Honestly, Honesty.

First of all, if there's anything I want to be in the entire world, it's the aesthetic of this song.

That said...

Honesty... Honestly... I feel like a dishonest person. I don't think there's a single person in the entire world with whom I completely let down my guard. I have a hard time lying to people in obvious ways. I'm very honest like that... But I'm not honest when it comes to presenting myself. I'm constantly pulling on and pulling off a whole slew of masks and it's absolutely exhausting. This blog is just a forum for yet another mask. I'm never "dishonest" here, but at the same time, I am, here, like everywhere else, entirely and rather consciously constructed. And I'm tired.

I think that Narc is a "dishonest" person too, in the same way that I am. Perhaps he's worse. (Anyone who has seen him in person or read his blog has had a taste of his constructs.) We used to work well together because the personas we put on with each other knew how to have fun. It was about sex and alcohol and adventure and power, all the while flirting with the notion of real intimacy-- the most frightening and risk-taking proposition of all for either of us. But those masks have become somewhat defunct at this point. The "honeymoon" period is over. We know each other too well to be playing those games, but there's no where else to go. We are never going to be truly close. How can we be? We don't trust each other, and there's not much respect there either. (My therapist has always said that the two essential ingredients to any friendship or romance are trust and respect. Reading Mystic's blog today has reminded me of that as well). And so, it's almost like we've hit a wall and don't know how to behave around each other anymore.

I told you all that about my Narc-torture-night on Wednesday night and about how I went to go see Brokeback Mountain with ThursdayGirl and Masseuse on Thursday. Well, that night, I once again, got into bed early. (I thought I was depressed all weekend, but in truth, I think a lot of it has to do with being physically run down. I've been sneezing and my throat hurts a little and now I have this conjunctivitis...) That night, as I was falling asleep, all I could think about was Thursday afternoon's talk with Narc. We had finally said the words out loud. He had finally acknowledged how this is screwing with my head. What would happen next? Would I ever hear from him again?

All of my friends laugh when I ask things like that. ("He's not going anywhere, Hyde, and neither are you!" they say). I don't know why I never believe them. I don't know why I was surprised when my phone rang again just after midnight that night. I don't know why he called. I don't know why I picked up.

He was drunk. He asked me how Brokeback was. We spoke about it for a few minutes. He had loved the film and was glad that I liked it too. He kept asking me to come down and see him.

"I can't Narc. Tomorrow is my killer teaching day and I have to get up early. Where were you tonight, anyway?"

He told me he was at an 8 at 8 event. (It's basically a singles thing to meet other singles. Nice). He started to tell me some strange story about leaving the event with two girls and going to some restaurant where they got locked in and the cops came, or something. It didn't make much sense. Like I said-- he was drunk (although not AS drunk as the night before).

"So are you coming here to see me, or not, Hyde?" he asked again.

"I told you that I can't!" I said.

"But I want you to come here and fuck me."

"While I would normally love to go there and fuck you, I have to go to work early tomorrow," I repeated.

"But, are you coming?"

"Narc! I don't want to start all this again tonight, okay? I don't want a repeat of last night."

"Oh that's right!" There was a sarcastic edge in his voice. "I'm just an asshole, right? I'm the evil one. I'm so awful. I'm so mean... so terrible! Right, Hyde?"

I didn't want to argue with him, but I certainly wasn't going to assuage his feelings on this one either.

"Let's just not do this now," I said.

I tried to change the subject.

"What are you doing right now?" he asked.

"Well, trying to sleep. But I was watching porn," I said. (It's true... I was.)

He started laughing at that one.

"Those movies are shit, Hyde!" he exclaimed. "Shit!!! Why are you watching that shit? You should be watching some real movies! Some better movies! C'mon! Aren't you going to watch the Oscars?"

"Yeah, I guess... When are they on?" I asked.

"What?!?! You don't know when they're on!?!? You're shiting me!"

"No... when? Early March?"

"Hyde, you love them! You're a chick. All chicks love the Oscars!"

