The Unmotivated Blogger (and the Return of Anxious!)

I'm an unmotivated blogger.

I just don't have it in me to write today.

But here's my lame attempt:

On Sunday night, I went with Hammer to hear BHL give a talk at the 92nd Street Y. We saw BigEars there again. The talk was food for thought--thought that hasn't yet congealed enough to attempt to convey it here. Afterwards, we went for coffee at DTUT.

Maybe it was the coffee, but I couldn't sleep on Sunday night. I was depressed. I felt like the old me-- the me of six or seven years ago. Dark and romanticizing the darkness. It didn't feel good, though. It made me anxious. I got into bed at midnight. I don't think I fell asleep until around 3:00 am. My alarm was set to go off at 5:45. When I opened my eyes, it was 7:39.

Shit!

I jumped up, threw on some dirty clothes, threw my makeup in a bag, grabbed my notebook and was off. Luckily I got a cab fast, and luckily there was no traffic. I made it to the school by 8:07. (The class I had to teach started at 8:15).

With that kind of start to the morning, the whole day felt "off." I had a voice lesson after that, but was too tired and scrambled to give it my best effort. Then I took the bus to meet B on the East Side for lunch. I started reading The Life of Pi. So far, so good. B and I ate at Dallas BBQ and I talked to him about all of my ideas from the BHL lecture and from recently seeing Les Mis again on TV and from the Beethoven experience which all seemed to be madly fusing in my mind. I love talking to B.

Back at my place, I moped around for the rest of the afternoon, letting the darkness fall over my apartment without turning on any lights. I was listening to Enya-- Evening Falls. Last week, Narc remarked to me that he would marry any girl who can sing that song on key. What a stupid thing to say! It's not hard to sing on key. I sang it over and over. (Not that I want to marry Narc. I was just thinking about him). I figured out the notes on the piano. I played it over and over, rolling the chords underneath. It's completely tonal with one trick switch from minor to major and then back. I played it and felt it on my fingers and in my throat. The month that I met him back in 2004, he told me that same thing about another song-- Golden Vein by Cocteau Twins-- that he would marry any girl who could sing it. At least that one is a little more difficult to sing (although not beyond any soprano of moderate ability). In any case, looping the Enya song put me into sort of a trance. I felt depressed again. I feel like I'm changing...receding...falling back to an older form of myself. Yes, I'm changing. (If B were here, I'd laugh and quote the Dracula screenplay to him: " I'm changing. I can feel it. I can hear everything. I hear the servants at the other end of the house whispering. I hear mice in the attic stomping like elephants. But I'm having horrible nightmares, Jack. The eyes! Oh, Jack.)

Last night I went to hear BarMan play an open mic set at a place called Back Fence in the West Village. Before heading down there, I talked to NDN about something he had said that bothered me. I hope we've worked it out. Then he got to tell me about finally ending his "dry spell." Congratulations, NDN! He was cooking fish and I tasted it. It was delicious.

When I got to the bar, BarMan and ThursdayGirl were there along with BarMan's roommate, ThursdayGirl's friend K, two college friends of BarMan's, and Anxious and BulgarianGuy (hereupon to be known as Bulgi-- the form of his name I use when talking with Hammer). I wasn't in the mood to be out on the town. I was wearing a green T-shirt and my hair was a bit wild. My eyes were red-rimmed. My nose was running. I felt like a coke head, even though I hadn't done any. On the subway ride down, some guy was staring at me and making me uncomfortable. I listened to New Kids on the Block, hoping it would make me laugh. I have to admit-- I did crack a smile.

At the bar I started drinking double jack and diets (out of pint glasses). I was sitting next to BarMan's roommate and we caught up a bit. I haven't seen him in a while. But it's weird to me that Anxious was there. I don't entirely like having my social circles overlap like that. I haven't seen her in a long time and it was nice to talk, but I would have preferred a one-on-one hang out. She gets strange in public situations-- flipping her hair, pushing up her breasts and talking too loudly about things. She asked me how things are with Narc and I told her that they're not going so well. I was telling her about the strange comment Narc made, asking me about my Valentine's Day plans.

"I hope it's better than last Valentine's Day!" she loudly exclaimed. "No more masturbating in front of your friends, I hope!"

She tossed her head back, pleased with herself. She said it loudly enough that BarMan's roommate could hear. I was then forced to explain, telling him the story and laughing about it as if I thought it were funny and endearing.

"Oh, that's just Narc!" I smiled.

Ah, my dear demented loveable boy! Aren't I a happy one!

I had made a mistake revealing my weakness to Anxious. I should have pretended that everything is great... that Narc is a kind, generous and thoughtful companion...that I couldn't be happier. She made a show of telling me that I "deserve better." Normally, that would be nice coming from a friend, but she said it in a way that was condescending. It was as if she wanted to let everyone at the table know that I'm one of "those girls"-- you know the type... "low self esteem!" Not at all like her with her happy, healthy and fabulous romance with Bulgi.

Ah! If only we could all be a bit more like Anxious!

ThursdayGirl and I have been trying to make plans for a while to go see Brokeback Mountain. When Anxious heard of that, she invited herself along. I really don't want that. Hmm... I'm going to have to figure out how to get out of that one. But I made plans to have lunch with Anxious on Thursday. Like I said-- she's much better one-on-one. She doesn't try to "put on a show" quite as much.

After we left Back Fence, we headed to Swift on E 4th street. It was just me, BarMan, ThursdayGirl, Anxious and Bulgi at that point. I ate a hot dog. I was drunk. And still, I was depressed. I don' t know why. I just felt emptied... emptied of everything. Empty, empty, empty. A shell of a Hyde.

BarMan and ThursdayGirl left at around 2:00 am and Anxious and Bulgi started making out at the bar. Ew! I didn't need to see that! Time to make an exit.

Today I'm blue again. Blue and unmotivated. I cleaned my house a considerable amount and watched a lot of crap TV. My friend Singrl is in from out of town and I haven't seen her in FOREVER! We used to be very close in college, but now I only talk to her every once in a while. I haven't seen her in a year and a half. Singrl! She first introduced me to coke when I was 19 and we used to have long intense talks laying on her dorm room floor until all hours of the night. (We were both self-cutters and I had never known anyone else like that, so I felt really close to her.) Anyway, she's here with her boyfriend. He bought her tickets to Julie Taymor's production of The Magic Flute at the Met for her birthday. I'm going to meet them for coffee in an hour or so.

That's it for now. I guess for an unmotivated blogger, I still wrote a decent length post. I guess it takes more than depression to keep Hyde concise!

-h-

Excision is Necessary

The wisdom of the Wizard: A Mack truck is a Mack truck. There's nothing wrong with that. It does what a Mack truck does. Just don't stand in it's way!

Resolution: Start the excision. Stop talking/thinking/writing so much about Narc. The project begins! (Again!)

But before I begin, let me tell you what went down this weekend And in the spirit of excision, I will try my best to keep it relatively brief.

On Friday afternoon, after teaching all day, having been awake since 6:00 am, I was sitting in my office, drafting my last post, Babies and Black Hair. My cell phone rang. It was Narc calling from his home phone. At 2:00 in the afternoon? WTF?!?!?!

I answered.

"Hey!"

"Hyde, I'm dyyyyying!" he groaned.

"What? What's going on over there?" I laughed.

"I'm dying, Hyde! Dyyyyyyying!"

"Why are you dying?"

"Ugh! Out with James last night. We were up til all hours."

"Uh oh! A James night? Did you coke up?"

"No, but we were up til 6:00 or 7:00 anyway."

"That's no good," I laughed kind of awkwardly. "Well, I've been up working today. Back to school!"

"I want to order a pizza," he said. "A pizza with pepperoni. I know it's not vegetarian, but that's okay. I can cheat this time because I'm dying!"

"Oh, no! Well, is there anything I can do to prevent any further dying?" I asked. "It sounds like a dire circumstance!"

"Yeah... You could come down here and _______ and _________ and then ______..."

(I leave it to your imagination, but you get the point.)

"Well, I'm at my office now, Narc. And I would have to go home first. And I don't have money for cabs. So there's no way I could be there til 4:00 pm the absolute earliest."

"4:00 pm? I don't know if the pizza can wait that long, even if I can wait."

"Well, you could always eat and then save me a slice."

"Just hurry, okay?"

"Yeah."

"Hurry!"

(Now I know you may think it's strange that I was eager to run to him "on call" like that, but we have a particular sexual dynamic, and I was excited about it. It doesn't bother me. It's not the part of this whole thing that I have trouble with.)

So, I did hurry. I raced out of there and took the bus home. Then, while on the phone with Hammer, I shaved, packed my bags and fed my cat. I had to ride the subway down near to rush hour, which was unpleasant. I made it to him by 4:39.

Anyway, you can imagine what our hangout was like. The usual-- television and sex. He fell asleep on the couch and I lay with my head on his stomach watching Les Mis on TV. At one point, he wanted Ben & Jerry's, so I volunteerd to go to the deli to get him some. He talked about PopStarChick a lot. A LOT. A HELL of a lot! Why?

Why? Hammer asked me.

I don't know. Dense, cruel, or simply doesn't care...

For a while we were talking about his parents and how they met. It's astounding to me how little he knows about his family and how isolated he was as a child in some respects. Then, later at one point we were talking about drinking and he started telling me the story of a girl who got wasted during his trip to Europe.

"We were in Greece," he said. "And I was walking back to the hotel and saw her passed out on the beach and she was all shivering and stuff."

"What did you do?"

"Well, I helped her up. I was drunk too, so I didn't know where her room was, so I brought her back to mine. We had two beds. Obviously I wasn't with her or anything. But the next morning she was like 'did we...?' 'No!' I told her. I'm not going to fuck a passed out woman!"

"Right."

