Cabaret and Obstacles

Disclaimer: I just shot off this post and the next with no editing or spell checking. I'm too tired to do it right now, so forgive any mistake of that nature...

I feel very strange this morning. I have a lot of work to do, but I feel like I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. Last night was a Hyde-miracle: it was a Friday night, but I went to bed early! I guess I just haven't felt like myself since the big flush. I suspect this will pass in another few days, but there's an enormous lump in my stomach. Plus, I haven't been out drinking since Tuesday. I've almost made it through a whole week. Without the excitement, I feel much more tired. Maybe I'm always this tired, but mask it with other things. I guess I should be tired. I missed a whole night of sleep on Tuesay and I slept really poorly on Thursday too. (I was expecting Narc to call, but he didn't...)

This has been a week filled with the Weimar Republic. On Thursday night B and I went to see one of my favorite performers doing a whole night of Kurt Weill at the Carlyle Cafe, and last night Hammer and I went to the Neue Galerie to catch their exhibit on the Comic Grotesque. Both events were fabulous. B and I ran into some of our old-school conflicts though on our night out. The event was supposed to be a "birthday-redo." He wanted to take me out for my birthday in December, but I just wasn't up for it, nor did I have the time. Some of you may recall that things in December were even crazier than they've been the past month or so. Not only was I in the middle of grading, studying for finals and writing papers, but I had that extremely awful incident (which I won't go into) two days before my birthday, and that unpleasant incident in Cheers the following week. Plus, on my actual birthday Narc was such an asshole to me that it prompted me to "try" to break up with him the next day (our "official" breakup came six days later). Bottom line--I wanted to wait to celebrate my birthday until the air cleared and I felt a bit better.

So we went to see Ute Lemper at the Carlyle for her special Thursday night program, "A Walk on the Weill Side." I was so excited! B was a little late to meet me, so I sat and waited in my lobby reading a book. Guess who walked by? 14thFloorBoy! Well, some of you may not know who that is. Basically, he moved into my building (onto the 14th floor) this fall. I met him at Cheers one night and we ended up hooking up. I liked him and pursued it a little bit, but for various reasons I won't go into, it didn't work out. Anyway, I always seem to run into him when I'm in my grungiest moments. Last night, however, I was looking very glamorous, so I was very happy for the encounter. He asked where I was going all dressed up, so I told him about the concert. It gave me an opportunity to talk about what I'm studying in school, music, and other things. Maybe he'll stop thinking I'm such a coke-head. (Not like it matters though...)

We went out for sushi first, which I treated for because the concert was pretty expensive. When we got to the Carlyle, B was a little uncomfortable. It was a pretty swanky place, with jackets required for gentlemen. It was also a very small intimate setting with tables placed closely together and he said that he felt claustrophobic. He said that the waiters kept bumping into him. I, on the other hand, absolutely loved the place. Of course I imagined traveling through time back into the 1920s (which made me remember emptying my "snuff box" that morning. Oh!) Anyway, B had a plethora of other gripes which I don't particularly feel like recounting. The bottom line is that he was complaining a lot. When the check came he got even more upset and without saying anything, put on a show of body language that he was very unhappy. I can't tolerate it when he's unhappy and had been trying to cheer him up the entire time. I held his hand to sooth him and offered to switch seats several times when he looked uncomfortable. None of it worked. I began to get more and more distressed, and less and less able to concentrate on the performance. By the end of the evening, both of us were pretty upset.

We walked outside into the blasting wind to look for a place to get coffee after the show. He complained of being freezing. I pointed out that I was probably colder because I was in a skirt with no stockings. He inisisted that he was colder because he's not "built for this weather" like I am. (He's from a much warmer climate).
"Fine," I said. "So you're the more misearable one. You've had the worse evening. Is there anything else that could possibly be worse? I'm sorry you've had such an awful time!"
Instead of telling me that he didn't have an awful time, he said "that's okay..."
Right about then, I just about lost it. I felt like I never should have asked for anything for my birthday and like I am just an absolute burden to him and to everyone else. I'm sure my upset was compounded by the fact that Narc has been treating me like shit, but I couldn't help it...I just wanted something sweet for my birthday and here I was trying to cater to him the entire night and feeling like shit about myself at the end of it.