"Um... well, not really. I mean, I like to watch them, but I'm not obsessed. What is it, March 5th, or something?"

"Yeah, that's right. March 5th. See? You knew!"

I thought of the Jon Stewart Academy Awards posters plastering the bus-stops around the city.

"So are you coming to my Oscars party?" he asked.

"What? You're inviting me to your party?"

"Sure."

You guys have to understand-- in a year and a half, I've never once been invited to anything with any of his friends. I've only met James and CouchSleeper, his two best friends, by running into them incidentally, not by invitation.

"You're really inviting me?"

"Yes!"

"Can I bring a friend?"

"That depends... Who?"

"I don't know... Hammer?"

"Hammer? Of course, Hammer! Of course you can bring Hammer!"

"Um, okay..."

I wasn't sure what to make of all this.

"Anyway, Narc, I should probably go to bed now. I have to get up in a few hours..."

On Friday morning, I saw that he had left me a message the night before on my cell phone. (I posted it here). So, I sent him a text at 6:40 am. In retrospect, I wish I hadn't. I wrote:

Morning! Remember inviting me (& Hammer) to your Oscar party last night? If not, just texting to remind you... Have a good day. I'm off to teaching torture til 3:30...

Teaching wasn't as bad this week as it was last week. We covered the French Revolution and got about halfway through the stuff on Napoleon. I'm telling you-- it's a marathon! By the afternoon I was feeling like shit and needed a nap. I took the bus home and read the whole way home. Back at my place, I basically crashed for a few hours.

Now, I don't know why, but at around 6:00 pm, I called him. I was shocked when he answered the phone. We talked for a few minutes. Both of us were sober and the conversation was stiff.

I told him I wanted to take a bubble bath. He told me he was watching A Few Good Men on TV. I laughed because he knows that movie by heart already. I asked if he wanted to hang out. (Trust me-- it felt like a MOST unnatural thing to do. Not a good indication of a healthy relationship). He told me he had to go to "meet market" event that night (another thing for singles). I didn't say anything about it, except for him to have fun. He said he'd give me a call later that night. Then I went to take my bubble bath.

Meanwhile, Double-T and I had been playing text-tag trying to make plans. The last message I had sent him, I said I would call, but I never did. He sent me another text asking me about my audition and I wrote back telling him I was accepted into the class. He returned my text:

Do you know how to use a phone? I thought you only texted... Call me when the hectic is manageable and we'll figure it out. Would love to see you, though.

So, it appeared he was getting frustrated with me. (I don't blame him. I WAS being a flake about returning his calls). I decided to call him just before my bath. He didn't pick up, so I left him a message.

I realized, this weekend, that downtime (DT) is decidedly underrated. My bubble bath was heavenly. I filled the bathroom with candles and made the water scorching and listened to Jo Stafford singing Sunday Kind of Love. I stayed in there as long as I could. I turned into a prune and was dizzy from the steam. Then I got up, showered off, and put my pajamas on. I was so exhausted from the teaching and from being run down (and from being moderately depressed) that I was in bed by 10:00, drifting off by 10:30.

I fell asleep and awoke to my phone ringing. It was Narc. I think it was around 11:00 pm. He said that he was on his way home. He was sober.

"If you're asleep, Hyde, go back to sleep," he said. "I was going to invite you over, but I don't want to wake you up."

"Um, no... I can get up... I can come over," I told him. (Why? I don't know! I don't understand myself sometimes).

I threw my things together as quickly as I could. I had slept through the Opening Ceremony of the Olympics, but caught Pavorotti singing Nessun dorma at the end. His cape made me laugh. Then I headed off to Cheers. I was way too anxious to see Narc unaided. (How sad is that?)

BarMan was singing and IrishBird and PumpedUp's cousin (who I still need a name for!) were tending bar.

I kissed IrishBird hello.

"I'll have two double jack and diet's. In pint glasses, please!"

"Both for you, Hyde?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah, why?"

She rolled her eyes at me.