"But that other girl, V wouldn't talk to me after that. I slept with her the first week of the trip, and I guess she thought I slept with the passed out girl too and was pissed about it."

What???

Wait-- WHAT????

Ever since the fall of '04, he's been throwing it up in my face that he hasn't slept with anyone else but me since he's met me! And even if he DID sleep with some girl in Europe, why is he telling me about it now? Is he trying to be mean?

I didn't say anything.

Later he asked me whether or not I have plans for Valentine's Day.

"No, I don't have any plans," I said. "What about you?"

"Nope. No plans. I've never had a date for Valentine's," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I've never been dating anyone and had a Valentine's Day fall in there."

Oh, yeah. That's right. We're "not in a relationship."

"We were together last Valentine's Day," I said. "Do you remember? We went to Waikiki Wallys."

"We did?"

"Yeah! Remember? We watched 24 at my place and then we went to Cheers and there was no one there. BarMan waited on us, remember? Then we walked up to Opal and it was raining. And then you got a craving for something they only have a Waikiki Wally's and you convinced me to go down with you."

"One of those coconut drinks?"

"No. You wanted their tuna sashimi appetizer, remember?"

"How do you remember everything, Hyde?"

"I don't know. But that was the weekend we hung out with Anxious at Manchester and they opened the Gates project."

"They must have lost so much money on that project," he said.

That was the day you masturbated in front of Anxious! I didn't say.

"So... well... why don't we go on a Valentine's Day date?" I suggested meekly.

(I mean, wasn't that what he was leading to anyway? Why couldn't he just ask me?)

"Um, yeah, sure... I mean, what day is Valentine's anyway?" he asked.

"I think it's on a Tuesday this year."

"Um, yeah, so we'll see..." And then he kind of changed the subject.

I was confused. Did he just want to raise my expectations without making a plan or an agreement?

Later, after we had gotten into bed and had sex, laying there in the dark, I ventured to bring it up again.

"So do you want to hang out on Valentine's, Narc?"

"Um, yeah... Sure, I guess... I'll check my calendar in the morning," he said.

That was it.

The next morning we woke up and Narc cleaned up the house a bit before we headed for brunch. I had to charge the meal because I was low on cash.

"I'm low on cash too," he said. "But I can go to the ATM and give you something back."

"Okay."

(He never did).

I don't really feel like going into everything about the opera. It was weird though. I felt like we didn't have things to talk about.

At one point in Act II, Dorabella sings: Qual vuoi sceglier per te de' due Narcisi?

(It roughly translates into something about choosing between two Narcissists. I winced. I wondered if he noticed.)

After the opera, we were waiting for the elevators.

"So, what are you up to now?" I asked.

"Well, you know I have plans with CouchSleeper tonight," he began. "I'm not sure when he's free, but he said he'd call me between 5:00 and 5:30."

I looked at my watch. It was 5:20.

"We're supposed to meet in the West Village, so I guess I'll just walk down there."

"You're going to walk all the way to the West Village?"

"Yeah! It'll be good to get some air."

I didn't say anything. It was clear he wasn't going to ask me along. I wondered if we would go get some coffee or something before he had to go. After all, CouchSleeper hadn't called yet.

We exited onto the plaza and walked past the majestic fountain. Neither of us said much.

"So... I'm turning South here," he said, as we approached 9th avenue.

"Um, okay..."

"You're meeting Hammer tonight, right?"

"I don't know. I mean, I guess I'll just take the bus home."

"Okay. Well, thanks for the opera," he said. "It was lovely."

(Was he really going to ditch me just like that?)

He gave me a hug. "See you soon."

He walked away. I was dumbfounded.

No coffee? No glass of wine? No walk to the bus stop (a few feet away)? I felt my face and my chest growing numb. I fumbled for a cigarette, still rooted to the spot on the sidewalk. I watched him disappearing, his long black coat swaying, his gait shifting from side to side. And then he was gone. I could NOT BELIEVE IT. (Although no one else that I know seems to be too surprised.) I finished the cigarette, the emptying theater crowds swirling around me, past me. I felt dizzy. The sky was dimming. I lit a second cigarette and started to walk. I sent B a text:

I am so stupid, I wrote.

I called Hammer and told her what happened.

"Oh no, Hyde! Why don't you come over here?" (She was nearby at the Wizard's place).

I went over there, a tear or two escaped down my cheek. I couldn't feel anything except for the burn of the cigarette smoke on my tounge. I chewed on my lip. I was numb.

Hammer and the Wizard greeted me with hugs. I sat down at his dining table and we talked for a while. The bottom line-- they both agreed that this is eroding me... draining me. They're right. But it's hard when you love someone to let go of it. (I guess that's stating the obvious, but still...)

Hammer's Hand
After a really long talk, the Wizard had to get back to work (studying for his orals). Hammer and I went over to the Time Warner Center where she bought a shirt in Esprit, and then we got dinner at the sushi bar at Whole Foods. We couldn't quite decide what to do after that, so we just headed back to Hammer's house to hang out. We had a great time just being bums, smoking weed (nice rolling Hammer!) and watching SNL. We drank some 40's and I gave us tattoos using my liquid eyeliner and her Sephora eye slicks. Hammer made us some gruyere quesadillas. At around 2:00, she was falling asleep and I was high enough. Time to go home.

Hyde's arm

But I didn't go home. (You guys know me well enough by now!) I went to Cheers. I was so fucking stoned. I found myself unable to tear my eyes from whatever basketball game was on TV, the bottles swaying behind the bar.

"Hyde, what's that on your arm?" PumpedUp laughed.

"Tell me you didn't!" "Don't worry... I didn't! It's just eyeliner."

Nothing much happened at Cheers. I drank six drinks and blew off an airline piolet who was too drunk to seem coherent, (even in my stoned state).

At the end of the night, I went to tell IrishBird what had happened that afternoon at the opera.

"Can you believe it's been a year since our last attempt at the opera!" I exclaimed. "Do you remember I called you from the plaza that day?"

"I remember, Hyde. Stop doing this to yourself."

I told her how he had called me to his place on Friday afternoon and how I had gone running. I told her how I had paid his tab last week at the bar, paid for brunch, paid for the opera and never even gotten a birthday card. FightingMensch was sitting nearby and I suddenly realized he could hear me. He got upset and walked away. I was embarrassed.

So, I went home. It was nearly 5:00 am.

What can I say?

Excision is necessary. But surgery hurts.

Babies and Black Hair

I wrote this on Friday afternoon, but was interrupted by a phone call from Narc, so I didn't get to finish it or post it until now... (-Hyde- 1/29/06)

********************

I've been unsettled. Well, I suppose if you read this blog, that's fairly obvious. Unsettled... What does that even mean? When was the last time I was settled? I don't even know anymore (May, 2004). But I've been thinking about my hair color a lot. And I've been thinking about babies... mine, GoldenFinch's and VJ's.

Babies:

Mine: A few weeks from now I would have had a baby. Would have... There are no thoughts in my head on that matter-- only a dull strange feeling in my chest that wants to become a thought, but won't. I'm numb and blank. Each time that thought tries to poke its head up, like a tulip through the earth, it grows terrified of the magnitude that's revealed and it retreats back into my heart. I saw some bunches of tulips outside a deli on the Upper West Side the other day. I was surprised. Tulips in January? Oh yeah... I guess there are winter tulips. Suddenly I feel like I can't breath.

GoldenFinch's: GoldenFinch found out she was pregnant about a month after I did. I spoke to her last week and all she can talk about is baby names. I haven't seen her since July, although she's due in April. She must look pregnant, although I can't picture it. When I met GoldenFinch, we were 17. (Actually, I guess she was 18). She wanted to be a nun and move to a mountain-top and sing to God and the universe and write in her journal and dance in the fields and peel potatoes and shell peas all day long. Things have changed since then. I was supposed to go out and visit her this week, but I never made the arrangements. She lives about two hours out of Manhattan. Every time I talk to her on the phone she's tired. She said it's the pregnancy. I feel like I'm a bad friend for not visiting her. Her mother and sister are in Washington DC or Maryland or something... She doesn't have a best friend where she is. But something in me doesn't want to go. Uh oh. Suddenly, I feel like I can't breathe again.

VJ's: VJ's baby is a hypothetical. It doesn't exist, but she wants to have one. She recently decided that she's going to start trying for one with her boyfriend. I think she's lost her mind. (VJ--if you're reading this, sorry for putting it so bluntly, but I already told you I think you need to think about this a lot more). I've also known VJ for ten years. She is one of the funniest people I know. When we met were both smart, outlandish and perpetually pissed off at the world (and at our sorority). It as the perfect formula to sprout a slew of strange inside jokes, the catalyst for adventures that have irrevocably changed me. VJ is amazing with kids--better than anyone I've ever seen. She will be a wonderful mother one day. I'm worried about her though. I think she's lonely. I don't think she should etch this moment of loneliness in stone with a baby. Of course, I'm not certain, as I don't have one, but I'm rather sure that life gets a lot less flexible when there's a baby around. And VJ and I are both sorely unfinished projects. We need as much flexibility as possible. Does that make any sense?

Ughhh... I can't think about babies anymore, and yet I can't stop thinking about them right now. I used to love to look at babies. I wanted one desperately. I still want one eventually. In fact, it's one of the only three goals I have for my life-- love, babies and a house on the water. But now when I think of them, again-- I can't breathe. There's no other way to describe it.

Black Hair:

In May, I dyed my hair black.

It was black, black, black! I wrote. Stark raven black! I'm ready to kick ass. No more heartbreak. No more whining and pining. I'm a new woman!

That weekend I met Narc and CouchSleeper at the Tavern.

Narc and CouchSleeper both commented on my dark hair, asking why I dyed it black. Well, I was still in truth-telling mode, so I decided to be plain.

