Peter worked today, so I decided to clean out the basement.
I'm not the type of person who would ever set out to do such a thing without prodding, so Peter gently suggested that I go through my 48 boxes of books I haven't opened since we moved here four years ago, sort them, and decide which ones to keep and which to donate to the libary. I started at 9AM, didn't take a break until 2, and there's still a boatload of stuff for me clear out down there.
During this session, I came upon two interesting items.
The first was a letter from an old friend apologizing for making out with my then-boyfriend. Now, I haven't seen this girl in years, and I actually kind of miss her. The guy (obviously) turned out to be a jerk (in numerous ways), and I don't miss him at all. Never even think of him.
Her letter said that he'd led her to believe our relationship had ended, which she soon realized was a lie. After she went home to England, I told him to get lost. He resumed pursuing me ardently (some would call it stalking), but by then I'd moved onto a marginally better guy.
The other interesting item I found in the basement?
It was Dianne Brill's how-to book, Boobs, Boys, and High Heels or How to Get Dressed In Just Under Six Hours. In case you don't know Dianne (she's on the right in the 1986 photo with Ozzy Osbourne and Janis Savitt), she became known as Queen of the Night in the 80s due to her constant presence on the NYC club scene. I liken her to a benevolent Paris Hilton without the destructive tendencies.
I hadn't thought about her for years until I happened upon her book. Then I did a search and found her website. Apparently, she's selling her own line of makeup these days.
Boobs, Boys, and High Heels sparkles with Ms. Brill's wit and wisdom. Here's one highlight:
"The bad date does not exist. Believe me, I've been on all kinds, and I've discovered that all are love experiments, learning experiences (even if what you learn is what you don't want), and good dating practice. I've survived a lot of dates a lot of you babes probably dread."
The joker who made out with my friend certainly qualifies as a learning experience. In retrospect, I'd call him less a love experiment than a science experiment. What a doofus!