March 2004: while avoiding Candace Bushnell and Charles Askegard at Marquee, I smashed into Scotchy for the very first time. He was dashing, and crumpled, and immediately I knew it was trouble.
In the morning he reached for The New York Times, and read the business section before remarking, “you know, I rather like you.” We had vodka for breakfast.
May 2004: At 5 am, Scotchy declares himself “too shy” to sleep over, and dumps me the next day. I smile and tell him I don’t care; he leaves in a huff. Then I cry for two weeks straight.
October 2004: Scotchy and I have our second smash, on Rivington. I steal his cell and tell his girlfriend, on the other line, that her services are no longer needed. In those exact words, too. We kiss and I run to Brasserie at 1 am.
December 2004: I crash Brandon Holley’s birthday party, a Led Zepplin cover concert at the Delancey. Then I pay a surprise visit to Scotchy, down the street. Bliss until noon the next day, when we realize it’s noon the next day. Vodka for lunch.
February 2005: Scotchy and I debate, heatedly, in McDonalds, about whether we’re in love. We spend the following 2 days in bed trying to figure it out, but no luck. My roommates ban Scotchy from our apartment.
April 2005: Scotchy dumps me again, on my bed, despite the apartment ban. I throw his Chapstick out the window. We both laugh as he leaves.
May 2005: Scotchy crashes a Twister party by sitting cross-legged on the board until I fall onto him. In the morning he tells me he’s in love with me, and I should just give in, move into his Soho loft, and marry him. Instead, I kick him out of my apartment and erase his number from my cell.
Yesterday: Scotchy leaves a message on my cell phone. He talks in a fake British accent. He starts to laugh and calls me a bird. I stare out the window at a bunch of new horses. They stare back with black eyes, and I wonder if they run farther when they know they’re being watched.
[MIA KIRSCHNER - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]
It’s like reading polaroids. In a really really good way.
Are you fucking kidding me? I know we don’t live together anymore, but he’s still banned. From any where. At any time.
I’ll turn this blog around if you don’t behave Miss IS. So help me I will.