I started to cry and tell him that I'm sick of this happening between us all the time.
"Fine," he said. "I think I should just go home."
"Fine!" I said. "Go home!"
I turned to walk in the opposite direction.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"Fuck you! I'm going out."
I think that made him nervous because we had just discussed my new resolution not to drink. It was really hard for me to avoid ordering a drink during the show, and here I was telling him to fuck off because I was going out. I don't know if I was intending to drink. I didn't even think that far ahead. He told me I was being dramatic (hmm...is he channeling Narc? I hate boys who use that as an excuse to invalidate my feelings. I was expressing myself in a very dramatic way, but that doesn't mean that the point I was making wasn't rational!). Anyway, he convinced me to get coffee with him. At that point my teeth were chattering and I was shaking from the cold.

Over coffee, we both calmed down a bit. He told me that even if he was being cranky and hated the whole evening that it's not my responsibility to make him happy. I shouldn't have internalized it like that and judged myself as a failure because he had a bad night. He's right. I do tend to do that and am always trying to please the boys that I'm with. But on the other hand, he should have just sucked it up, stopped acting like a baby and had a good time with me on my birthday-redo! We didn't get very far with the conversation and kind of changed the subject...

By the time I got home that night I was exhausted and fell asleep shortly after midnight. Like I said though, I was expecting a Narc-call (he usually does on Thursday) so I slept lightly all night and kept waking up in the middle of the night. It sucked.

On Friday I got up and went to the ATM only to realize I have just $5.00 in my bank account until a check clears on Tuesday. Shit! Now I regret throwing my money around on drugs and booze last week. I went down to Tribeca to sign up for a boxing class that I'll be starting in two weeks. I think it'll be good for me to do something totally different, and good for my body. Maybe it will help me get out all of my fustration and repressed agression as well. The boxing gym happens to be only two blocks from where Narc lives. I texted him to see if he wanted to get lunch or just say hi, but of course, he completley ignored me and didn't respond. So I walked uptown into the village and found a cafe where I sat and read for a few hours. That evening, Hammer and I met up for the exhibit at Neue Galerie. It was really cool. A lot of the pieces were things that I had seen in my German Modernism class last semester. Plus I have been really into George Grosz for the past few months (still working on finishing his autobiography) and there were a lot of Grosz works there. We browsed the bookstore and had a lot of fun in general. From there we walked over to Third Avenue and found a place for dinner and gossip. I cut my finger on the chair and it was gushing for a while.

We had originally planned to watch a movie or something afterwards, but were both so tired we decided to go home. While I really wanted to come home, part of me was dying to go out. You know that Cheers is right on my corner. When I walked by on the way into my building, it took every ounce of strength that I have to walk past. It's like a magnet for me and I had to resist it's pull. Once I was home, I was glad to be here, but it was still hard. It's so strange...

This morning I woke up depressed. I don't know why. It reminds me of when I was depressed last Saturday. Let's hope today goes better. I have a voice lesson in the early evening (to make up for my Wednesday fuck-up) so that will keep me a little grounded. There's another mystery that's been bothering me though. From Tuesday night when I went out late, my cell phone shows an incoming call from a mysterious number at 1:45 am. Then it shows an outgoing call from my phone to that number at 2:20 am. I have no recollection of this. Then, the next day I got a call from the same number at 11:45 pm, but didn't pick up the phone. The person didn't leave a message. I really want to know who it is! I tried calling the number back from a blocked phone in hopes of getting an answering machine with a name, but a male voice picked up, and I hung up. Hammer is going to try to help me crack the mystery. God damn memory loss! Let's hope I've seen the last of those days.

Ughh...my next door neighbor just knocked on my door and asked if I wanted to go in for a purchase of some weed. Life is a fucking obstacle course!

Goodbye...

Goodbye "medicine" days... Goodbye "youthful indiscretions."

