Disclaimer: I just shot off this post and the next with no editing or spell checking. I'm too tired to do it right now, so forgive any mistake of that nature...
I feel very strange this morning. I have a lot of work to do, but I feel like I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. Last night was a Hyde-miracle: it was a Friday night, but I went to bed early! I guess I just haven't felt like myself since the big flush. I suspect this will pass in another few days, but there's an enormous lump in my stomach. Plus, I haven't been out drinking since Tuesday. I've almost made it through a whole week. Without the excitement, I feel much more tired. Maybe I'm always this tired, but mask it with other things. I guess I should be tired. I missed a whole night of sleep on Tuesay and I slept really poorly on Thursday too. (I was expecting Narc to call, but he didn't...)
This has been a week filled with the Weimar Republic. On Thursday night B and I went to see one of my favorite performers doing a whole night of Kurt Weill at the Carlyle Cafe, and last night Hammer and I went to the Neue Galerie to catch their exhibit on the Comic Grotesque. Both events were fabulous. B and I ran into some of our old-school conflicts though on our night out. The event was supposed to be a "birthday-redo." He wanted to take me out for my birthday in December, but I just wasn't up for it, nor did I have the time. Some of you may recall that things in December were even crazier than they've been the past month or so. Not only was I in the middle of grading, studying for finals and writing papers, but I had that extremely awful incident (which I won't go into) two days before my birthday, and that unpleasant incident in Cheers the following week. Plus, on my actual birthday Narc was such an asshole to me that it prompted me to "try" to break up with him the next day (our "official" breakup came six days later). Bottom line--I wanted to wait to celebrate my birthday until the air cleared and I felt a bit better.
So we went to see Ute Lemper at the Carlyle for her special Thursday night program, "A Walk on the Weill Side." I was so excited! B was a little late to meet me, so I sat and waited in my lobby reading a book. Guess who walked by? 14thFloorBoy! Well, some of you may not know who that is. Basically, he moved into my building (onto the 14th floor) this fall. I met him at Cheers one night and we ended up hooking up. I liked him and pursued it a little bit, but for various reasons I won't go into, it didn't work out. Anyway, I always seem to run into him when I'm in my grungiest moments. Last night, however, I was looking very glamorous, so I was very happy for the encounter. He asked where I was going all dressed up, so I told him about the concert. It gave me an opportunity to talk about what I'm studying in school, music, and other things. Maybe he'll stop thinking I'm such a coke-head. (Not like it matters though...)
We went out for sushi first, which I treated for because the concert was pretty expensive. When we got to the Carlyle, B was a little uncomfortable. It was a pretty swanky place, with jackets required for gentlemen. It was also a very small intimate setting with tables placed closely together and he said that he felt claustrophobic. He said that the waiters kept bumping into him. I, on the other hand, absolutely loved the place. Of course I imagined traveling through time back into the 1920s (which made me remember emptying my "snuff box" that morning. Oh!) Anyway, B had a plethora of other gripes which I don't particularly feel like recounting. The bottom line is that he was complaining a lot. When the check came he got even more upset and without saying anything, put on a show of body language that he was very unhappy. I can't tolerate it when he's unhappy and had been trying to cheer him up the entire time. I held his hand to sooth him and offered to switch seats several times when he looked uncomfortable. None of it worked. I began to get more and more distressed, and less and less able to concentrate on the performance. By the end of the evening, both of us were pretty upset.
We walked outside into the blasting wind to look for a place to get coffee after the show. He complained of being freezing. I pointed out that I was probably colder because I was in a skirt with no stockings. He inisisted that he was colder because he's not "built for this weather" like I am. (He's from a much warmer climate).
"Fine," I said. "So you're the more misearable one. You've had the worse evening. Is there anything else that could possibly be worse? I'm sorry you've had such an awful time!"
Instead of telling me that he didn't have an awful time, he said "that's okay..."