"Because I have a fucking broken heart, that's why!" I told them. "And I needed a change. And I'm not going to take anyone's shit anymore."

Well, that was all true. But this week, when I made my resolution to end things with Narc, I suddenly no longer wanted to have black hair. (Speaking of my resolution. I know it seems like I've tossed it aside. Especially as I have plans to go to the opera tomorrow with him-- my tickets, not his. But I haven't. I haven't forgotten it. I just haven't figured out how to do it yet. The resolve is still there, but I have no action to match it. I don't know if that makes sense to anyone except for me.) Anyway, I didn't want black hair anymore.

My natural hair color is a medium brown with a reddish tint. Since I was sixteen, I've been dying it some shade of red/reddish brown (save for a year with B when it was black and the past 8 months it's been black right now). I wanted to look like myself again-- my red headed self. When I first met Narc, my hair was a lighter red than usual. Our hair used to blend in the hair brush. It still strikes me as strange to see black hair in the hair brush.

There was no time to waste! There was an action I could take! Yes, a clear path, straight ahead! Finally something within my control! Change yourself, Hyde! You have agency! Go to the drug store! Buy a box of color! Do it now! Quit hemming and hawing! Remake yourself! Reinvent! Redo! Redefine! You are in control!

Yes, it was urgent. Very, very urgent. On Wednesday I bought the color. I chose a medium-light brown, figuring it would come out reddish just from the lightening. I eagerly tore into the box in my bathroom. Chemical to chemical...shake, apply. Wait. Forty minutes. Longer than recommended. Rinse, condition, blow dry, check.....

BLACK.

My hair was still black.

This, I would not stand for. No! Not one bit. It wasn't fair! I HAD to fix it.

Back to the drug store. This time I selected a hair color DESIGNED to go over black hair. Guaranteed change! It was a major-lightener. No fucking around with the "natural" or "modest" stuff.

Back to my bathroom. Chemical to chemical...shake, apply, wait. Forty minutes. Tick, tick, tick. I was talking to NDN. He was sitting on my floor, I was sitting on the toilet lid, trying to keep my cat from jumping up on the sink. Again, I left it on for longer than recommended. Rinse, condition, blow dry, check......

BLACK.

So, my hair wouldn't change. Well, actually, this time the roots changed. I now had reddish blonde roots merging into stark black ends. A total mess!

I decided that I had to put matters into professional hands. I made an appointment to have it double processed the next day.

Sitting under the glowing lights of the hair salon, draped in a black robe, three people ran their fingers through my hair. They pulled out individual strands, inspecting, feeling, consulting. One of them used to be a regular at Cheers. It was funny to have her working on me now.

"We could strip it," she said, "but I don't know if your hair can take it. We'd have to do some test strands first. I don't want your hair to break."

"I don't want my hair to break either!" Now I was worried. "If there's a possibility of ruining my hair, don't bother stripping it at all!"

"Well, we could just re-darken your roots and put in a half head of highlights," she said. "That would start to redden it again and soften it up a bit. Then you can come back in two months for some more and do it gradually."

"Okay. Let's go with that."

4 hours and an exorbitant amount of money later, it was time for the big reveal. But there I sat-- dark headed. Yes, there was a slightly reddish tint, but it crowned a head of hair that was still very, very black. (Plus she cut it an inch or two shorter than I would have liked. I'm always trying to grow it long, long, long!)

So, the moral of the story? I'm not quite sure, but I feel like it's symbolic. I feel like my hair-troubles are somehow a metaphor for something much larger. It's telling me that there are no easy fixes and that I have to be patient. That I can't affect change with a magic wand. That I don't have total control, but that I have some control and that I have to work with what I have.

Anyway, since I wrote this, a lot has happened. Nothing that will surprise you all. Just more disappointment from Narc. But I'll post about that later. I simply don't have the stomach for it right now.

-H-

For Hammer's Bday: A Post About BHL

Although I woke up this morning with eyes as red as my lipstick, I feel good today. I was dreading the "back to work" day all week long, but it's refreshing to have somewhere that I'm required to be. I like it. And I really do appreciate the clean start that each new semester brings. (That is, if I don't think about my incompletes!)

Last night was interesting. (Before I ended up at Cheers, of course. Cheers is rather uninteresting by now, n'est pas?) Hammer is a member of French Tuesdays,* the sponsor of last night's party to be attended by Hammer's mega-crush, pop-philosopher Bernard Henri Levy. (He's in NY doing a book tour for his new book, American Vertigo.) I agreed to meet Hammer at 8:00. The attire? Business-chic, whatever that means!

BHL
Last night it was freezing out. It was the kind of cold that bites at the cheeks until everything is reddened and burned. I took the bus across town to the Bryant Park Hotel. Hammer got us through the proverbial velvet ropes, from where we were ushered into the Cellar Bar-- a room full of suits, skirts, clinking glasses, corsetted waitresses, and a very strange vibe. It's hard for me to describe the crowd. It was a kind of NY Euro-wannabee business-sophisticate set. Totally different from the academics I hang out with by day and the ex-frat boys I hang out with by night.

As we were laying our coats in the corner, someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Lindsay-- a girl that goes to school with us. She was there with a friend of hers. For some reason, I always feel awkward with Lindsay. I can't quite get a read on her. The four of us made some stiff conversation before Hammer and I elbowed our way to the bar. We ordered my old favorite (pre-whiskey Hyde!)-- Kettle One, Chambourd and lime. Then we settled down to people-watch.

Dombasle
Hammer and I agreed-- the crowd enjoyed "being seen" to a greater extent than the party itself. We laughed about an old subject (Email Follies!), while watching the comings and goings of a former acquaintance of Hammer's-- BigEars. Finally, BHL himself appeared. Hammer was fascinated by the somewhat strange look of his wife, Arielle Dombasle. BHL and Dombasle were up in a "special section" of the bar, so it was hard to see what was going on. Everyone was doting on them. He's definitely Hammer's type-- fascinating!

We didn't stick around all that long, instead deciding to look for a pub or a place to get a bite to eat. There's not much in that area though, so we braced ourselves against the wind and marched into Times Square. (Timesy!) For a moment we contemplated going into the ESPN Zone as an ironic counterpoint to our French Tuesday's experience, but then I spotted the Paramount Hotel across the street and suggested that instead. I mentioned to Hammer that I had been at the Paramount bar with Narc, the night of the Wizard's dinner party back in May. She remarked that she used to hang out there and that she and Narc must have the same taste in bars.

But, uh oh! We swung down the wrong side street for the entrance, and it was so cold that we never got there! Instead, we ducked into McDonald's where we gossiped for a while and Hammer taught me how to do sodoku puzzles. There were some strange characters to be found in a Times Square McDonalds, such as a Snoop-Dogg poseur in a long brown fur coat and a fake Louis Vuitton hat. He was spotted checking out another fur-clad McDonald's customer-- an over-tanned girl (to the point of being orange!) in a fluffy white fur.

Finally, we agreed that it was time to head home. I waited in the bitter cold near Port Authority for what seemed like an eternity before I caught sight of the lights of the bus snaking its way across 42nd street.

On foot, heading towards my door, I caught a glimpse of ThursdayGirl through the window of Cheers. She and BarMan have been in the Dominican Republic all week, so I decided to pop in and see how their trip was. Of course, I got sucked into staying longer than I should have. It was strange-- I had about seven drinks, but wasn't really drunk at all. (Maybe because it was vodka and not whiskey... who knows.) Anyway, at around 12:30, I forced myself out of there (partially because I didn't want to deal with making conversation with MarriedGuy and there weren't that many people at the bar) and I got myself to bed. While I was falling asleep, I played my TiVo'd Daily Show, and guess who was the guest? That's right! BHL! And he was wearing the same outfit as I had just seen him in. Funny...

This morning I woke up at 6:00 am and set off for my office where I've been writing syllabi and making photocopies ever since.

All of that said, I have had a lot on my mind to blog about-- first and foremost my Beethoven experience, but all of that seems to have been usurped by the emotional roller coaster posts about what I've been through in my mind in terms of N over the past few days. Perhaps I'll finally get to the Beethoven today.

While Fridays are going to be a killer for me this semester, on the first day of class, I never hold my students for the entire period, so today I have a little extra time on my hands, waiting for the next class to begin.

Anyway, that's it for now...

Hope you're all enjoying the day!

:)

h

*French Tuesdays' stated philosophy:

If you have a particular taste for Champagne, enjoy dancing to eclectic music, being surrounded by an elegant and international crowd, and like French savoir-vivre... You will love our happy and hip gatherings, that take place in the trendiest venues of New York and Miami. Every other Tuesday, from 7pm to 1am, we invite our members for an evening of fun, dance, Champagne and fine food, spiced up with a twist of French flair and heavy accents.

Broken Wing

First Off:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY HAMMER!!!!!

(And Happy 250th Birthday, Mozart!)

Tonight was strange. I went from Bernard Henri Levy to McDonalds. Then to Cheers. IrishBird took the microphone.

"This is dedicated to a sweet girl," she said. "This is dedicated to my dear friend Hyde."

I looked up skeptically.

"This is dedicated to my dear friend Hyde and her boy-- Narc."

Uh oh...

She sang "Broken Wing" by Martina McBride. (I would link to the song, but my computer is giving me issues.) Anyway, here are the words:

She loved like he was the last man on earth.
Gave him everything she ever had.
He'd break her spirit down, then come lovin' up on her.
Give a little, then take it back.

She'd tell him about her dreams - he'd just shoot 'em down.
Lord, he loved to make her cry.
"You're crazy for believin' you'll ever leave the ground."
He said "Only angels know how to fly."

And with a broken wing, she still sings.
She keeps an eye on the sky.
With a Broken wing, she carries her dreams.
Man, you ought to see her fly.

