headed to yet another bar that he’d introduce me to, another one of those cocktail places. After he had 5 or 6 perfect rye manhattans and me 5 or 6 ryes/scotches/whiskys, we ordered veal sweetbreads and I requested the charcuterie plate with just the terrine (I find prosciutto to be fairly pedestrian).
Fast forward a bit, we’re at home, getting ready to go out. I donned the ridiculously snug violet dress that I’d worn on our second date, and I saw the look in his eyes.
I am worried that I’m just toying with him, making him believe that something will continue to happen after my love gets back. I’m having fun now, but I don’t like to do so at the expense of others. Then again, this could be a lesson that H sorely needs. He told me he’d vowed never to shop at Saks again because they refused to allow him to return a pair of shoes, long past their return date.
I thought to myself, Wow, you really don’t get refused, ever.
Jul 17
Found a new favorite water on Friday night, Saint Géron, from Auvergne.
Jul 23
Friday: OAK ✈ MDW / Waldorf suite / Benard’s Bar + Laphroaig 18 + Thomas Handy Rye / H & my lawyer + cocaine / passed out from too many benzodiazepines
Saturday: Drive to MKE / Dinner with family at Lake Park Bistro / Perrier Jouet Fleur de Champagne 2004 / discovery that Milwaukee stops selling liquor at 11pm / Back to Chicago / Super Smash Bros
Sunday: Waldorf pool with my sister / parents in Chicago / disastrous dinner + too many benzodiazepines + the only thing the restaurant had was Johnnie Walker / Balsan oysters + whisky / H at 2am, maybe 3am to console me
Monday: Barneys shopping / W Lakeshore Moroccan-style bloody marys (x2) / 9:30am conference call with work / irony at Bennigan’s / Art Institute + Nighthawks / the beach / sickness / late night thunderstorms + lightning / roughest sex thus far with H
Tuesday: Bloomingdales, Neiman Marcus / 96th Floor Lounge / Shedd Aquarium, but did not see the belugas / afternoon tea at the Peninsula / finish the cocaine / the beach / H reads me his favorite scenes from American Psycho / rough sex / hunger resulting in too much junk food / more rough sex / break / sleep
Wednesday: Cru Cafe & Wine Bar + champagne / MDW ✈ SFO / more Bret Easton Ellis / Laphroaig on the taxi home / 10 grams waiting for us