Right about then, I just about lost it. I felt like I never should have asked for anything for my birthday and like I am just an absolute burden to him and to everyone else. I'm sure my upset was compounded by the fact that Narc has been treating me like shit, but I couldn't help it...I just wanted something sweet for my birthday and here I was trying to cater to him the entire night and feeling like shit about myself at the end of it.
I started to cry and tell him that I'm sick of this happening between us all the time.
"Fine," he said. "I think I should just go home."
"Fine!" I said. "Go home!"
I turned to walk in the opposite direction.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"Fuck you! I'm going out."
I think that made him nervous because we had just discussed my new resolution not to drink. It was really hard for me to avoid ordering a drink during the show, and here I was telling him to fuck off because I was going out. I don't know if I was intending to drink. I didn't even think that far ahead. He told me I was being dramatic (hmm...is he channeling Narc? I hate boys who use that as an excuse to invalidate my feelings. I was expressing myself in a very dramatic way, but that doesn't mean that the point I was making wasn't rational!). Anyway, he convinced me to get coffee with him. At that point my teeth were chattering and I was shaking from the cold.
Over coffee, we both calmed down a bit. He told me that even if he was being cranky and hated the whole evening that it's not my responsibility to make him happy. I shouldn't have internalized it like that and judged myself as a failure because he had a bad night. He's right. I do tend to do that and am always trying to please the boys that I'm with. But on the other hand, he should have just sucked it up, stopped acting like a baby and had a good time with me on my birthday-redo! We didn't get very far with the conversation and kind of changed the subject...
By the time I got home that night I was exhausted and fell asleep shortly after midnight. Like I said though, I was expecting a Narc-call (he usually does on Thursday) so I slept lightly all night and kept waking up in the middle of the night. It sucked.
On Friday I got up and went to the ATM only to realize I have just $5.00 in my bank account until a check clears on Tuesday. Shit! Now I regret throwing my money around on drugs and booze last week. I went down to Tribeca to sign up for a boxing class that I'll be starting in two weeks. I think it'll be good for me to do something totally different, and good for my body. Maybe it will help me get out all of my fustration and repressed agression as well. The boxing gym happens to be only two blocks from where Narc lives. I texted him to see if he wanted to get lunch or just say hi, but of course, he completley ignored me and didn't respond. So I walked uptown into the village and found a cafe where I sat and read for a few hours. That evening, Hammer and I met up for the exhibit at Neue Galerie. It was really cool. A lot of the pieces were things that I had seen in my German Modernism class last semester. Plus I have been really into George Grosz for the past few months (still working on finishing his autobiography) and there were a lot of Grosz works there. We browsed the bookstore and had a lot of fun in general. From there we walked over to Third Avenue and found a place for dinner and gossip. I cut my finger on the chair and it was gushing for a while.
We had originally planned to watch a movie or something afterwards, but were both so tired we decided to go home. While I really wanted to come home, part of me was dying to go out. You know that Cheers is right on my corner. When I walked by on the way into my building, it took every ounce of strength that I have to walk past. It's like a magnet for me and I had to resist it's pull. Once I was home, I was glad to be here, but it was still hard. It's so strange...
This morning I woke up depressed. I don't know why. It reminds me of when I was depressed last Saturday. Let's hope today goes better. I have a voice lesson in the early evening (to make up for my Wednesday fuck-up) so that will keep me a little grounded. There's another mystery that's been bothering me though. From Tuesday night when I went out late, my cell phone shows an incoming call from a mysterious number at 1:45 am. Then it shows an outgoing call from my phone to that number at 2:20 am. I have no recollection of this. Then, the next day I got a call from the same number at 11:45 pm, but didn't pick up the phone. The person didn't leave a message. I really want to know who it is! I tried calling the number back from a blocked phone in hopes of getting an answering machine with a name, but a male voice picked up, and I hung up. Hammer is going to try to help me crack the mystery. God damn memory loss! Let's hope I've seen the last of those days.
Ughh...my next door neighbor just knocked on my door and asked if I wanted to go in for a purchase of some weed. Life is a fucking obstacle course!
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