Danny's birthday dinner was Friday night, and a group of us gathered at the Spaghetti Factory. Pictures were taken, which are actually up on his myspace, for those who have access to it. I'm sure they're in other locations, but I suck and don't have that handy, so I can't post links to it.
Chelle tells me it was the saddest birthday dinner she's ever been to, only I disagree. I thought it actually went off fairly well, all things considered. Food was good, conversation flowed fairly well. No awkward silences, no angry exchanges. The only truly awkward moment happened when we bumped into friends on our way out who hadn't been told about the breakup, and so were unaware of the current circumstances...
All in all, things are going okay. It has to be the absolute most strange breakup on record, as things go, but we both agree, since we've spent a fair amount of time discussing it, that this should have happened a long time ago. The ease with which we're handling the actual emotional side of it tells us that this is the right thing to do. We're better friends than life partners. And we're damn good friends. I'm grateful for that.
Things are still going to be a little weird. You can't sleep with someone and spend that part of your life with them for seven years without their being a little weirdness. But things are going to be okay, I think. He's been my best friend for so long, that it would just be wrong if that suddenly stopped cold. I just want to see him be happy. And I wasn't making him happy, not really. We tried to, but it just wasn't there. We're both much happier without the pretending...
Anyhow, Danny is now twenty six, and life is moving on. Things are moving on. And my midnight ramblings are still as pointless and random as always.
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