the best things are unexpected

a solo saturday evening date, cats, bars, dreams, & other rambles

Good morning my loves,

It’s Tuesday, October 25th. I’m pretty sure today is the Solar Eclipse, and I’m pretty sure we’re in Scorpio season. I’m also pmsing, and I don’t know if anyone else is like this - but I always get the worst insomnia the week before. I think I’ve been falling asleep at 4 am since Saturday night, which means we’ve been curled up in our matching set on the couch, avoiding the outside world as much as possible, and eating lots of minestrone.

Was this how I imagined my final week in Rome? No, but truth be told - I am exhausted. I think it’s the combination of astrological energy, my hormones, and moving excitement/anxiety/fatigue.

So, we are swapping out our daily cobblestone streets/potato pizza walks for a few lazy days on the sofa. I think the most I will do today is take a shower. And sometimes, having one thing on your to-do list is the healthiest thing you can do for yourself. And I’ll probably order myself a hamburger and fries for dinner, because that’s also the healthiest thing we can do when we are in this state of mind.

I get to see my best friends next week, and can I tell you something? I realized that I do not want to live on a different continent than them. I realized that I can not survive without them. Well, I can. But do I want to? No, I do not. Life is too short to win alone.

Speaking of best friends, I have to tell you about my dream last night. For those of you who don’t know, I have two cats back at home - Goose and Toulouse. Even if you’re not a cat person, I will guarantee that you will love Goose and Toulouse. They love to be in the middle of everyone’s business. They love being carried around like newborn babies, they love to jump on your lap while you’re eating dinner, they love to pretend that they’re little olympians and jump ten feet in the air to play fetch. Whenever I’d get ready for a night out, they would always lie on my bed and watch me drink my Pinot Grigio and apply my makeup.

“What is your mom getting herself into tonight?” I would say to blank cat-stares.

Anyways, the point of my cat ramble was to tell you about my mid-morning dream of them. They were kittens and running around the house, and for some reason - the house was full of white and pink balloons and pink doughnuts. But it was the details of the dream that really stuck with me. Goose hiding in her favourite basket, Toulouse getting into the bags of doughnuts. Anyways, suffice to say - I guess I really miss them.

I’ll tell you about my weekend. I was in a Midnights-induced floating mood, and wanted to take myself on an Emily Mais date. An Emily Mais date always consists of some form of black silk, Pinot and a homemade charcuterie board, and reservations at a bar or restaurant that I’ve always wanted to try.

There’s a speakeasy in Rome that I keep hearing about, and I usually roll my eyes at speakeasies or private membership clubs because I believe that everything should be accessible to everyone, but I digress. Anyways, I decided to look into making a reservation for one because - aesthetically, it’s the perfect place for a solo date night. Dark leather couches and candles - what more could we want?

Well, it was booked. Of course it was. Like every other restaurant and bar that I tried to make reservations at on a Saturday night. So, I took destiny into my own hands and decided to go back to Old Faithful. Old Faithful houses the subject of my past newsletters. I never really know if he’s happy to see me, especially since our last series of events (re: me showing up with a guy after announcing I was “leaving the country” a month ago). It’s always a gamble. Some might say that I could be the problem. And to that, I say - well, what else am I supposed to be doing?

Anyways, there is something about this bar. It’s…cheesy, yes. Overdone. There’s a million and one things going on, and it makes me laugh. But, there is something cosmic about it that always makes me feel like I’m returning home.

The best things are unexpected, I write down after eyeing the walls of alcohol. When I first starred at these walls back in April, I never imagined this bar would be a place that I’d keep returning to.

The corner seats at this bar are always mine. It doesn’t matter if it’s the left or right side, I will claim a corner because then I only risk one person talking to me. I never order anything on the menu anymore, it’s a standard dirty martini with vodka and extra olives. I will never take my jacket off, it will hang over my shoulders, and I will write. I will then eat an entire bowl of olives, and then eventually ask for spring rolls and a drunken cigarette. Someone else from the bar always has to accompany me outside to light it, since I am usually without a lighter and they only use matches. This is my routine.

I can always count on some sort of entertainment. A drunk guy wanting to buy me a shot, pretending to be Interested About My Life. A couple asking me what I write about. Another drunk guy wanting to buy me a shot. My phone eventually dies throughout the night, so it is these moments where the object of my past newsletters begins to hover, knowing when to distract when needed. He is the one who is charging my phone, and I always wonder what he thinks as he listens to my conversations that will not go anywhere.

“I have to tell you something”, I tell him as I slide onto my usual seat.

He raises his eyebrows. This fucking girl, are the words that I imagine run through his head.

“I’m leaving on the 30th.”

He nods. “Of November. To Australia.”

“No, October. Back home for a bit, then Australia.”

I start to laugh, but I really am not sure what I’m laughing at. Maybe it’s because I’ve finally realized we can’t take everything so seriously.

He points to my half empty martini glass.

“You want another?”

I smile and nod.

A girl my age sits down next to me. I am thankful it is not a drunk baffoon. She orders a drink and we start chatting. She's from Boston and asks me to join her midnight reservation at the speakeasy that I originally wanted to get into. The cosmic universe.

“Before we go though, we should get your boy to change the music. The vibe in here is weird.”

I love this girl already.

I call him over. “This one’s all you” I tell her as he approaches us, and I hop off my barstool to leave.

The best things are unexpected.

Well, I love you. And I hope you enjoyed my little story time. One more hour until I’ll order my burger and put myself to bed watching RHOP.

xo forever + ever,

Emily

PS. Not to quote myself, but this quote from Failing Gracefully has been running through my mind over the past week:

“Sometimes I ask myself who I’m writing for, and maybe that’s the art of it all.

To go home, and to come back again, again, and again.”

♥️