Spending hours innocently talking about your sitch during a painful time of your life to a friend of ten years while roaming the streets of NYC and doing nothing physical even if it felt "date-like"? I see nothing wrong here. Talking. Unburdening. If you want to beat yourself up, go stand in the kitchen and whack your head with the frying pan a few times.
Gardener
"My soul, be satisfied with flowers, With fruit, with weeds even; but gather them In the one garden you may call your own." Cyrano deBergerac
