Big Apple, Big Change

My best and oldest friend is moving to New York.

The unselfish, caring, supportive side of me is so, so happy for her. The other side hasn't come out of its bedroom yet after storming off and slamming the door.
You see, she's also currently my housemate. After 17 years of friendship, we've lived together for the last 9 months and its been lovely. It changed our relationship, of course but I felt for the best. So naturally, my other housemate A and I are left with the dilemma of what to do next. I think we're going to try and get someone else in for the room which is depressing for two reasons. Firstly we're going to have to interview a string of potential lunatics from Gumtree or wherever, and secondly, none of them will be my best friend, K.

I didn't handle the news very well. I don't feel as bad as I should about that because the timing was rotten. I'd just spent an hour pouring my heart out about The Ex one Wednesday night a few weeks ago and had just dried my eyes and done that brave but slightly self-conscious, wobbly smile every girl does after they've been bawling unattractively in front of someone. As the last of my Kleenex hit the bin, she told me. Her company have offered her directorship of a major new account over there. They are sorting out the move and getting her an apartment in Manhattan so its full on fabulous SATC joy. Cue much more Kleenex, more bawling and me trying desperately to be supportive whilst clearly very, very upset about it.
We've since entered a weird kind of static field where A and I aren't talking about filling the room and K isn't telling us anything more about NYC. If group denial is possible, we're doing it. She's not going until January but I'm all about the forward planning and details so I'm keen to crack on and make some decisions.

Oh, apparently, not emailing a man is the best way to get him interested. After two days of me not answering the graphic designer's last email, he emailed me again asking if I had time for 'general chit chat' (quick, help me get off my bra) but fortunately I was just disappearing off to a trade show. I dashed off a quick email to say as much and came in this morning to a reply saying he hoped I'd be around soon and giving me another email address to use. Maybe I'll just keep ignoring him - at this rate I could have his phone number by tomorrow.

Finally, the highlight of my week so far was meeting a sexy musician in a bar last night. He wasn't on stage or anything, just with a couple of friends but the fact that he's a singer/lead guitarist came out in conversation (he also has a proper job but I'm dazzled by creative types so I can't remember what it is). I gave him my card and this morning he emailed me. He sent me a link to his band's website which I've checked out. I can pretty much guess what their music is going to be like without listening to it. One of my exes was a lead guitarist and I was a groupie/roadie for a couple of years. You tend to find bands fall into one of two categories. Either they are utterly devoid of talent but desperate for attention so go down the Slipknot route of just bellowing/snorting into a microphone whilst playing the same three chords over and over, or they are genuinely talented and play listenable, slightly heavy on the guitar, Matchbox 20 type stuff. There are no dreadlocks/pig masks on their site so I think I'm safe. Let's see where this one goes...