One Sunday mornin', she didn't go to church.
He wondered why she didn't leave.
He went up to her bedroom.
Found a note by the window,
With the curtains blowin' in the breeze,

And with a broken wing, she still sings.
She keeps an eye on the sky.
With a broken wing, she carries her dreams.
Man, you ought to See her fly.

With a broken wing,
She carries her dreams.
Man, you ought to see her fly.

(With a broken wing. Oooooh)

Anyway-- I cried. I cried hard. But I was confused about what was going on in the song. Does the girl kill herself? Or does she run away and leave her man? Thoughts?

A few drinks later, I looked around at my company-- BulgarianGuy to one side, MarriedGuy to the left. I had fucked them both. Time to go home...

I have to wake up in five hours. Tomorrow is my first day for the new semester.

Beginnings anyone?

-H-

In Love with Pain

Want to Buy Some Illusions?

Want to buy some illusions?
Slightly used, second hand.
They were lovely illusions--
Reaching high, built on sand.

They had a touch of paradise.
The spell you can't explain.
For in this crazy paradise,
You are in love with pain.

Want to buy some illusions?
Slightly used, almost new.
Such romantic illusions!
And they're all just for you!

I sell them all for a penny.
They make pretty souvenirs.
Take my lovely illusions--
Some for laughs, some for tears.


Music and Lyrics: Friedrich Hollaender
Performance: Ute Lemper

Perpetual Confusion

You guys are all going to laugh at me after all the drama that I've made, but here it goes...

Yes, I've been in touch with Narc.
No, I haven't changed my mind about the need to end things.

(But what are you doing about it, Hyde?
Damn it... I'm not very good at all of this, am I?)

Let's backtrack:

On Monday night he sent me a text: How was Beethoven?

I resisted answering for 24 hours. On Tuesday night I was depressed. I was very, very, depressed. I limpidly dragged myself over to Cheers where I sat, scowling, in the corner, chugging Jack Daniels and furiously working on my needlepoint. I was not in the mood to be sociable.

Four drinks later, I wrote to him.

Beethoven was ECSTATIC! Top 10 experiences of my life. How was martial arts no.1?

He answered almost immediately:

Bruce Lee was hardcore combat, which was great. Tai Chi/Kung Fu was OK, but a bit awkward for me. Very different. Ninjas on Thursday!

I wrote again:

You'll have to let me know how it goes! As for me-- going to an event Thurs night for Jess' bday. Then start teaching Friday. Yuck. No more vacation!

No response.

For the rest of the evening, I coaxed myself out of my mood with alcohol and then started talking to a really fucked up guy-- half Brazilian, half French, he was a self-proclaimed right wing French Nationalist who wanted to move to Monte Carlo to minimize his exposure to poor people and ugly people. He was wasted beyond belief and hitting on me. I couldn't stand him. I had on a thick peacock eye shadow and a black and gold scarf in my hair.

"You look very Missoni!" he said. "I love it!"

I thought he was a prick and devoted myself to embarrassing him by exposing his intellectual inferiority.

Anyway, that was my night. I came home drunk, but not so drunk that I forgot to take off my makeup before bed. All in all, not bad.

This morning I woke up early and had to head to the Upper West Side for a mini concert. My choir was doing a "lunchtime" concert-- a few of our Christmas concert pieces in order to keep the space we rehearse in.

Before I went, I checked my email. Shockingly, he had sent me a message! He wrote:

Well, looks like your mermaid movie, complete with Josh Grobin music and all, didn't screen test too well last night. Poor Shyamalan--after "The Sixth Sense", it's just been nothing but a downhill slide...

http://www.aintitcool.com/display.cgi?id=22290

-Narc

(For those of you who don't know-- I'm obesessed with mermaids). I wrote back:

:(

That sounds like the strangest plot ever. I'm not sure I understood what was going on half the time. But, whatever... It's a mermaid movie, so I have to see it!

(Maybe your penguins will be better...)

-Hyde

So it was off to my concert. Afterwards, I had a few hours to kill before my voice lesson, but I didn't want to come back to the East Side only to head West again an hour later. So I ate lunch, finished Beware of Pity (a book I was reading based on Narc's recommendation), and brought my needlepoint to Starbucks. The ending struck me. It was sad. So, as I finished the book, I texted him again:

Just finished the book. I can't believe it! :(

He wrote back right away:

Couldn't have ended any other way! Having a German lunch now.

(That German restaurant is the same place he was eating at on Sunday night when he texted PopStarChick "Wish you were here.")

I answered:

Yeah, but a girl can hope! You at the same place? Do they have your dessert this time?

He didn't respond.

My voice lesson was mediocre. I've been so fatigued that I was very low energy in the lesson. It was hard not to wobble on the low register break and I was too heavy on the high-- my voice just wouldn't flip into the loft voice. Grrr....

I went on with my day. I came home and tried to dye my hair. Unfortunately, as it's been dyed black for nine months now, it was too stubborn to lighten and I think I'm going to have to have it professionally done if I want it to be anything other than black. I watched some Boston Legal on TV and decided I have a crush on James Spader. Then I bummed around with NDN for the rest of the evening.

A while back, I had mentioned to Narc that I have opera tickets for Saturday-- a matinee performance of Mozart's Cosi Fan Tutti. Well, he texted me about it this evening:

Ah, the Mozart... Sure thing! Meeting CouchSleeper at 5:30 on Sat. but should be ok. Call later.

Huh?

Well, call later he did. I just got off the phone with him after about half an hour of debriefing about the past few days.

So I'm pretty crazy and fucked up. And I must seem like a total hypocrite.

I don't know...

All I know, anymore, is this--

I'm not going out drinking tonight. I'm going to get on my exercise bike in the morning and eat better tomorrow. And I need to stop having sex with people I can't trust.

Why am I perpetually confused?

-h-

Weakness? Whiskey? Or Love?

Hmm...

Last night: I texted. He texted back. I texted again. No reply.

This morning: He sent me an email. I replied.

Details to follow...

Update

I threw away the ice cream. It hurt. But I couldn't part with the flower lay. So I put it in my "memory box."

I don't like this. And I'm not sure I want to go through with it. We'll see... (Yes, I need to reassure myself that I can always change my mind!)

Right now I'm cleaning my house and listening to Jesus Christ Superstar. It's making me think of VJ and her "whip dance." (How many years have passed since then? I miss our adventures!)

It's the strangest thing-- I've been through an emotional rollercoaster over the past few days, while he still has no idea that anything has changed.

(Has it?)

-h-

Day Two

It's day two and I'm anxious.

My first moment of weakness came about four hours after I made my decision to cut him off. I was on my way to my voice lesson at about 2:00 pm. He had signed up for a new martial arts class. I wanted to write to him.

Good luck with the class! I was going to say.

I resisted.

My voice lesson was mediocre. I had low energy levels so the lower register of my voice wasn't as resonant.

Usually when I leave his place I bend over and kiss him goodbye.

"I'll see you soon!" I tell him in his sleep.

He mumbles something in reply.

Yesterday I didn't say goodbye.

When we're in a fight, I usually leave a dramatic note.

Yesterday I didn't leave a note.

He must have sensed that I moved an inch out of his orbit.

I had my concert last night. He sent me a text.

How was Beethoven? He wrote.

I didn't answer. But I was anxious.

This morning I woke up feeling nauseated, roiling in second thoughts. But I just got off the phone with my therapist. As I was placing down the receiver, I felt reassured-- strong. But that was five minutes ago. Now, again (so soon?), there is a flutter in my stomach and I fear I will lose all resolve.

I'm going to try to put it out of my mind for the next few hours.

You guys, how am I going to do this? Am I sure I even want to? I don't know anything anymore...

-ambivalent h-

If At First You Don't Succeed...

Resolution: It's OVER with Narc.

I don't want to write about Narc right now.
I don't want to think about Narc right now.

But I do want to end it with Narc.

Perhaps in future posts I will explain why. For now, all I have to say is this:

Saturday night was a catastrophe. He proved that he doesn't appreciate me and doesn't respect me beyond all shadow of a doubt.

Then, last night, foolish girl that I am, I went running to him again. I spent the night there last night, but made a discovery this morning that slapped me in the face. (Surprised? No. Hurt? Yes.)

I realized that this can go on forever. The only thing to do is to white-knuckle it and grow up a little and somehow get past him. I'm not sure how I'm going to do it though. I'm not sure how I'm going to feel when he calls, because I know that he will. I left this morning without saying a word. He doesn't know how I feel right now.

But at least I know step # 1 of my plan:

• Erase all saved messages from him (About 40 between my cell phone and my land line).
• Erase all saved text messages to and from him.
• Throw away his 8-month old ice cream sitting in the freezer.
• Throw away the Hawaiian lay he gave me last February from Waikiki Wally's (It's the only thing he's ever given me, and it was free!)
• Clean my house, stock up on groceries and start treating myself with a little more respect.

And here's what I'm going to say to him, should he keep calling:

Off the radar whilst seeking appreciation elsewhere. Be well.

(Some of you may recall the text message that sent me into a tail spin--the one he sent me last March: "Off the alcohol and the radar whilst continuing to write and get in shape for the shoot. Am seeing someone. Won't be able to see you for a while. Be well." Needless to say, he was not off the alcohol nor off the radar, nor did he get in shape, nor did any "shoot" take place. Who was he seeing? The Exhibitionist, for about two weeks!)

Anyway, my mind is in a fragile place right now. I don't want to lose myself to reminiscing. After all, I all too easily let my anger slip away. I need to hold on to that anger now, tighter than ever before. I need to stay motivated.

I'm not sure how I am going to do it. I'm not sure what makes me even think that I can do it. I only know that I don't hate myself as much as my behavior indicates. And I don't want to be treated this way anymore...

