V is for...

Valentine's Day. It certainly went a little differently this year.

Let's backtrack for a moment to Tuesday, February 13th. I had been debating incessantly whether or not to get Narc a card or a gift or a gift and a card or no card and no gift... Finally, I could resist myself no more and I ended up getting him a card and I prepared him a gift bag of candy and an alabaster heart shaped paper weight. I figured it was innocuous enough that I wasn't making any kind of pathetic statement, but I still got to mark the occasion. After all, (my logic went), if I didn't get him anything, it would be living in his reality. If I did get him something, I would be asserting my own reality. Needless to say, we're both probably a little off the mark.

Anyway, on that Tuesday, I sped the little package down to Tribeca, braving rush hour traffic, all the while hoping that I would make it back to midtown for my meeting on time. I was embarrassed as I passed the gift off to his doorman, but once it was done, it was done. It left my stomach in knots, but there was no turning back.

The next day, it was Valentine's day and I woke up to snow flurries. Dan was stuck in town for the afternoon (as the buses to Albany had stopped running) so we made plans to meet for lunch. In the meanwhile, not a word from Narc about my present. Then, just before I left to meet Dan, he sent me a text.

Snow!! he wrote. Pity you're not here.

That was enough to send me off into a mini-tailspin. I emailed my professor that I would probably not make it to class that night and I told Narc that I would come down to see him because "luckily, class was cancelled."

While I was eating lunch, Narc left me some strange voice mail about how he felt like Henry James, staring out his window at the billowing snow flurries... except he was waiting for a delivery of Chinese food and that was sort of unlike Henry James.

Anyway, lunch with Dan was fun. I hadn't seen him in a long time, so it was an unexpected chance to catch up.

While we were eating, I sort of came to my senses and realized that I can't keep destroying my life and ignoring my commitments whenever Narc summons me. (Kind a a good realization, don't you think?). So, I texted him again and told him that in fact, my class wasn't cancelled, and that if he wanted to see me, he'd have to wait until 9:00 pm. He was "disappointed," but I felt good knowing that I did the right thing. I asked him if he ever got my valentine, as he failed to mention it.

Oh yeah, thanks hon, he wrote. I'm munching on the chocolates right now.

I hate it when he calls me "hon."

Anyway, I was really anxious after that. I spent the latter half of the afternoon in the library, preparing for class. It was a great class and I actually learned something brand new! (Not all that common at this point in the PhD). Afterwards I felt motivated and turned on and excited by learning. And I felt like myself again... my old self. My Jekyll self! It was brilliant. Not only that, but I didn't really feel like going to see Narc. I couldn't believe that I had nearly passed up such a rewarding and fulfilling learning experience to go watch Narc play video games and give him blow jobs. (Seriously-- that's pretty much what it's been reduced to these days. The spark is basically gone). The snow on the ground was piling up and I was exhausted. On top of that, Brick had sent me a text earlier asking "Will you be mine?" and I decided that I would rather meet up with him than schlep all the way down to Tribeca to see Narc.

So, I called him to tell him. He was dumbstruck.

"Wait... WHAT did you say?" he asked me repeatedly on the phone.

"I'm tired," I stammered once again. "I just think it doesn't make sense for me to come down there tonight... the snow... and I have to get up at 6:30 tomorrow. It's just not a good night for me. I'd really rather go home."

"But... But... But, I could really use some 'cheering up!'" he protested.

"I'm sorry..." I wasn't sure what to say. "I could come by tomorrow morning? After my teaching?" I countered.

"Um... sure..."

"Okay? So I've gotta go now..."

"Um... yeah, okay."

"Okay, Narc... good night."

"Yeah. Happy Valentine's Day," he said bitterly as he hung up the phone.

Such an ending to our conversation filled me with a subtle dread, but it was drowned out by my feelings of triumph and empowerment. I felt so good about having turned him down, about having new priorities, about not wanting to run there!

