Because I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. I’ll tell you. This is how it happened. The breakup.
We are at brunch. At Clinton Street Baking Co. With tons of people all around me. And coffee. And everyone’s like “Jenny, where’s Reed?” and I shrug and he walks in with his arm around this girl. She wasn’t even pretty. She wasn’t even memorable, like, I remember exactly what I was wearing (Paper jeans, a Jovovich-Hawk lace dress, Rainbow flip flops, Chloe Paddington bag) and I remember exactly who I was sitting with (that bassist from Louis XIV on one side and Vinnie Postetivo on the other) and I don’t remember what she looked like or her name. Just his arm, around her, like see, it’s a unit. Us. Not you. Not okay.
It was so confusing and I was like “Hi, I’m Jenny,” to this girl and everyone at the table was staring. Like, who is this girl and did you and Reed break up? But no, we hadn’t, at least not yet. I mean, the night before we were at a Decembrists concert and everything was fine. So what the hell. I couldn’t even finish my coffee.
Then it started to pour and there were ten of us trapped inside the restaurant and only one cab came by. And Reed stands up and he’s like “Jenny, let’s go.” And I’m like, “let’s go where? To hell? Because that’s the only place I think you’re going right now!”
Okay, so I didn’t say that. I said, “okay,” and we hopped in the cab and he kissed this unmemorable girl goodbye and the whole table just stared and I. wanted. to. die. Really.
Then in the cab.
“What’s up, Jen?” he goes. Jerk.
“What’s up with you is probably a better question,” I say and then he’s like, “Jenny, look. You are beautiful and you’re this great girl but I think you have the wrong idea. I’m not your boyfriend. I’m just some guy that liked you.”
And the cab pulls up in front of my house and I climb out and I’m bawling.
Of course, it was raining so hard that you couldn’t even tell.