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-
6 comments:
It sounds like your neighbor is a riot. Too bad I don't have a neighbor like that.
I have things to say, but they require a more personal setting.... I'll call you soon
: )
and you call me boy crazy!?
I forgot that you like pain.
Amateur boxing in a church basement? Who knew!
Hold on a second; I am in shock! You never saw Aliens before?
OK kidding...there's a lot of jaw-droppers here but I've got to finish reading first!
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