Anyway, that night I saw Brick (who gave me an incredibly sweet card and a stuffed animal) and the next morning I got up to teach. As promised, I left after class and headed straight to Narc's place. I got there at around 10:15 am.

He answered the door like old-school Narc-- all scruffy and rumpled and half asleep.

"I really haven't gotten up yet," he mumbled. "So, let's get back into bed."

I complied and took off my clothes and got into bed with him and we both fell asleep for another hour or two.

When we woke up, we had sex... maybe the last sex I'll ever have with him. Why do I say that? Because it didn't feel good to me anymore. In fact, I felt a little sick. Afterwards, he got up to take a shower. I could see PopStarChick's picture on his desktop from the bed. They dated for six weeks in the summer. She's been gone now for six months. Why am I still looking at her picture? I started to feel even more sick.

When Narc got out of the shower, he told me that he had to make a phone call-- something to do with his medical bills.

"I'm hungry," I said. "Do you wanna get food first?"

"No. We'll get food after I get off the phone. I don't think I'll be more than an hour."

"Okay, I guess I'll just read while I wait."

Narc went into the bedroom to make his call and I settled in on the living room couch.

I really was hungry, though, and I didn't know if I could wait the entire hour. From the living room, I could see the bag of candy that I had bought him on his kitchen counter. I decided to go for a piece of chocolate.

As I dipped into the bag, I looked for the accompanying card. It was no longer with the gift. Narc keeps all of his greeting cards on display on top of his fridge.

Maybe he put it there, I thought.

I looked through the cards-- most of them were from Christmas and New Year's. A few of them were "get well" cards from the fall.

Maybe he just didn't want to put mine out. He doesn't really talk to his friends about me. Who knows... maybe it was embarrassing. Maybe he put it somewhere else for safe keeping.

I opened the cabinet under the sink to toss my chocolate wrapper, when what did I see? My Valentine had been callously cast into the garbage. I picked it out. It had coffee stains all over it. I felt my heart swelling up and sinking. But other than that, I don't even know what I was feeling. I felt numb and sick all at the same time. I took the Valentine and put it in my bag. Then I sat down on the couch and kept reading, trying to ignore the sick pangs in my stomach.

But, I couldn't.

I texted Hammer to tell her what happened.

Get out of there, right now! she said.

I can't, I protested. What will I say? How will I explain it?

Hammer told me that I don't owe him any explanation, and that if I didn't want to be there, I should leave. Eventually, she convinced me, coaching me through it. I left him a note.

I had to go, I wrote. Call me later. -H-

And then I took off, my heart throbbing in my chest.

I headed up to the West Village to meet Hammer for lunch. I was so overwhelmed by the morning's events that I nearly blocked them out and Hammer and I had a really good time.

About two hours later, I got a text from Narc:

Where'd you go? I got off the phone and saw your note. Is everything OK?

Yes, I'm okay, I answered. Just felt like leaving.

K, he said.

It was strange. A strange, strange exchange.

The rest of the day was rough for me. I went to therapy and then went to AA. I got to my meeting really early and wanted to isolate, so I hid out in the stairwell for a while until it started. A girl that I'm sort of friends with found me there and we ended up having a really good chat. Perhaps more on that later.

And that is pretty much that. He threw my Valentine in the garbage.

On the Friday that followed, I thought I might lose my mind. I really wanted to drink. Luckily, Bezoukhoff was in my neighborhood and we ended up going to see Sonic Vision at the planetarium and eating S'mores at Max Brenner's and then hitting the piano bars with Brick until the wee hours of the night.

Later in the weekend, I started to feel sick. And then, this entire week I was stuck home in bed with that awful cold.

In any case, I haven't seen Narc since I left his house that day. I know it's only been 10 days or so, but it feels like a mini-eternity. We spoke on the phone once for about an hour (which I blogged about here) and we've texted on and off all week long. On Tuesday night, we were both watching American Idol and I kept flooding him with texts, for which I apologized, telling him that I was merely "starved for interaction" from my sick bed.

Aww...! No worries hon, text all you want, he wrote.

