Last night, I was in the cab on my way home when the driver asked me which way I’d rather take to get home. He was answered with silence. I stared at the back of his seat, before shifting my gaze to the window into the streets of Dublin.
“I don’t know. I don’t know which way is best or fastest to take! I only know where home is.”
Let’s go back a couple of hours prior to this incident…
My friend and I are drinking at a bar – and she asks how I’ve been doing. I thought I could answer that normally and positively as I’ve gotten so used to do in the past weeks: “Yeah it’s okay you know? Gotta keep hustling.”
Instead I crack down. It must have been a side effect of that bottle of wine I shared with a date earlier, and the pints we were drinking then. It was a friend’s baby shower a week earlier (in Montreal), I missed it. And it all poured out: it sucks to not be there, with them and for them. I’m aware that I chose this path, but I don’t think I truly realized how much I’d get hurt by it.
I was initially just going to write about how this week was exactly what I needed, and in a twisted way, it came full circle last night.
Last Sunday I met a friend of my roommate’s. In a weird turn of events, my roommate decided to go out that night and left the two of us alone. And it was by far the best night/day I had in the longest time: watching movies, playing video games, jesting and eating crappy pizza until 2am. It felt like I was hanging out with one of my own friends.
A couple of days later, I met up with some new girlfriends I made and we spent the entire day eating, window shopping (and doing some actual shopping!) and drinking hot chocolate while complaining about everything and nothing. And I thought, this is perfect. This is what I need: friends; spending time not at pubs and clubs where making superficially deep encounters and sharing false words of romance are all-you-can-eat (but not BYOB).
So yesterday over drinks with a close girlfriend, I guess I broke down because as good as this week had felt, it made me terribly miss my friends from Montreal. I have never craved North America. This week, I woke up one day and all I wanted was to be in Downtown Montreal, having coffee amidst the tall buildings and streets I know. (Or, à la rigueur, any concrete jungle.) How cliché.
So after a couple of more pints, some drunken encounters, late-night meetings at the Spire and Chinese food, we’re back in the cab with the driver who obviously wants to take the long way home.
I spent the entire day today Skyping my friends. I recounted the cab story to my friend: “Drop me anywhere in the province of Quebec, and I’ll know exactly how to get home, which is the scenic route and where to stop for the food. Put me 15 minutes North, East, South or West of my apartment in Dublin and I won’t even know which way is North.”
She answered beautifully: “Not knowing which road to take is not important, as long as you know where home is.”
Some people have told me recently that maybe I have unrealistic expectations. And to them I say, no. It’s okay for me to dream, to fight for that dream, and to not know which road to take. And it might be better for me to not know which is the fastest way. As long as I know where home is, and whom I can find there.
Currently obsessed with 11:11 by Taeyeon. Perfect ballad for these fall times. Bonus, B.A.P.’s jazz inspired intro track "Le Noir" to their new album "Noir" which is a gem.