So this weekend was rather eventful. I went to not one but two (two!) social gatherings centered around work, and managed to strike up intelligible conversation with people who didn't even know I existed prior to Saturday morning.
Highlight: an editor I sit directly across from in the office introduced me to his kids and couldn't seem to remember my name. Despite the fact that I've formally introduced myself.
And we've talked extensively once or twice about being History majors in college.
And we've discussed our mutual interest in francophone literature.
It's an indescribable feeling.
After my day of schmooooozing I was invited out by a couple of different friend groups for Saturday evening plans and more plans, but I ended up going home instead. I was genuinely tired, but I think that a call from a certain someone could have changed that.
Too bad we can't make people care more than they do. I hate that I still think about him and I hate to admit it even more.