-A Frightened Hyde-

This One's for the Boys: Part IV

I feel like this post is never ending! I need to try to cure myself of blogging in obsessive detail. Honestly, I'm sick of writing about last weekend already. And this is going to be my last MEGA-Post for a while. But here we go with the end of my story from last weekend!

The Date:

It was raining out that night and I was irritated because I knew my hair would curl up in all sorts of directions, but there was not much I could do about it. After parting ways with Narc, I came home and changed. Narc sent me a text that he had found a book to read. I wrote him back that I was depressed and didn't want to go out.

Go! Have fun! came his reply.

Grrr... So I was going.

Before heading to my date, I made a pit-stop at Cheers.

"What's up, Hyde?" BarMan asked.

"I have a date tonight!" I announced, sliding into a seat. "And not with Narc!"

Somehow this led into a conversation with the gentleman next to me, a guy named Gabriel-- the brother of a girl BarMan used to date.

"I have to ask," he began. "Is drinking before a date typical behavior for the fairer sex?"

"Hmm... I can't say that my drinking habits are reflective of my gender in general," I smiled. "But it's typical for me."

"Ah. You're one of those? Me too!" he laughed.

He was really funny and we had a great talk about relationships and life. I asked him for a piece of advice, or life wisdom, if you will. Here's what he told me:

Any time you walk into a room ,stop and smile. Then walk in.

I really didn't want to leave for my date. But I had finished off three Jack Daniels and the witching hour was approaching. So I said goodbye to him and hopped in a cab headed for the West Side.

When I got to the chosen restaurant, Double-T was waiting for me at the counter in the front room. We awkwardly said hello and then we moved to the back room to be seated.

Dinner conversation went fine. We both knew how to talk about ourselves and how to ask appropriate questions of the other, but I found that I didn't really care about what he was saying as he spoke, and instead, I just felt a cloud of gloom still resting on my shoulders. To make matters worse, it's hard for me to have three drinks and then stop. I could feel the effects of the whisky wearing off and it gave me a throbbing headache.

Still, there was nothing I could complain about. He was a sweet and polite guy-- a little dorky, practical and "open" for my taste, but that's okay. After dinner he suggested we go for drinks. He was strongly pushing to come back to Cheers. I said I didn't think it was a good idea as it's rather loud in there on Saturday nights. To tell you the truth, I didn't want to bring him back to my neighborhood because I didn't want to feel obligated to stay out for longer than a drink or two. When he kept pressing the issue, I got suspicious that he wanted to come back here just to be able to get me in my apartment.

I insisted on staying where we were, so we chose a pub nearby. He seemed disappointed that I wasn't up for a night of partying, but I was so emotionally spent from the earlier events of the day. On the way into the pub, he realized he had to go to the ATM. I told him I would wait for him inside, as it was freezing out.

"Don't go home with anyone else!" he laughed.

"I won't!"

I thought that was a strange thing to say.

Inside the bar, we chose seats in the upstairs area away from the crowd. It was a restaurant area and well lit, although it was pretty empty at that point, as it was around 11:00 pm. Again, our conversation was okay, but unimpressive. He told me that he doesn't like musicals, which was alarming to me since I LOVE musicals, and we got into a whole discussion of art and realism and suspension of disbelief, etc.

Then, at a very odd moment, he just took my hand in the two of his. I can't say I wanted it there, but I didn't pull away. I guess he took that as a sign because the next thing I knew, he was coming in to kiss me. I'm sorry-- I've never been kissed in public by a stranger unless there was some major chemistry or some major alcohol flowing. I was totally Jekyll when he made his move, and Jekyll does NOT do that kind of thing. Nevertheless, Jekyll has trouble saying "no" to people, so I didn't resist it either.

The kiss was a strange thing. He came in with a closed mouth. Does anyone kiss with a closed mouth? I've never heard of such a thing! I mean, a kiss is a kiss, right? Why else bother with one? So I went to kiss him in the way that I know how to kiss-- open mouth and tongue. The problem is that he wasn't expecting it and had already started to pull away. So once I started the open mouth kiss, I kind of got a weird peck in return and then we parted. Not good.

Afterwards, he looked at me startled.

"Wow! You're a good kisser!" he said.

"Um, thanks...." I stared at my drink. This was not going well.

We made some mediocre conversation for another half hour or so. I told him that I was looking forward to the start of 24 the next night, and he offered for me to come watch it at his house.

"I have a high def TV!" he said.

"Um, yeah... Maybe at some point."

Finally, at around 12:45 am I told him I was tired and that I wanted to head home.

"Can we do this again sometime?" he asked.

"Well, sure." He went to get me a cab, holding the door open for me.

Then he went in for a second kiss.

Well, the guy didn't seem to learn, as our second kiss was a near repeat of the first. He went in with the peck; I offered the open-mouth; he was already pulling back. Only this time, he at last realized his mistake and decided to go back in for an open-mouth kiss. The only problem is that at that point, I was already pulling away, and all he got were his parted lips swiping against my cheek. A total mess. (And Narc is an amazing kisser... Ugh!)

So, that was my date.

On the way home, I couldn't stop thinking of Narc. I sent him a text.

Hi. I wrote.

I didn't hear back.

I heard from Double-T again on Tuesday afternoon. He called me, but I haven't yet called him back. I know-- it's Friday already and I'm being very rude. It's just that I have a lot of anxiety around the issue and haven't been able to face up to calling him. Here's what he said:

Hey Hyde, It's Double-T. It's about 2:30 on Tuesday. Um... Hope you had a good rest of the weekend. Hope the two episodes of 24 were just all kinds of wonderful and good for you. Ummm.. Just wondering if you felt like getting together some time this week. I was actually planning on getting a bite to eat tonight at that restaurant that I like that's closing. Um... which I'll probably end up doing that one way or another this week. Um... I'll probably do it tonight. And if that were something that interests you and works with your schedule, I don't know if you're over at the College today or not, but if you're already on the West Side, I thought it might... I thought it might be a good thing to do. But, um... Another day or another place or another thing, um... might be good too. Call me when you get a chance. Let's see what the schedules say. Um... Take care. Bye bye.

I do feel guilty for having neglected to respond, but I just can't right now. I have to call by the end of the day today or not call at all, right? It's already not cool of me.

Anyway, so that was that.

Sunday, January 15th:

On Sunday Hammer and I hung out all afternoon, braving the bitter cold. We met for brunch at Daddy-O's-- the place were I met Narc in July, 2004. I hadn't been back there since, and wouldn't have been able to tell you the name of the place if Narc hadn't mentioned it last month. It's actually only a block from Hammer's apartment. It was strange to be back there. Afterwards, we did a little shopping (makeup and accessories) and then settled in at a cafe to get some work done.

That evening, I headed over to the Wizard's apartment to watch 24 with him and Hammer. The first two hours of the season KICKED ASS! As the Wizard put it:

"I don't want to have any emotions anymore."

"Me neither!" I said.

I brought over some Chinese food and the pictures from Argentina and Hammer burned a smelly bag of popcorn in the microwave, which was kind of funny. During the show, B texted me a few times. Okay...so I guess our "I'll never talk to you again" didn't last very long. Even so, and despite the fun I was having with Hammer and the Wizard, my heart was hurting from the fact that B and I were not together.

On the way home, I sent Narc a text telling him how great 24 was and asking him what he was up to.

He didn't reply.

That night, I had a little bit of a medical problem and I needed to speak to B. I can't explain it any more than that, but I called him twice and he didn't pick up. I felt guilty calling him, so I didn't leave a message. He texted me back What's up? and so I wrote to him and told him. I was fully expecting him to call me, but he didn't.

At that moment, I had never felt more alone. I started to bawl my eyes out. I just lay in bed and cried and cried until my body was racked and I could cry no more. Finally, when I had stopped expecting it, the phone rang. This was a prime scenario for a mess. I was already in hysterical mode and B was annoyed.

I won't detail this phone call, as it was much too personal, but the bottom line is this-- B said he thought that we weren't talking anymore.

"Since when are you not talking to me?" I asked. "The way we left it off, I wasn't talking to you until I was ready to, but as I understood it, you're still my friend."

"I just don't know what the rules are, H," he said.

"There are no rules," I said. "I thought we were just trying to downgrade our friendship-- transition it so that we're not primaries anymore. I didn't know it meant that you aren't there for me at all when I need you!"

The phone call went on for quite some time with a lot of tears and a few hang-ups, and then all seemed to resolve. B agreed with me and said he was sorry he didn't call back sooner. I told him that he has to trust that I won't call him superfluously and that we need to work out the terms of all this together.

So that was that.

Monday, January 16th:

On Monday-- Hmm... Well, what did I do on Monday? Oh! I got a message from the Stallion that day. (See? When it rains, it pours!) He said:

Hey, what's up H? It's the Stallion. How you doing? Hope you had a pretty fun week. Damn! It's Monday already. I feel like it should be Friday. Anyway, I had a really great night with you too last weekend. Sorry I didn't get back to you. I've been running around. I had a couple emergencies. But um, I would love to talk to you. So I guess just text me or something... Or email me and um... we'll get a hold of each other or something. Alright? Bye.

What else happened that day? I can't quite remember right now. I do know that I was back at the Wizard's apartment for a second round of 24 on Monday night. The Wizard cooked us little steaks and then Hammer brought over McDonald's cheeseburgers. (Sunday night's advertising worked well on us.) Later the Wizard made some Mexican vanilla milk. Again, the show KICKED ASS!

On my way home, I stopped in at Cheers. The place was pretty empty except for BarMan, ThursdayGirl, and another regular who just had a birthday and was back from a cruise, telling us all about it. The tail end of the Golden Globe Awards were on TV and ThursdayGirl was trying to teach me how to play Texas Holdum. I drank until they closed up and then headed home.

