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Aug. 7th, 2015 01:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
astillarI went to Jane's improv show tonight. I could cite many minor reasons for going, such as: she and her group are funny, I enjoy stand-up, she would appreciate the support and input, she invited me so it would be polite to go, I could use a laugh, etc. The underlying motive though was that I wanted to see her again, in any way, shape, or form. I wasn't 100% sure that this would be the best idea, but I psuedo-rationalized it by saying that it would be good for my recovery to see her doing what she does best, without me.
I had a few drinks on the way down. Like I said, I don't normally drink when I'm depressed but I thought I might need some outside help to dismiss the dark clouds that have been following me, something to mute the negative thoughts that have been playing on loop. I got to the club about 10 minutes early. Nan was waiting in the front. We made small talk about their pets, Jane's new job, Nan's health, and such, while ignoring the elephant in the room. Nan was glad I had come and expressed that Jane would also be thankful. The usher called everyone in and we took our seats in the theater. [“When I read your post I felt terrible.”] As we were waiting for the show to start, Nan asked me, “Are you two really over?”
“According to Jane, we are.” Despite the relaxation of the alcohol and my commitment to be strong, I could feel the tears wanting to well up.
Nan continued, “Jane would kill me if she knew I was telling you this, but she says that she really misses you. Now she's got no one to share with.” She said more but it was hard to make it out with the music playing overhead.
I merely nodded. It didn't seem appropriate to share with her how devastated I was feeling. She began to say something else when the houselights went down.
The show started and the improv groups were excellent. The challenger team went first and they were on point. Fast, creative, and animated, I really liked their work, though they did change topics very abruptly which I felt lost the audience momentarily each time. Jane's group did as well as they ever do; Sally (the team's sparkplug) seemed a bit subdued tonight. It was a close match. I filled out my ballot for the challenger but abstained from turning it in. It turned out that Jane's team won which means they'll be returning next week. So I may come back for that.
After the show everyone moved to the lobby. I sat with Nan and we talked about the show for a few minutes as we waited for the comedians to come out. The conversation ebbed and I considered leaving before Jane came out. I could easily have said that I needed to catch my train back home. But I knew that Nan has trouble walking and that Jane would want to pull the car around, but this wasn't the sort of neighborhood where a girl should be walking alone after dark. So I stayed. Eventually Jane emerged and we three talked of comedy for a bit. I then walked Jane to her car. We avoided any delicate topics, mainly just talked about the show. She thanked me for coming and said that she was a bit surprised that I had. I shrugged it off, saying that, “Regardless of what's going on with us, you and your group are really funny.” We got to her car and I told her to take care. She asked me to give Lilly a kiss for her.
As soon as we separated I could acutely feel that cavity inside of me. I don't know if this venture was good or bad for me. I'm home now and that sadness is still there just as before.
I had a few drinks on the way down. Like I said, I don't normally drink when I'm depressed but I thought I might need some outside help to dismiss the dark clouds that have been following me, something to mute the negative thoughts that have been playing on loop. I got to the club about 10 minutes early. Nan was waiting in the front. We made small talk about their pets, Jane's new job, Nan's health, and such, while ignoring the elephant in the room. Nan was glad I had come and expressed that Jane would also be thankful. The usher called everyone in and we took our seats in the theater. [“When I read your post I felt terrible.”] As we were waiting for the show to start, Nan asked me, “Are you two really over?”
“According to Jane, we are.” Despite the relaxation of the alcohol and my commitment to be strong, I could feel the tears wanting to well up.
Nan continued,
I merely nodded. It didn't seem appropriate to share with her how devastated I was feeling. She began to say something else when the houselights went down.
The show started and the improv groups were excellent. The challenger team went first and they were on point. Fast, creative, and animated, I really liked their work, though they did change topics very abruptly which I felt lost the audience momentarily each time. Jane's group did as well as they ever do; Sally (the team's sparkplug) seemed a bit subdued tonight. It was a close match. I filled out my ballot for the challenger but abstained from turning it in. It turned out that Jane's team won which means they'll be returning next week. So I may come back for that.
After the show everyone moved to the lobby. I sat with Nan and we talked about the show for a few minutes as we waited for the comedians to come out. The conversation ebbed and I considered leaving before Jane came out. I could easily have said that I needed to catch my train back home. But I knew that Nan has trouble walking and that Jane would want to pull the car around, but this wasn't the sort of neighborhood where a girl should be walking alone after dark. So I stayed. Eventually Jane emerged and we three talked of comedy for a bit. I then walked Jane to her car. We avoided any delicate topics, mainly just talked about the show. She thanked me for coming and said that she was a bit surprised that I had. I shrugged it off, saying that, “Regardless of what's going on with us, you and your group are really funny.” We got to her car and I told her to take care. She asked me to give Lilly a kiss for her.
As soon as we separated I could acutely feel that cavity inside of me. I don't know if this venture was good or bad for me. I'm home now and that sadness is still there just as before.