This morning I deleted all contact information to prevent future purchase and flushed what I had left.
It hurt.
It was at least $120 worth.
I saw billowing clouds in the toilet water.
I feel sick.

Try and Try Again.

I've calmed down a little bit since this morning and am not feeling quite as awful. Just awfully disappointed in myself and physically wrecked. I should have trusted my judgement and stayed in for Mardi Gras. Yet another example of Jekyll thought/Hyde action. Why am I such an idiot? When will I ever learn?

Anyway, here's how the evening went:

I had a ton of Mardi Gras beads saved from the trip to New Orleans spring break of Junior year, so I pulled a few strands to give to IrishBird. When I got to Cheers, FightingMensch was hanging out at the bar. I haven't seen him as much lately because he just got a big job promotion. When I have seen him he's been tired and dressed in a three-piece suit instead of his usual t-shirt and jeans. A few weeks ago he told me I should stay off the "medicine" and since then, there's been a strange vibe between us. It's almost as if he's given up on me doing the right thing. (Remember, he hates Narc as well for reasons I've mentioned in previous posts.)

Anyway, the Nigerians were back and this time with a friend from out of town. The new Nigerian guy immediately started talking to me. I ordered a jack and diet and was trying to hang out at the bar because I really came to see IrishBird, but he asked if I would join him at a table. I told him I'd rather stay by the bar because I wanted another drink. (5 minutes in and first 2 down the hatch). He asked if I would come talk to him after I ordered my second drink. It was a bit of an akward situation so I just agreed. Now, I don't know where I find these super intense men. He told me that from the moment he saw me he knew that I was a "kind spirit" and that there is a "strong connection" between us. Conversation with him wasn't as difficult as with PakistaniMan, and I was having a decent time. (2 more drinks down the hatch) He is a doctor and does some kind of work with public health and the global community. At one point I got up to go restroom and when I came back he had written me a note which he pressed into my hand. He had scribbled something about love at first sight. I felt like it was a little creepy and I was starting to tire of the conversation and wanted to get out of the whole thing. I told him that I wasn't interested because I have a romance going on with someone else (I wish...), but he took my hand and kissed it. I was pretty uncomfortable. On top of that, he didn't even spell my name right in the note. (1 more drink down).

By that time it was almost 1:00. I told him I had to head home because I had to teach early the next morning. He asked me for my contact information and because I didn't feel like dealing with saying no, I gave him a fake number. Then he asked when he could see me again. I told him I would be at Cheers the next night at around 10:00 (which I SO won't!). His companions wanted to head home as well. I said goodnight and told him that I wanted to stay behind a few minutes and gossip with IrishBird (anything to avoid being walked to my door.) IrishBird told him jokingly that if he lays a hand on me, she'll kill him. Yet another friend foolishly fighting to preserve my honor. (Remember your promise to duel Narc, Bezukhoff!) I had a great time talking to IrishBird. We talked about music and as she's never heard me sing opera, but only pop-karaoke, she asked me to sing a note. I did just that (and quite loudly too), and the last stragglers at the bar all turned around. I think that PumpedUp's dad (the propreitor) was especially shocked. (Yet another drink down).

IrishBird asked if I wanted to go for a drink with her after they closed up. I agreed (although I shouldn't have. What happened to teaching?) We went to Manchester Pub where my good ol' friend Sean Duffy was working. (The guy I "medicated" with on Jan 26th) IrishBird talked to all of the Irish workers at Manchester about their Irish roots. She and I girl-talked and bonded and drank a bit more. (4 more drinks down. I think we're up to 10 now. This is where I started to lose count and memory. By the end of the night, I must have been up to 15 or so.) At some point IrishBird left because she was tired, but I insisted on staying out. (Oh, Hyde...) I ended up talking to two Australians, Matt and Phil. (I've seen Phil at Manchester a few times since Jan 20th. Matt claimed to have met me and conversed with me before. If that's true, I have no recollection of it.) The night gets blurry at about that point.