Back at my place, I was surprised to get a call from Narc! He asked how 24 was and we chatted for a few minutes, but I was drunk and he was not. I asked if he wanted to hang out.

"No. I'm not up to partying tonight," he said.

"We don't have to party," I insisted. "We could just hang out."

"No. I think I'm just going to play some Prince of Persia and then go to bed."

"Okay."

Still, I felt unsettled and depressed. I hate going to bed alone, as you well know, and I was already revved up from all the drinking at Cheers. I decided to turn right around and go to Manchester.

As I approached the bar, I could see that Sean Duffy was working. Turning into the door, guess who I saw sitting at the bar? BarMan and ThursdayGirl! They laughed to see me again and I stayed with them and had a drink or two. They took off shortly thereafter. (BarMan wasn't drinking-- he's trying to lose a few pounds before a trip to the Dominican Republic).

After they left, I had no one to talk to. I was kind of bored. Then I spotted a bunch of guys at another table in bright orange shirts. I walked over and asked them why they were wearing orange shirts. Don't get me wrong-- I wasn't interested in these guys-- just bored and drunk and it was a good conversation starter. They were wearing orange shirts because they were in town for some convention. They were all from the South.

As the night progressed I got pretty wasted. I found some funny things jotted down in my journal in the morning though--

--One of them told me to read The Baroque Cycle by Neil Stevenson

--One of them told me "Be Flexible!"

--One of them said "Don't settle!"

--One of them said "Find God in your life."

--Then, here's the kicker-- I found a napkin that said the following (and not in my handwriting)-- "Secret from your old Daddy John: SCOTCH: Blend = Chivas Regal. Single = Glenlivet. Drink all you want. Don't mix (except with water) and you'll NEVER have a hangover.

Okay. Well, thanks for the advice, gentlemen.

After that, I don't really remember getting home.

Tuesday, January 17th:

Tuesday was calm-- a work day of sorts I went to go see Pride and Prejudice by myself in the mid-afternoon. I fell in love with Mr. Darcy and then I just started to get butterflies in my stomach all over again for Narc. I decided to text him.

Okay. Fait accomplit. I'm in love w/ Darcy, I wrote.

He wrote back an hour or so later:

Thought you'd like that one...!

I wrote to him again that I was bored, and that I was looking forward to American Idol. I asked how his Monday night plans were, but he didn't write back.

That evening, I gave the last of the makeup exams for Fall Semester and then headed home. I was wiped out. I watched the first episode of Idol, talked to B on the phone for a bit and then went to bed early.

Wednesday, January 18th:

On Wednesday, I was determined to get my life back into order. I started the day with a productive (if not confrontational) therapy session. Then I started to clean my house, taking care of the worst parts first (like the mound of gross dishes that had been building up in the sink). After that it was off to my first voice lesson in a month! It was great. My voice was in pretty good shape (although I'm feeling the beginnings of a sore throat this morning) and my breathing wasn't even all that bad, even without practice over the past few weeks. From there, I had a few hours to kill up by Columbia before choir practice at 7:00. So I took my book (Beware of Pity, by Stefan Zweig) and settled in a cafe.

To my delight, I got a text from Narc!

"Goonies" on AMC. He wrote.

I wrote back right away.

Hyde: I LOVE Goonies! Not home though. In a cafe near Columbia reading "Beware of Pity." Had my 1st voice lesson in a while. Went really well. Now choir @ 7:00... :)

Narc: Book is great, right? "Idol soon!"

Hyde: It's sad. And frustrating. But very well done. I saw Idol last night but won't be home tonight til 10:45. Yay for DVR!

Choir rehearsal was inspirational as usual. We're preparing for a big benefit concert at Carnegie Hall next week-- Beethoven's 9th!

On my way home, I got another text from Narc:

"Idol" was hilarious! Signed up for three different martial arts schools; going to be busy next week!

I called him back. He actually picked up! He told me he was folding laundry. I pictured it and thought it was really cute.

Then the strangest thing happened-- Narc and I had a 40 minute conversation that did not culminate in making plans to hang out. We just talked. We talked as if we were friends. Maybe we are. I don't know...

At around 11:00, we hung up the phone and I headed out to Cheers. It was a pretty slow night, so I mostly chatted it up with IrishBird. I updated her on my weekend adventures and I played a lot of music on the jukebox. I also got wasted.

I don't remember the rest of the night, but as I hadn't eaten dinner, I guess I decided to drunk-cook.

Thursday, January 19th:

When I woke up the next morning, I put my foot smack into a puddle of spaghetti near my bed, the offending bowl sitting on the dresser nearby. Gross! What a way to start the day. My head was spinning.

Just then, I got a call from B.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Hyde! Am I ever going to see you again?"

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't seen you since last Wednesday!"

"What? You miss me?"

"Yes, I miss you! It's been too long! One week is too long."

"Well, we can see each other. Sure. Do you want to get lunch?"

He agreed. He was leaving church (his church is not far from my place) and so we decided to meet at a diner near my house. I was glad to see him. I missed him too.

After lunch, he came up to my apartment and he listened to me sing. Then we sang some Beethoven together and just sat and talked for a while. He left about an hour later.

I stayed in for the whole day yesterday, cleaning my house. I finally got rid of my Christmas tree! At about 5:00, I got a text from Narc:

Near Cheers. May pop in for brief bit.

Hyde: I'm home cleaning. Want company?

Then there was no response. I called his phone fifteen minute later. He didn't answer. I waited another fifteen minutes and called again. This time I left a message. Still no answer. I was starting to get worried. Finally, about an hour after the initial text, I got a response:

Went home instead. Going to work etc.

That's depressed-Narc. I felt sad for him. It was radiating through the cell phone, even via text message!

I wrote back:

Ok. You just had me worried there. I think I'm staying in tonight too. Good luck with the work! Call if you get bored... :)

And that was that.

Last night I went to bed very early, as I mentioned, I'm starting to feel a sore throat coming on. I think I'm going to take it easy today too, although Oc is having a big birthday party tonight. Hmmm.... We'll see.

One thing's for sure-- I'm going to take a break from blogging. I'm wiped!!!!

:)

h

This One's for the Boys: Part III

I wrote this yesterday afternoon. Still not done though. This motherfucker of a post is going to require a Part IV!!!

****************************
Yuck! It's an awful day out today! An awful rainy day! Yet, even still, I have to head out this afternoon for a voice lesson and then choir rehearsal. I wish I could snuggle indoors all day and just clean my house. Anyway, on with my story...

But I realized I left out a few details from Friday, so that first--

On Friday morning, when I woke up, I had a text message from Double-T. He wrote:

Hi, Hyde. Lovely spending time with you last night... Still plan to call later, but wanted to say howdy. -Double-T.

Then later that day, I got a call from him:

Hey Hyde, it's Double-T. It's shortly after 7:00 on Friday night. Hopefully you remember me from last night..... this time. Calling to see if you were free to visit tonight. If you were still going to be in the area. Or otherwise to visit some other time over the weekend. Call me at your convenience. If you want to get me on the land line it's xxx-xxxx or the cell remains xxx-xxxx. Hope you had a good day. I will speak to you later. Bye bye.

I sent him a message back that night:

Hey. Was nice getting to know you too! Feeling a little wiped out tonight, but lets meet up later this weekend. What works for you?

We eventually agreed on dinner Saturday night. His last word on the subject:

Sounds good. I'll ring you tomorrow & we'll figure out a time 'n' place. Looking forward to it.

Now, on to Saturday!

Saturday, January 14th:

Narc and I woke up on Saturday morning at a relatively decent hour and set about ordering in some brunch. Then we resumed our usual activity-- intermittently having sex while watching whatever he chooses to put on the TV. This went on well into the afternoon, when at around 3:00 pm, I got a text from B.

Hi, he wrote.

I called him back.

"Went fishing, and you found me!" I said.

I sprawled myself out on Narc's couch. He was in his bedroom doing something on the computer.

"So what's up, B? Are you psyched for the start of 24 tomorrow?"

"Yeah, of course!"

"You are coming over to watch it, right?"

"Well.... Um... I don't know, H. "

Suddenly, this seemed serious.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't know... I've been giving a lot of thought to that conversation we had the other day."

"Yeah, well, me too."

He perked up at that.

"You have? Really?"

"Sure."

"And? So, what have you been thinking?"

I couldn't help but get the feeling that B wanted me to relieve him of his responsibility for this (yet again!). He wanted me to tell him that I know what's best, and what's best is for him to forget about 24 with me and to attend to his girlfriend. I wasn't about to say that, though. And I didn't want to talk in front of Narc. I could already feel my heart starting to pulse with a dull aching pain. Tears were waiting to gush, just seconds from the gate. I held them back and swallowed hard.

"B, I really can't discuss this right now," I said. "I'm at Narc's."

"Ok, fine."

"I just want to know if you're coming tomorrow or not," I repeated.

"Well, I haven't yet broached the subject with Drippy," he said.

"So? What does that mean?"

"I don't know."

"Look, B... We've watched every episode of this show together for the past four seasons. I don't know how this is going to all work out in the big picture... I don't know whether or not we'll watch together this year... But if you haven't made that decision yet, don't stand me up for the opening!"

Suddenly 24 had taken on some kind of transcendent symbolic meaning.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he sighed. "So, I'll come over, then."

I didn't like the way he said it.

"Look-- Don't come if it's a joke! If it's a lie! I mean, I don't want a pity friendship from you."

I was getting upset now.

"I just thought that we agreed that things have to change," he said.

"We did," I assured him. "But unless you're ready to change everything right now, don't pull the rug out from under me. This is a big deal to me. And besides, I REALLY can't talk about this now."

"But, Hyde! We need to talk about it."

"Yeah, but I really can't right now. I have to go."

"But--"

"B! I have to go."