I didn't care. I wasn't in the mood for it. I was in my sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt, disguised by my long black winter coat. Candy was there (the girl who got half naked in my bedroom back in October) and so was Cali, a girl I met at Cheers in late January. The two of them were drunk and were badly dancing with each other and it made me want to laugh. I drank as fast as I could. The combination was too sweet and I found it to be mildly nauseating, even though it's what I always drink. It was the perfect amount though. I finished what was equivalent to four drinks in fifteen minutes and it put me in just the right place. I was set to meet Narc.

He had called me and put in a request for Ben & Jerry's. I heard him on my voice mail.

"Bring some Half Baked, please!" Hmm... a change from the usual chocolate on chocolates!

I picked up the ice cream for him and some gum for me. (Sorry, NDN!) I didn't want him to know I had stopped for drinks first. Then I caught a cab and headed out.

(Incidentally, those are the only drinks I've had the ENTIRE WEEK-- Monday to Monday! Not bad, right?)

When I got there, I was happy to see him. The buzz sliced through any tension, at least for me. He was standoff-ish and seemed to not know what to do with himself or what to say to me. He sat on the couch stiffly. I didn't care, though, so I had no qualms about getting physical with him. Before you know it, we were fucking, and things seemed (to me) to be back to "normal." Of course, there is no such thing as normal, and even if there were, Narc and I certainly haven't found our way "back there," so after that, there was strangeness in the air again. We were watching Scarface on TV. I finally said I had to go to bed. It was nearly 3:00 am and I was fading fast.

Narc wasn't nearly as tired as I was, but he didn't want me to go to bed without him. So he followed me into the bedroom, and read for a while in bed. I have to say, it was really strange to me... Reading in bed with someone is a comfortable thing. But it just highlighted how fucked up and undefined our relationship is. It's clearly not just a sex thing. But it's not a "couple" thing either. It's not a friendship; but we're certainly not strangers. ARGHHH!!!!

The next morning I had to get up relatively early to meet my mom at the opera. We had tickets to see La Traviata. Narc and I screwed around some more in the morning and then he got up with me. I told him the plot of Traviata and how in a previous relationship I insisted we try to time our climax to one of my favorite moments in all of music-- in Act II when Violetta sings "Amami, Alfredo, quant'io t'amo! Addio!" He looked at me strangely. Who cares. (What he doesn't know is I once tried to do the same thing with him-- in April when we were fucking in my living room and Walkure was on the radio. Notung!)

He read from the RabbitBlog to me-- a question about some girl who had snooped on her boyfriend. Then he told me that his friend had gone snooping in his apartment back in September.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, after Katrina, I told --------- that she could come up with her boyfriend and use my apartment because I was in Europe and she had no where to stay."

(He was talking about his ex-girlfriend from when he lived in New Orleans).

"But she told my friend S. about it and he came here and used her name and crashed at my place."

(His friend S. lives about half an hour north of the city).

"So, he just used your apartment without your permission?"

"Yeah, but that's not the part that bothered me. He also went snooping through my stuff and took a sex tape that I had made with ----------."

"What?!?!"

"Yeah, he gave it back to her, but he told me that he watched it and made a copy first."

"Why the hell would your friend watch your sex tape? I mean, that's just weird! How can this guy be your friend?"

"I don't know," he said. "I guess friends are never as trustworthy as you think they are."

I didn't know what to make of this conversation and he sort of dismissed discussing it any further.

Later, he gave me two books to read-- the first, Shogun by James Clavell.

"What are you reading now," I asked.

"Well, I'm still waiting for some books to arrive," he said. "Including your birthday present. What I got you is out of print and hard to get a hold of, so it's taking forever, but I think you're going to love it."

"My birthday present? I thought you forgot about that..."

"No, it's coming."

I didn't know what to say to that.

When it was time for me to leave, he was standing in the living room.

"So... well... I'm going now," I said.

"Yeah, alright."

"Well, I guess I'll see you soon," I walked over to him.

I reached up to hug him. He seemed surprised at the gesture. He accepted my embrace, but it was stiff and awkward and I felt like a stranger who had crossed an electric fence he had suddenly posted around him.

