Sucker Punched

Yesterday, Blondie (aka Cougar) ever so casually sucker punched me. During a run-of-the-mill phone conversation, she's sharing stories about her weekend antics with her current crush. At which time, she mentions that she had recently hung out with The Producer.

Background: It's been nearly three weeks and aside from a little moping around the day of the talk, I've suffered very little break-up distress. There have been a couple twings of how-could-I-be-so-stupid/blind/niave, however I've been impressively quite confident.

Then Blondie sucker punched me. She reminded me he existed. Suddenly there was no air in my lungs. How did it get hot so quickly? I mentally spun through the cycle of questions which should never be asked: didheaskaboutme?, didhesayanything?, didshesayanything?, washetalkingaboutsomeonenew?

Prescription to treat sucker punch:
One bottle of red wine
5 cigarettes
50 minutes on the phone with a dear friend
8 hours of sleep

Twelve hours later, my reasoning is intact. Ending something with someone is never glamourous. However since it took me nearly three weeks to have my first panic attack, full recovery can't be far away... Appropriately enough, there is a fantastic party planned for Saturday night, and a second even more fabulous party planned for next Thursday. That's all the distraction I need.