One way or another we transitioned from the pub to my living room and lost Phil along the way. Matt and I stayed up the entire night doing "medicine" and talking. He had never tried it before, so while I'm glad I could give him his first experience, I felt a little guilty about it. Anyway, it was a lot of fun. He has a girlfriend of 5 years, so there was no sexual weirdness, only good conversation. And he really liked my cat. (That always wins points with me!) But as the hours ticked by, higher and higher we went. I did so much. Suddenly I realized it was 7:00 am and I was off my rocker.

Now this was not a good situation. I was supposed to teach at 9:30 and there was no way that I would be able to come down sufficiently by then. I told Matt he should probably go while I did my best to get myself into a more normal mental state. I took a shower (which was very difficult...I was hardly walking) and haphazardly blow-dried my hair. I only had to get through teaching and then my voice lesson at 12:00. That's what I kept telling myself. But things started to get worse. I get really bad come-downs and I felt the crash beginning. I layed down on my bed for a few minutes and the room was pulsing. I don't have the words to describe the kind of awful awful crashing that I get, so I won't even try. The bottom line is that my eyes were blurred, I could hardly walk, my head was pounding, my heart was beating hard and my mood was spiraling out of control. There was no fucking way I could teach. I hate myself for that. Narc was right. I am an unfit teacher. I can't fucking believe I let this happen!

I called in sick to the department and asked them to post a sign for my class. Then I called and rescheduled my voice lesson for Saturday. As I was speaking, my voice seemed a million miles away. My head seemed to be floating above my body in the air. My entire being tottered on the brink of collapse. I crawled into bed shaking and curled into a ball. My mood was worse and worse. I started to cry and just feel plain suicidal. I know it was all a chemical thing and that was comforting in a way, but I didn't know what to do. I called B.

I think that he heard the urgency in my voice. He told me to get out of bed and to meet him where he was. He had to teach two classes, but I could sit in on them. That way I wouldn't have to be alone. I wasn't sure if I could even get to where he was without collapsing, but it was worth the try. I managed to pick up a bagel and meet him at his office. I was still coming down so hard. By this point it was 10:30 or so. I don't think he's ever seen me like that. I couldn't stop crying. My head was just flooded with sadness. I looked god damn awful. I don't think he ever wants to see me like that again.

His first class was at 11:00. I had to pull myself together to look moderately presentable in front of the other students. I kept my eyes lowered to the floor so they wouldn't notice the red rims, my puffy eyelids and my sharply dialated pupils. I started to feel a little better about midway through the class. My mood was stabilizing and the fog started to clear from my brain and my eyes. By the middle of his second class (around 12:30 or so), I had fully come down off the drugs and felt back to my usual self. (Well, maybe just a little more tired than usual!)

After his classes we waited around for a while because B had to do an office hour and then we went out to get lunch. I totally skipped my research seminar, which I feel guilty about, but not enough guilty enough to get me there. I just needed a "personal day" today. I told B that I'm deleting the "medicine man's" numbers from my cell phone and my address book. I'm done with this. I don't ever ever ever want "medicine" again. And I think I have to deal with my drinking issues a little more head on. I don' t want to turn into my dad, and I clearly can't keep my drinking under control once I start. B urged me to just take it one day at a time, so that's what I'm going to do. Try and try again, right? Today is a day without drink. Yay! One down!

Not to leave any blog-entry without mention of Narc, there's a bit more to say on that topic as well. Last night while I was out I got a text from Narc (at around midnight).

He wrote: Out in W Village briefly if you want to talk. Else deadline til Sat.

I called him right away, but he didn't pick up his phone. Then I texted him (thinking maybe it was noisy where he was), but I got no response. A half hour later or so, I texted him again:

Hey N, I'm heading out for after-hours. Give me a call now, or not at all.

I was annoyed to be waiting for his call all night, you know? The weird thing is that he NEVER called. Why would he write to me saying he's in the village and wants to hang out and then disappear? Was it another game? As I became increasingly inebriated, I called him several more times up until around 2:00 am when I gave up. He had me so fucking confused. So far, pretty typical. Here's the interesting thing though: He wrote to me today and apologized!