"Yeah, I'll talk to you in a bit," he said.

"Okay. Bye."

(God! More tension! More tension!)

I walked myself to the door.

"Okay... um... well... See ya!"

And that was that.

I met my mom an hour an a half before the opera for brunch at Peter's. She said she had a few things she wanted to talk to me about, which turned out to be mostly money matters. She also asked me how I thought my therapy was going. I hate when my mom pokes into my personal life in any way, shape or form, and so I'm sure I got really defensive. It's just that I can't stand my compartments violated.

I ended up having a great afternoon with my mom though. We talked a lot about life in general. I always forget that my mom had another life and another self before I ever got to know her. She got married really young-- at 19. She married the "right" boy and was succumbing to all sorts of social pressures and pressures from her family. But then she decided that she couldn't do it. She wanted to be true to herself and she had to just scrap it all.

"When did you know it?" I asked her.

"It was building for a while," she said. "But I knew it when Robert Kennedy was assassinated. It devastated me. June 8th, 1968... I wanted to go to his memorial at St. Patrick's, but my husband didn't want to come and didn't understand why I wanted to go. He just didn't get it. It was the last straw."

"So what happened?" I asked.

"I was wearing a yellow dress that day," she said. "A stiff linen shirt-waist dress with large buttons. It was from an earlier era-- a Jackie-O dress. I never dressed like that again. So I left him, and I moved to Manhattan."

(My mom lived on East 23rd for a while and then on West 9th).

"But I was young and single in the city for a long time," she said. "I know it's hard to be alone like that. It always is. I used to go out sometimes on Saturday nights and wait for the early edition of the Times at the corner newsstand. I didn't go for the nightlife as much as you do. Not nearly as much. And I always had the sense that everyone else was out. The city does that to you."

"So what did your husband do when you left him?" I asked.

"He tried to kill himself," she said.

"What?"

"Yeah... And my father happened to call and took him to the hospital. He overdosed on sleeping pills or something. But he was okay."

"So, what happened?"

"Everyone was mad at me. I became the bad guy. No one talked to me for a while... including my parents. But the world was changing. And it was my moment to change with it. If I hadn't you never would have been born!" she said. "I would never have been born!"

My mom is an interesting woman. She is so strong and so smart and so loving. I really do admire her so much. I love her desperately, but half the time I feel like I don't even know her at all. Maybe it's because I won't let her know me. (Honesty).

On the way home, we started talking about my step-brother and she started to cry in the car. It scared the hell out of me. I grew up in a chaotic and violent household. My mom was my pillar of strength. No matter what was going on, my mom being okay always reassured us that things were fine; I knew that as long as she was fine, I would be fine. To see my mom cry always shakes me, as if something must be really wrong... as if the world must be on the verge of annihilation. She said that she misses my brother.

"He's still there, of course, but I miss the boy that he was," she said. "I miss that smart-alec kid who took the car out drunk. I want to see that boy again! I want to yell at that boy! The one that's here is him, but it's not. I'm watching his brain re-learn and reactivate and it's a different personality that's developing. It's a different brain. A different balance. He's using different parts of it. And because he didn't die, we never got to mourn that other boy."

I didn't know what to say.

"Of course, I can't talk to your stepfather about it," she sighed. "It's too hard."

"What's going to happen to him, mom?"

"I don't know. Who cares if he can't read. I'll be happy if he can walk and talk and shit on his own. If we can get there, he can have a life. He can have a life..."

We sat parked in the car in front of my building. I felt shaken when I got out of the car.

Shaken.

And I still do...

Anyway, that's it for now. I'm sick of typing and I have other things to do... It's slushy outside tonight. There's only one word to describe the weather-- DRIPPY! I'm going over to the Wizard's tonight to watch 24. Hope it's a good one! I still have more to tell about TT, but I'll get to that next time.

Good night!

h

PS: In keeping with my post Shining, here is a link to Brokeback to the Future (also circulating the internet with much discussion these days). Enjoy!