At one point—after we had stopped seeing each other, while we were still being amiable, and before things had gotten heated—we had a conversation. We divided up territory. He said, “Take whatever you want,” he acquiesced. “But you can’t take The 19. It’s the only place I feel comfortable, and I know so many people there.”
I replied, “No. The 19 is Switzerland.”
He reluctantly agreed to The 19 as the Safe Space, as Sanctuary. At the time, I thought that was a success.
I often still go there, late at night with friends, a nightcap or a pre-party. It’s a place I feel comfortable. I know so many people there. And I’ve never seen him. I’m unsure as to whether I should consider this an indicator of my success or my failure.