The plan was simple. To see Pain and Glory, the new Almodóvar movie, at the Angelika on the LES. We bought tickets ahead of time because it wasn’t showing anywhere else. I was supposed to meet Alfie at his thing and then we’d get grub and go to the flix.

What is that saying about God laughing at plans?

First of all, it was cold AF today. In the 50’s and windy. Maybe typical for October, certainly it was last year when I visited. But just two days ago it was 90 and stifling. So I was underdressed for the weather.

Second, when I got into the city, I got turned around (as usual) and went down a road I hadn’t intended. I ran smack dab into Elana, the psychic from last Friday. She wasn’t supposed to be where she was when we met either. But she said it was intended. She said that I need to stop making jokes and be more vulnerable. She said that she adored me, but she wouldn’t say love because she knew it would make me uncomfortable (me the one who can love but cannot be loved). And she said that I am being supported. Very supported. We hugged ten times. And Jewish mother that she is, she told me to zip up my hoodie.

Third, I tripped four times and fell flat on the concrete trying to catch up to Alfie. I’m fine.

Fourth, Adam Sandler passed us on Broadway.

But we made it to the movie and I just want to slow clap. Phenomenal. Just subtle and brilliant. I bought popcorn and Alfie brought chocolate cake, red wine, and street nuts.

We walked to a vegan ramen place and braved the bitter cold. On the way there we stopped at a wine and liquor store and bought sotol. The ramen was mighty fine and I took a bunch home.

From here we split up with intentions of reuniting. But Erica didn’t make definitive birthday plans for Jared (classic Erica) so we ended up freezing our collective groove tushies at Do or Dive (Erica, Maddie and me).

And then C’mon Everybody for dancing to Arabic music.

And then back to their apartment at 4 am to eat leftovers and talk more. Always more.

Best picture ever.

I got home in time for the sunrise. And the most delicious feeling of a heated room. The radiator is on. You’ll never get me out of bed. I plan on dying here.

Also, there should be a law against ex-flames contacting you with dubious innocuity. It’s one thing to read my blog. It’s entirely another thing to summon feelings I’d put to bed and then disappear. That’s just bad form. But knowing me, I won’t say no. Not because I want just anyone, but because I know exactly what I feel. And so does he. I mean you.