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Urban Cadence

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Monday, Oct. 04, 2004 @ 11:34 a.m.

Lesson of the weekend: ALWAYS check the expiration date on a carton of milk before you guzzle it down.

Gawd, I felt so sick yesterday. French Fitch had to work for a couple of hours, so after he left, I decided I wanted milk. I opened the fridge, and there it was, a carton of soy milk that belonged to him. Gulp gulp gulp. Tasted a little funky, but I didn't think much of it because French Fitch is extremely health-conscious and everything he eats is low fat, low carb, and in my opinion, low taste as well.

Then I spent the rest of yesterday feeling really nauseaus. It was horrible. French Fitch was so sweet, he cooked a great dinner. I wasn't particularly feeling like eating, but I had to, since I hadn't eaten anything all day since the bad soy milk. So we ate (it was delicious), and watched "Desperate Housewives". It was pretty good... I never saw Teri Hatcher in anything decent since "The Adventures of Lois and Clark". Those Radio Shack commercials she did were appalling... I'd had her typecasted as a looney psycho woman.

Saturday night, we went out to West Hollywood and hung out with Louis. We didn't make any arrangements to meet, and he was so surprised when we showed up. I'd talked to him a few days before, and he said that he was sick of going out to bars alone. Before French Fitch and I became an item, I was out with Louis every weekend. After I got "married and buried" (as Louis likes to put it), one of his ex-boyfriends moved back to town, and they hung out every weekend. Now, his ex-boyfriend found himself a boyfriend 2 months ago, and Louis is finding himself "abandoned" once again.

I feel bad, because he is one of my closest friends... and I would totally hang out with him on the weekends, like go to dinner, catch movies, go shopping, etc. But his idea of hanging out has to involve West Hollywood bars and clubs, so that's the tricky part. His depression is to blame, I guess. He has absolutely no motivation whatsoever to emerge from his safety zone, the West Hollywood bubble. I invited him over to our new place a few times, but none of them worked out... he cancelled on me every time. He would apologize profusely of course, and when he got on Zoloft a couple of months back, he thought that things would change. But unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be working. Clinical depression is as crippling as a physical disability, and it sucks that all I can do is feel sorry for him... and nothing else. When I first met him, he was "normal", and he was such a vibrant, cheerful guy.

I hope that guy re-emerges someday soon, 'cos that's who he really is.

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