We hung up. A few minutes later, he sent me a text:

You're right. I won't come for 24. No use pretending.

That was it for me... I couldn't hold back any longer.

Leave me alone. Goodbye, I wrote back.

I wandered into Narc's bedroom, half in a daze.

"What's up?" he asked, turning around from the computer.

"I don't know. I think I just need some air."

He moved to open the window.

"Shit. It's raining out. Pretty hard."

"No, I really need some air! Narc-- Can I go up to your roof?"

"Hyde... It's raining."

"I know. I don't care."

"Well, sure, if you want. You can take an umbrella by the door."

He told me how to get up there, and up I went.

It was eerie exiting onto the roof. The city was obscured by a thick white fog. To the West, I could see the river, a partial view of downtown, and the billowing dense white air hanging over New Jersey. I moved to the South-East corner of the building. I could see city hall and the park but most of the rest lay in the fog. The Northern view was even worse. On a clear day, you can see straight into midtown from his building. That afternoon, everything north of Canal Street seemed to have been erased.

The rain came down on my shoulders, soaking rather quickly through my navy blue hooded sweatshirt. I lit a cigarette, shielding it from the elements with my cupped hand. I couldn't sit down though, as everything was soaking wet, so I chose a corner and crouched above the gravel, hunched over, smoking cigarette after cigarette as plainly as I could. My mind was as blank as the heavy white air enshrouding me. Time was suspended. Only my heart felt heavy. And my bones felt chilled. I hadn't brought a coat. I started to cry.

Then I called B.

"What is it?"

His voice was ice cold. He was shutting down.

"I just called to say goodbye."

"H! What does that mean?" He sounded exasperated with me. Tired.

"It means that I don't want you to call me until I call you... Okay? DON'T CALL ME AGAIN. I'll call you eventually... That is... if you still want me to."

"Of course I want you to, H!"

"Okay, then. Well, this may be it for a while."

I was starting to have trouble breathing.

"So, good luck with everything B."

I was crying now. This was about to turn into a mega-drama "a la Hyde." I think he sensed that. He tried to cut it off at the pass.

"Okay," he said. "Goodbye."

After we hung up, I began to sob uncontrollably. I let myself collapse onto the gravel, not worrying about the sheets of rain or the damp cigarettes in my pocket. I smoked them until they were all gone and then my phone rang. It was my mother.

I debated for a moment whether or not to pick up. I was in no state for a conversation, but I had already ignored an earlier call from her. (She was expecting me to come over that weekend and I had never called her to tell her I wasn't coming).

In retrospect, I'm glad I picked up. I told her what was going on with B (although I left out the fact that I was on Narc's roof, crying in the rain), and she gave me some good advice and love and support. She was really solid and I felt a million times better by the time we hung up. My mom can be the greatest.

I finally felt relieved of the sharpest pain, and I was getting wet and cold. Plus, I was out of cigarettes. I decided to head back in.

When Narc answered the door, I must have looked like a soggy, sad mess. He didn't say anything about it though.

"You can leave your sweatshirt over there," he said, indicating the umbrella bucket by the door, as he walked back over to the couch.

He settled in to "his side" of the couch and I quietly went and took a seat on "my side." He didn't ask what was wrong or why I had been on the roof for so long. So, I didn't say anything. I just pulled my knees up to my chest and stared at the TV sullenly. My head was hurting and my body was exhausted from emotion. Neither of us said anything for a long time.

Narc was flipping channels, and that Jim Jarmusch movie, Coffee and Cigarettes was on. It was the Cate Blanchett scene.

"You have to see the next scene!" he said. "The one with Alfred Molina and Steve Coogan. Have you seen this movie?"

"No," I murmured.

He didn't say anything else. I blankly stared at the movie. Cate Blanchett was playing both characters in the scene.

"Narc, I'm depressed." I finally blurted out. "B and I are in a fight and I have plans tonight and I don't want to go."

He looked at me, but still didn't say a word. There was nothing that I could detect in his eyes. Dead. Cold.

"Can I have a hug?" I whimpered.

I felt so fucking vulnerable.

"Please?"

He still didn't answer. So I didn't wait. I lunged across the couch and stretched my arms around his belly. He let me hug him, but he didn't hug me back. So, I reached up for his arm that was resting across the top of the sofa and drew it down around my neck, clinging to it. We stayed like that for a minute or two and then he quietly withdrew his arm. I shimmied back over to my side of the sofa. No one had spoken a word.

"So, what are your plans tonight?" he asked, casually.

"I don't even know," I whined. "I don't want to go. I'm supposed to have dinner with this friend... I mean, someone I don't know."

"Well, that's good." His voice was tight.

He was tense. It was obvious it was a date. I didn't bother to disguise it.

"Not really, Narc," I complained. "Besides, he said he'd call me to tell me when and where and it's after 5:00 now and he hasn't called yet. I'd say that's an excuse to call it off."

I wanted him to tell me to call it off. I wanted him to say "Stay here tonight, Hyde. We'll bum around together and watch movies and just be with each other and I'll cheer you up." But that's not what he said.

"You can't call it off!" he said. "You have to go! It's always good to meet new people! Always good!"

"Ugh. I don't know, N. I'm not in the mood."

I felt bitter and more depressed than ever.

"Well, get in the mood. You'll have fun."

I hated him for that-- for encouraging me to go on a date with someone else. Maybe he didn't want to have to sit with my depression.

"Send him a text and ask him the plan," he suggested.

"Fine," I pouted, aggressively punching at the keypad of my cellphone.

What's up w/tonight? I wrote.

Double-T called me back almost right away.

Ughh!

I picked up the phone and wandered into Narc's bedroom.

"Why don't I pick a place?" he suggested. "East or West Side? What time is good for you?"

"I don't know... 9:30? I'll come to the West Side. I don't mind coming to you."

I felt uncomfortable talking to Double-T in Narc's house.

Then it was back to my position on the couch. I slouched into my shoulders and pulled my hair over my eyes.

"I need a drink, Narc. Big time!"

"Well, I don't have anything here," he half laughed.

"You have that champagne we bought on Thursday...."

"You want that?"

"Yes, please." I smiled at him, like a little girl.

"Well, okay."

"Do you want any?"

"Yeah, I guess I'll have a glass."

I got up and made the arrangements. By this time, the Molina/Coogan scene had come and gone. (It was painful to watch). I poured the champagne. Narc flipped channels. And then, guess what he found on TV? Over the Top! The Stallone "Trucker" movie we had just been talking about!

"We missed the first hour!" he wailed. "That's okay. Let's watch it from here."

I drank the bulk of the champagne and the movie cheered me up a bit. Nothing was really working though. The gloom still hung on me like the fog over the Hudson river.

At about 6:30, we both got up to leave. Narc told me he had to go to the bookstore to find something new to read. We walked outside together.

"It's a fucking hurricane out here!" he complained.

He said he would wait for me while we hailed a cab.

"You don't have to if you're cold," I volunteered. "Just go. I can get the cab by myself."

"No. It's okay."

A cab pulled over. Narc opened the door.

"Your chariot, my lady," he said.

I didn't kiss him or hug him goodbye. I didn't want to go on the date.

...To be Continued (yet again!)...

This One's for the Boys: Part II

Ah! Finally a moment to resume my story!

(More of) Thursday, January 12th:

When I last left you, I had just kissed Double-T good night, quickly conversed with Narc, and was on my way to meet him in a cab. I started blabbing on to my cab driver about one thing or another. He was an Indian fellow and told me he is dating an Italian girl. Then he asked me if I'm a virgin, glancing back at me through the rear-view mirror. Yuck.

I asked to be dropped at Hudson and Horatio, but he left me at the wrong corner, and in my drunken state, I couldn't quite orient myself. I had to ask two people on the street to point me in the right direction.

When I got to Bar & Books, Narc was pretty wasted. He was sitting alone, smoking, with a plate of half eaten finger sandwiches that he had saved for me. Our conversation that night was intense and dear. That said, I can no longer recall it in utter detail. Here is the best that I can do:

Hyde and Narc on truth serum (or alcohol):

At one point I asked him if he remembered the last time I had been with him at B&B.

"Yeah, sure I remember," he said.

"You do? It was almost a year ago. February 12th."

"Wow. I guess I didn't remember that," he said. "Hyde the Historian!"

"I only remember so well because I blog everything," I explained. "That and the fact that you said something unbelievably sweet to me that night-- something I'll never forget."

"What did I say?" he asked.

"I can't tell you. It's a secret."

"Even though I said it?"

"Yeah, I know. But the memory belongs to me and I don't think I want to share it. I don't want it to get messed up."

Later on in the evening, I brought up the subject of PopStarChick and the opera, once again.

"You're not jealous are you?" he acted surprised.

"Oh, come on, Narc. Of course I'm jealous. How could I not be? Of all the things to do! The opera! The opera!"

I reminded him about the La Boheme debacle in our history.

"Hyde, it wasn't planned like that at all. It's not like I bought the tickets for her. I would have rather gone with you! You have to know that."

"Um, no... not really. You could have asked me to go if you wanted to go with me."

"You said you would be in Argentina."

"What do you mean? Obviously I knew I was coming back, I had tickets to that opera myself."

"That's not true. You emailed me that you were coming back on the 7th or the 8th."

"What? Why would I do that? I never said that."

"Hyde! Of course you did! I'll make you a bet about it."

I shook my head.

"Why else wouldn't I take you to the opera? You're 'OperaChick,' right? I mean, I only got those tickets because it was Wozzeck. And you know I did that show. I honestly didn't know who I was going to get to go with me. And it only ended up being PopStarChick as a last minute thing. I'm telling you I would have rather gone with you."

"Narc, that's a lie."

"It's not a lie. I can't lie. I just can't do it."

"Not true. I can think of a few times you've lied."

