Regression or Progression? Part I

The events of the past two days have blown away my illusions of a "peaceful" New Year, but at the same time, I'm happier now than I was on Tuesday morning, so it's all for the best. Tuesday evening was relatively calm... the calm before the storm. I watched the new Law & Order SVU at 10:00 and the actors who played the parents of the suspect were Nora and John Sykes from OLTL. It was a little disconcerting. I tried to read something into it, but came up empty. B and I had a tense phone call. I subjecting him to my repetitive untangling of the Narc mess and he got "short" with me said he had to go. I got all emotional (as I'm prone to do) and asked him why he makes me feel like a burden. We ended up hanging up upset and apoligizing a few minutes later. The phone call left me unsettled though, and I didn't want to be at home. I sat on my bed for a while as Jekyll and Hyde battled it out in my head... to go out drinking or not to go out? That was the question. I decided that with my "New Year, New Me" attitude, I would try something I never do--moderation!

I went to Cheers (where else?) and hung out with IrishBird at the bar for a while, chugging diet cokes until my fingers were numb from the cold glass. When I first got there, BarMan and his roomate were at the bar, and I asked them for some friendly "relationship advice." Later, the bar emptied out (probably due to the frigid temperatures), leaving me with only two companions, each of us separated by a few bar stools. The guy to my right (Tom) struck up a conversation with me about closing time at New York bars. It turns out he is in this week from Chicago. He was drinking Maker's on the rocks. At "last call" (around 1:30) I decided to have "just one" and joined him for a glass of whiskey. One promptly turned into two before IrishBird and PumpedUp ushered us out.

Tom was not in the mood to go home; nor was I. I suggested we walk up into the '50s and look for someplace else that was open. We ended up at Manchester Pub, chatting with a "off the boat" Irish bartender named Willy. Nice guy...he works a few places in the neighborhood, so I have to remember to follow up on that. Seven whiskeys later (or so) Tom and I relocated to my place for some "medicine." I urged him not to overdo it. My concerns were completley uncessary, as after just a touch of it, he passed out on my couch. I continued to enjoy myself for a while until about 4:30am when I called Liu in a slightly manic state of mind. While we were on the phone, Narc interrupted via call waiting. He was even more wasted than I was...in a state I've only seen matched the night of the "your life is shit" phone call last month. Anyway, he demanded my presence, but I had the problem of the man passed out on my couch. After some negotiation (mention of the Whitney, brunch at "Bubby's," and a weak attempt on my part to explain that I was not hooking up with man on my couch) I agreed to meet him. I had to literally shake Tom to wake him up and physically support him step by step as we left the building. Back into the blasting wind, I dragged Tom to his hotel, ignoring the stream of drunken phone calls muffled in my pocket. Eyes dialted and fighting cotton mouth, I had to figure out Tom's room number, arrange a wake-up call for him, resist his advances in the elevator and his hotel room (while excusing myself for the bitter taste) and dash into a cab as fast as I could. At least my efforts were rewarded when Tom told me over and over what a "wonderful person" I am. Thanks!

Narc's messages were increasingly paranoid and drunk. I finally picked up once in the cab only to be accused of not really being on my way. The cab driver took the phone and assured him I'd be there in 10 minutes. The details of my evening there are not exactly blog-appropriate, so I'll skip on all that. The important point is that I can't imagine feeling closer to another human being, even though the feeling between us was of an unsustainable intensity that it's difficult to remember even now, just two days later. So far so good... It wasn't until the next morning that anything went wrong.

The next morning (after falling asleep at 8:00 am) I awoke sharply at 9:30, very wired. I tried to entertain myself for a few hours. I gossiped with Hammer for a while, checked my email, drew a picture, wrote in my journal, got dressed, and layed under the covers thinking about "everything and nothing." Finally around 12:00 I decided to try to wake up the snoring log next to me. He refused to budge. I spent the next hour persistintly trying to wake him up until my efforts deteriorated into pleas for him to at least open his eyes and say goodbye to me. The only thing coherent that he mumbled was a request for me to turn on the heater. I was heartbroken. Not only was there no brunch, but there wasn't even a "goodbye, have a nice day." While lacing up my boots his phone rang. It was a woman calling from work (at the UN of all places!) and asking him to explain his drunken 5:00 am phone call to her the night before. Not hard to figure out that he was dating this woman in some capacity. I finally gave up on him, wrote him a furious note (called him an asshole, said he didn't give a shit about me, told him he treats me like a "call girl" and makes me feel worthless...the usual), turned off the heaters hoping he would freeze his ass off, and left. I called him from the cab, telling his machine that he's "not a very nice person" and had succeeded in hurting my feelings, and ran to school to meet Bezukhoff. Once there, Bezukhoff and I ate lunch while I subjected him to more rambling about how much I was hating Narc (or should I say "Raskolnikov"?).

After Bezukhoff walked me home in the snow, I only had a few minutes before having to turn around and get to the West Side to meet B at Lincoln Plaza. We went to see
House of Flying Daggers before dinner at Yin Cheung.

On the way I sent Narc a text:
"On my way to meet friends, but we need to talk soon. I am pretty hurt. Felt very close to u last night but either need to let you go or address this. Please call."

When we got out of the movie, I had two voicemails from him and two texts, apologizing and asking me to call him ASAP. I didn't call back right away, as I was having quality time with B, but after dinner couldn't get it off my mind. B and I parted and I sludged through the snow to LaGuardia High School for BarMan's volleyball game. The game would have been a lot more fun if I weren't running on an hour and a half of sleep and haunted by what had happened. I caved and called him just as the game was beginning. His explanation-- he didn't remember a single thing from the night before (barely even that I had been there). He said I should have dragged him out of bed for brunch...he would have loved to go. I was a little floored by this perfect explanation which both negated my experience of being close to him the previous night while undermining my indignation from that morning. I didn't know what to say and was too exhausted to try. I just muttered something about not knowing what's going on between us and not wanting to get hurt. He suggested that we talk in person (sober for once) and that I go down there for a visit that night. I wasn't sure if I was going to hang out with BarMan and his crew after the game so I asked Narc if we could do it a different night and he said that he couldn't. That if I didn't go there that night, it would be two weeks before I could see him again because he had two upcoming writing deadlines. I said I would call him after the game. I was too wiped to make it through the whole game and just had to come home and shower and think. After my shower I felt better and went to Cheers, slammed down two Jack Daniels and decided to plunge back in to figuring this thing out.

This post is getting WAY too long, so I'm going to finish the story in another day or so...