Brit & Co

A month after the break up, I had a new boyfriend. His name my couch. I would dream about my couch; I would talk about my couch at school; all I did in class was count down until I could walk home and lay back down on it with remote in hand. I guess I deal with depression by forming unnatural attachments to inanimate objects, most likely furniture. Remember to not let me meet your recliner after a death in the family.



The couch and I broke up, cold turkey, the weekend of the Brit & Co. It had been a month since the ex flew home that fateful September day. But first, a bit of background on the Brit:

The summer before I had visited the ex at the end of his study abroad program in England, and in doing so I got to meet the Brit. The Brit was the program assistant for the study abroad program, and had been for 3 years, so I had heard much about him thru one of my best friends who worked with him on the program one summer. How we met: I saw him in the courtyard to his university, ran over and yelled, "HI! You're ____! I've known who you are for years and you're awesome!" He's told me since then that he honestly didn't know what was happening and that for a second or two he actually thought he had started tripping. Naturally, I scared the shit out of the poor Brit with my overly affectionate American style. Ok, so I've been told what I did is weird in America, too. Regardless...he was now in America, studying at a school close-ish to DC. He was coming in for the weekend, and I had offered to show him around since he was a District Virgin.

Friday night, my roommates, my bee eff eff at law school (known affectionately as Just Eric), and I headed to AdMo to meet Brit & Co. "& Co" included: German, Another Brit, French, and Brazillian. Creative names, I know, but their nationalities make them who they are. This weekend was a whirlwind: Dinner & drinks at La Rumba, Jello (jelly if you're a Brit) shots at Millie & Als, dancing the night away at Grand Central. The nine of us had one of those perfect nights where the social circle fit perfectly. We introduced the lovely international friends to the glory that is the Jumbo Slice, a DC institution. The best part of the evening probably came when my roommate was smoking on the porch of Grand Central and a guy walking by thought it was a good idea to put her in a headlock.

After Friday night, I showed them the mall whilst hungover on Saturday; we took phallic pictures with the Wash Monument - the usual. I had a house party that night. We dinered it up on Sunday, and then they drove off. It was a perfect weekend. New friends, new adventures. That's when I made the change. And I suppose that's when things started to become interesting.