"Like when?"

"Not to drag this all up again, but you told me you only saw my blog once from MY house. I know you went on it from your place at least three times."

"That's not true."

"Narc, I know that it is. I have evidence."

"Oh? How do you know it was me?'

"I have your IP address from a marked email I sent you last December."

"Last December!" he huffed. He looked away as if that alone proved his case.

"Yes, last December. Same IP address."

"Those sitemeters aren't always accurate," he said.

I wanted to remind him of another lie-- of the fact that in August he had sworn that he never went on the date with the Exhibitionist, even though he contradicted himself later and told me that he dated her, having met her through an online dating site. I held my tongue. Drunk or not, better not to go there. Instead I decided to get back on topic.

"Look, Narc--if it was so last minute, why did you write on your blog that you had a big birthday surprise for her... As if you had been planning it all out for ages! This when you didn't get me anything at all for my birthday!"

"Ugh! Don't start that Hyde! Whatever... Do you think I want to be dating PopStarChick?"

"Well... yes!" (I was coming straight out with it now.)

"You're wrong, Hyde. You're wrong. I don't want to be with her! Besides, who are you to talk? You were there at the opera with your ex-boyfriend. Your ex-BOYFRIEND!"

He was talking straight into my ear and had raised his voice. I winced and moved away.

"No, Narc. I was there with my best friend."

He looked at me in disbelief.

"I mean, fine," I went on. "I will always love him, the way that I will always love you. People can't turn their hearts on and off. And you know that I'll always be here for you too, even if it's 50 years from now! And anyway, even if he is my ex-BOYFRIEND, YOU'RE the one who doesn't want a relationship with ME! You know that I would be with you if you wanted it. It's not the same when I hang out with B as when you go on a date with someone else. You can't be jealous of B when you're the one who's rejecting me!"

He looked at me in silence.

"You're right, Hyde," he said at long last. "You can't be my girlfriend. You can't be my girlfriend, and you wanna know why not?"

"Oh, god... What is it this time?"

"Your house is too messy," he grinned at me.

I lit another cigarette.

"Okay, so let me get this straight. This time, it's because my house is too messy; in December it was because I'm too emotional; and in June, it was because I'm unhealthy (compared to your picture of complete health), right?"

"It's all the same thing," he said. "Your life is messy because your mind is messy."

"No, Narc. That's where you have it wrong. My mind is not messy. And if it were, it would be because my life is messy right now. And I'm sick of it. And I'm sick of us. And I want a boyfriend."

He didn't say anything.

"I want a boyfriend!" I reasserted. "I want someone who can be my friend, who I can count on, who will be domestic with me. I want someone with whom I can calm down. It doesn't have to be the love of my life, but I need order, and clearly that person is not you."

Still, he didn't answer.

"So, I think I have to start looking for that person," I said. "I think I have to stop having such tunnel-vision for you. I love you, but I hate this. This is not the way I want my life to be."

"You're right," he said. "That person is not me." He looked away. "I can't be anyone's boyfriend. Don't you see that?"

"You don't want me," I said. "You don't want me. But I love you."

(When will I get him to understand how much that HURTS?)

I looked him square in the eye. He stared straight back.

"I know that," he said, quietly.

"But you don't love me," I pressed.

"Is that what you think?"

I nodded my head, yes.

"Is that what you think, Hyde?" He was getting riled up again. "Fuck you, then! You don't know me at all. If you can say that, you don't know me."

"So you do love me, Narc?"

"You know that I do."

We continued to sit and drink and smoke. Narc ordered us up special drinks that he named with his last name. He made me hold my ears while he gave the bartender the recipe. And thus, the evening wound onward into the wee hours of the night. And then it began.

"You're a wanker, Hyde," he slurred.

"Uh oh! Don't start that!" I smiled. "It's wanker-Narc coming out. It means you're really wasted! You only say that when you're a goner."

That seemed to quiet him for the moment.

Narc was standing at the bar while I sat on the barstool at his side.

The next thing that happened was beyond belief. One moment we were standing there talking. And the next-- he simply started vomiting. It was such a calm and subtle affair. So strange! It wasn't loud and he didn't crouch down. He didn't clutch at his stomach or seem surprised. He just stood there, exactly as before, only vomiting!

I jumped up out of my seat and raced into the restroom for paper towels. I was really blown away. I've seen Narc in the drunkest of drunk states, but never vomiting. I don't think most hard-core drinkers vomit like that. At least I've never been one for it. I've only thrown up once from drinking ever-- in the summer of 1998 I was 19 years old and in Russia. I drank an entire bottle of cheap vodka in one evening. That was enough to do it for me.

Anyway, I jumped down onto my hands and knees and began to wipe the vomit away, off his shoes, off my bag and off the floor of the bar, as much as I could. Of course, the people who worked there caught wind of this and sent over a mop. I don't think they wanted one drunk customer crawling around on her hands and knees in the vomit of another.

"Maybe you guys should call it a night," the bartender suggested.

"Yes, yes!" I blushingly agreed, gathering our things. I took Narc by the hand and we were off.

We took a cab back to his place. I wanted to kiss him in the cab and told him so.

"I can't, Hyde," he said. "I just threw up."

"I don't care," I answered.

I wanted him to know that I love him and that I really don't care. (B got mad at me when I told him this part of the story. He thinks it's symbolic and that I degrade myself willingly and by design. Whatever...)

On the way back in, we stopped at the deli. He wanted to buy a bottle of champagne and I got us a bag of doritos. Walking from there back to his apartment, I reached to hold his hand. But when he took my hand in his, he realized that I was wearing the aquamarine and diamond ring that B had given me. (My favorite piece in the world!) He got upset.

"I can't hold your hand with that fucking thing on your finger!" he said.

I switched it to the other hand.

Then, at his place he wanted me to play some video kickboxing game. I kept saying I didn't want to. I didn't know how to play, and I told him that I don't like hitting other people.

"Easier to be hit," I said.

"Don't say that," he smiled.

I played the game.

Friday, January 13th:

The next morning I opened my eyes with my head in his lap. I had fallen asleep stretched out on the couch, and he was sleeping in an upright position. Crumbs of doritos along with our shoes and clothes were strewn everywhere. We must have just passed out. I shook him to wake him up and we both moved into the bedroom where we slept for a few more hours. I woke up again first and lay beside him, scribbling down some thoughts from the night before in my journal.

Narc woke up a few hours later and we ordered in some Japanese.

"Time for some more '80s-movie-education!" he announced.

We decided to watch Schwarzenegger in The Running Man. It was a strange movie. After that we popped in Aliens, which I thoroughly enjoyed. (Especially Bill Paxton's one liners-- "Game over, man! GAME OVER!!!")

The rest of the afternoon was absolutely amazing in ways that are in no way appropriate for this blog. Let's just say that I ended up with several pleasure-induced injuries and that Narc-Hyde chemistry of yesteryear was back. It was like the beginning and animalistic and insane and I loved every second of it. I'm dying to write about it, but even I have a modicum of modesty and I haven't yet started an x-rated blog on the side.

That evening, he wanted me to stay and go to the movies with him.

"We could see Tristan and Isolde," he tried to entice me.

"I can't. I have plans with NDN. But I'll come back after the boxing match if you want."

"Sure. Give me a call then."

So I left at around 7:00 to meet NDN to go to an amateur boxing match.

(While we were in Argentina, I was talking to NDN about my taste in men and he promised to play the "brooder" for me. When I met him back at our building, I found him dressed in all black. He tried to give off some gloom and doom. It was cute.)

We set off for the West Side, where I was surprised to see the line to get in extended around the corner. The match was to be held in the basement of the Church of St. Paul the Apostle at Columbus and 60th. It's a gorgeous church and I once sang a Christmas concert there, but I hadn't been aware of the immense basement.

I got on the line (extending half way around the corner to 9th avenue!) and NDN went to go find me something to eat, as I hadn't had dinner. When he got back to the line, he wanted to take pictures of us boxing each other. I was embarrassed and didn't want to do it.

"Oh! Come on, Hyde!" he insisted.

I continued to refuse. He passed his camera to the guy on line in front of us.

"Would you take our picture?" he asked.

"NDN! I'm not going to do it!" I protested.

"Fine, then I'll just box you."

NDN put his arm around my neck and raised his fist at my head. I was laughing, but the guy with the camera seemed embarrassed.

"I'm not going to take a picture of you hitting your girlfriend like that," he said.

But he took the picture.

Once inside the church, I was astounded at the size of the ring and the number of people. There weren't any more seats left, so NDN and I found a place to stand off to the right-hand side of the room. I have to say, there were a lot of "bad boys" in the crowd, a lot of tattoos and a lot of sweat, and I rather liked it.

We only stayed for a few matches-- about an hour and a half. I drank a can of cheap beer and NDN kept shouting out funny little remarks. For example, when a pair of female fighters were going at it in the ring, NDN excitedly let out:

"TEACH HER A LESSON!"

It was rather amusing.

But as the novelty of it all started to wear off, we decided it was too hot to stay for much longer. Instead, we decided to cut out early. Besides, I was still pretty hungry. Off we headed to Little Korea for some Bi Bim Bop. (One of my favorites!) And I have to say-- it was delicious!

During the meal, I got a text from Narc. He still wanted to catch the late showing of Tristan. I hadn't showered or changed my clothes in over a day though, and really needed to get home and refresh myself. I was sure that there wouldn't be time to make it to the movie.

I didn't make it to Narc's place again until around midnight. Once there, we finished off the night together just snuggling and watching some more TV before going to bed at a fairly reasonable hour.

Okay, that's all I can manage for now. For my fight with B on Saturday and details about the date, you will have to wait a bit more... A Part III to this post! Besides, I have to go adminster yet ANOTHER makeup exam! (When will it end???)

-Tired H-