Weird...

On Wednesday night I emerged from bed to meet my mom, my sisters and some family friends for dinner-- KW was in town visiting from San Francisco (some of you might remember that I went to her wedding there in August, '05). She and her brother, AW met us in Times Square. It was wonderful to see them, but a little torturous for me, as I still felt like hell.

On Thursday night, Narc and I were texting again.

By the way, more world-conquering news... he wrote.

Hyde: What???

Narc: ---- magazine just announced the top 30 scripts of the year and my script made the list!! Winner announced soon, Grand Prize, here we come...! But then, was there ever any doubt?

Hyde: Yay!!! No doubt from me. I'm so proud of you. Send me the link to the site! I wanna see...

Narc: Just sent email.

Hyde: Cool. I'm in bed now, but will check it in the morning. This is so exciting...!!

Narc: Pffft! You already checked! I'd check you if you made top 30 opera/teacher/historian etc. (poke poke)

What??? What did that mean? I didn't even know how to respond to that last remark, so guess what? I didn't! And that ended that conversation.

I think Narc must be wondering whether I've lost my mind with the way I've been acting lately. First, I didn't come to see him on Valentine's Day, next I left him with no explanation on the day following Valentine's day, and here I am cutting off our conversations!

On Friday I had an emotionally rough day for a whole slew of other reasons. I texted Narc that night.

What's up? I wrote.

He never answered. I'm not surprised. He is probably going to punish me for a while.

Yesterday I went to go see Eugene Onegin with my mom. It was an amazing production and the singers were phenomenal-- Rene Flemming, Ramon Vargas and Dmitri Hvorostovsky (who incidentally looked really hot bare-chested, even all the way from the balcony!).

During the first act, Tatyana pours her heart out writing a love letter to the disaffected, narcissistic, nobleman Onegin. Onegin's response?

Believe me, I give you my word, marriage would be a torment for us... Learn to control your feelings; …… Not everyone will understand you as I do. Inexperience leads to disaster!

My mom turned to whisper to me.

"He threw her valentine in the garbage," she said.

Later, Onegin talks about how he is filled with self-disgust. And by the third act:

I'm bored here too. The brilliance and bustle of society cannot dispel my constant world‑weariness! Having killed my best friend in a duel, having no aim, no work, I have reached the age of twenty‑six wearied by the idleness of leisure; without employment, wife or occupation, I've found nothing to which I could devote myself!

At that point, Onegin decides that he has finally fallen in love with Tatyana, who by then has already married a rich prince who is madly in love with her. Onegin tries to seduce her. But she's too smart for him. She tells him:

At that time, I suppose, in the back of beyond, far from the frivolity of social gossip, you didn't find me attractive. Why, then,do you pursue me now? Why am I the object of such attentions? Could it be because I now frequent the highest circles, because I am rich and of the nobility, because my husband, wounded in battle, enjoys, on that account, the favour of the court? Could it not be that my disgrace would now be generally remarked and would confer upon you the reputation of a seducer?

Forgetting all about Tatyana's declarations of love for him in the first act, Onegin cries out:

If you only knew how terrible it is to suffer love's torments!

Typical narcissism, no?

Anyway, by the end of the opera, she admits that she still loves him and that his return has aroused a whole slew of confusing feelings, but she's grown up and she doesn't want him anymore.

Onegin is left to lament: Ignominy! … Anguish! …Oh, my pitiable fate!

What a fitting opera!

And that is where I am left.

Only one thing is different (and I can't believe I'm about to write this):

I THINK I HAVE FALLEN OUT OF LOVE.

I really think I have.

I think (I think?) that I don't love Narc anymore, nor do I hate him.

Writing this blog has felt like a bit of a strain to me this week. I don't know anything clearly enough to write it down. I may take a break from blogging for a while... maybe forever... maybe I won't take a break at all. But, for the first time, I've had the urge to end this blog.

I want to close a chapter in my life. It's closing on it's own.

V is for... victory?