The Weight of Nothing

I went grocery shopping as a single person today. That...was huge.

It's strange, but as I walked into Gristede's to buy a few basics, I realized I'd never been to that particular grocery store without having N in mind. As I strolled the aisles, I felt weightless -- moreso than I ever had there. I immediately remembered all the times I went food shopping in hopes of making N happy -- running around frantically with a plastic basket, tossing in Bisquick and syrup (if he ever wanted pancakes), eggs (to show him I could, in fact, scramble), coffee (for our many mornings together), Coke (I only drink Diet).

I had never bought food just for me, even though I live alone. So, it was with a sense of strength that I lugged home my girly purchases (nonfat yogurt, Lean Cuisine meals, strawberries, bananas...). I opened my refrigerator and looked inside. More than half of the interior was him: leftover homemade salad dressing from when I cooked him dinner, a can of Red Bull just in case he was ever tired before we went out drinking, a half-empty Pepsi can he mixed with Jack Daniel's last weekend, superchocolatey ice cream I picked because I knew he'd like it.

I threw all the leftovers away and replaced them with today's haul. Afterward, my refrigerator looked remarkably normal. And my apartment felt more "me": a emotional coup I don't take lightly.

She Got Game

Being successfully single isn't something one can just swoop right back into after years of being part of a couple. Or so I learned this past weekend.

I traveled to Maryland this past weekend to visit my friend J (and say hi to Neil) and attend one of J's legendary parties. She's quite the socialite, and a diverse crowd always turns up at her soirees. The evening began, and I started talking to two cute cops. They were men of few words -- tough guys' guys who were kind and shy and sweet. I loved that because the men I tend to meet in New York are creative types who talk a lot about concepts and ideas. The thought of conversing with men whose job it is to hustle and protect and do was incredibly hot. So I tried to flirt. And failed. Miserably. Instead of coming up with witticisms or cute questions to ask them, I clutched my cup of Yuengling and shifted from foot to foot in my bright, crazy-print new dress (which I realized too late is a little more Paris Hilton-esque than I had intended), trying to think of something to say.

Then it hit me: I have no game.

I think I lost a bit of moxie somewhere in that stretch of time in a relationship when impressions and appearances don't matter as much, so you say what you want and do what you want and generally backslide into being a regular gal, minus your usual dose of sparkly wit or biting humor. I'm gonna have to get that back at some point, but it'll happen. Incrementally, but I'll get there.

Also, I want to update my Typing Pool Breakup Song List, which -- thanks to all the incredibly smart, sympathetic, and music-savvy people who read this blog -- has become what I like to call "awesome."

Here's the new rundown:

1. "Here I Go Again," Whitesnake (a surprisingly good breakup song)
2. "Greenville" Lucinda Williams
3. "On My Own," Peach Union
4. "Smile," Lily Allen
5. "Song for the Dumped," Ben Folds Five
6. "Ex-Girlfriend," No Doubt
7. "More Adventurous," Rilo Kiley (courtesy S in Minnesota)
8. "Don't Stop Believin'," Journey (or any Journey, if you get right down to it) (courtesy Dr. Blogstein)
9. "Wang Dang Doodle," Koko Taylor (courtesy Phil)
10. "Alone Again, Naturally," Gilbert O'Sullivan (courtesy Dave)
11. "Message in a Bottle," The Police (courtesy Neil)
12. "Erased," Annie Lennox (courtesy Madame X)
13. "Kiss You Off," Scissor Sisters (courtesy Anndi)
14. "I'm Coming Out," Diana Ross (courtesy Tisha)

Consider my iPod filled.

To cap this list off, I was listening to Tori Amos's (quite decent) new album, American Doll Posse, today, and these lines from the song "Bouncing Off Clouds" seemed appropriate:

"Make it easy, make this easy, it's not as heavy as it seems...
Well, you can stare all day at the sky,
But that won't bring her (him) back,
That won't bring her (him) back
You say you're waiting on Fate,
But I think Fate is now
Waiting on us."

Distraction Needed

I'm packing my week with plans, projects, and activities. If I make lots of plans, it's less likely that I'll end up a puddle of mush next to an empty sixer of Bud Light, crying about my failed relationship.

So distraction it is. To that end, S in Minnesota sent me this painting game, which made me really happy. (Try it: You'll see.)

Also, my friend S in D.C. sent me this story from the Times about hella expensive weddings, and the thought that I will be exempt from shelling out $50,000-plus for a New York wedding in the near future made me happy for about two seconds. Until I realized I'm back to square-frigging-one dating-wise.

But unfortunately I can't play the painting game or cackle about shopaholics all week, so I need help from you guys. I need some suggestions for classic, listenable breakup songs. They can be empowering, sappy, or kick-ass, but "listenable" is key: no Britney or similarly sucky Hillary Duff crap, and, for God's sake, no "I Will Survive."

Here's the list I've been working on:

1. "Here I Go Again," Whitesnake (a surprisingly good breakup song)
2. "Greenville," Lucinda Williams
3. "On My Own," Peach Union
4. "Smile," Lily Allen
5. "Song for the Dumped," Ben Folds Five
6. "Ex-Girlfriend," No Doubt

Now's your chance to shine, dear readers. Take some pity on me, put a good song in the comments, and if you're in a relationship, take a second to appreciate it. Before it implodes. Kidding. ("But it all was buuuuulllllshiiiiit!" --Adam Sandler's little ditty in "The Wedding Singer")