He said: Sorry I left you hanging. Ended up going home and to bed right after I texted you. Talk later.

Well, whether or not it's true that he sent a text inviting me out and then dashed off to bed, this is a clear sign of some measure of consideration of my feelings. What a triumph! I know it's pathetic to be happy about an act of common decency, but I am. It's brightened an otherwise self-loathing day.

That's it for now. B just arrived. My apartment looks trashed from last night's revels and he said "it looks like Hud's been through here." He always knows how to make me laugh. Now I'm cracking up. I love Paul Newman! I love Hud! I love B too!

Good night for now...

Awful!

Okay, It's official...... I'm officially an AWFUL person. If you want to know why, I'll have to explain later, or else it will just become evident....

ughhhh......

Anxious and Hyde Duke it Out! (pow! pow!)

Today I'm exhausted, but in a good way. I was very productive in terms of school work, and managed to iron out the whole situation with Anxious. Actually, yesterday was a pretty good day too. I guess I'll start there...

After teaching on Monday morning I had a great voice lesson. My muscles and chords are still weaker than they were, but I think that all vocal injuries are healed and that just makes me happy! Since B and I were both on the Upper West Side in the afternoon, I met up with him for a half hour or so for some lunch. Then I walked down to 72nd street and did some very unecessary shopping before heading to school. At school, I looked up review articles in the library for a while--still trying to formulate a paper topic for my big project.

That evening, B met me at my place around 7:00 for another week of 24. Since he was here a few hours early, we took turns playing music for each other. ("Wanna share?") His latest obsession--Tchaikovsky. It's kind of funny because he is SUCH a Brahmsian and all about inwardness and brainy counterpoint. Tchaikovsky is much more in my emotional milieu (especially that Pathetique!), but I guess it's hard for anyone to resist a pounding tympani and a hundred violins playing a sweeping melody all in unison. At least, I can't fathom resistance... We had a lot of fun. I don't know why I was so hyper and in such a good mood, but I started to dance around the apartment as if I were in a grand ballet or ice-dancing in the Olympics. We were acting pretty silly, but it was good for the soul--especially in light of all the pining away (a la Narc) that I've been doing lately. Finally, it was time for 24. Yet another smashing episode, but without the punch of the Almeida suprise from last week. Still, I had to deal with the Anxious situation though...

I asked B to help me write a letter. I can be such a pushover (or "doormat" as B likes to put it) but he definitely has more of an angry edge, especially when it comes to defending me. My first email attempt was a pretty wishy-washy draft, but he sat down with me and helped me say what I really needed to say. VJ had given me some pretty brilliant advice on how to approach the situation, but it was manipulative girl advice and B thought it was too passive agressive. He said it was better to just be honest. In any event, the resulting email (along with the subsequent correspondence) is too lengthy to include here in full, but to make a long story short, I told Anxious that she's "too often made comments that I've found insensitive at best and insulting at worst." I told her that I feel like she's "been passive-aggressive and competitive," that "I want to be a good friend to her, but I've just found it a strain to spend time with her lately," and that a change in our relationship is partially just "natural" as we're both going through transitions these days. It was a lot more detailed and included some examples, but you get the general point... I was so nervous to send it. In fact, after I hit "send," I was almost in tears. I just didn't want to be mean to her or to have her angry at me.

This morning when I woke up, I dreaded checking my inbox. Surely enough, she had written back. Her response was appropriately apologetic and she acknowledged making nasty comments about my "crazy" life, but the overall tone of her letter was still hyper-critical of me. Basically, she framed her apology in a way in which she apoligized for offending me while pointing out that I must have been offended because I am "oversensitive" and "insecure" and just a general mess. She promised to try to be more sensitive to my problems without acknowledging any of her own. She also told me how sad she's been lately and implied that I've been a disloyal and shitty friend. Putting me down in such a wide variety of passive agressive ways in an apology letter constituted the very type of offense I was upset about to being with. She seems to have mastered the skill after much practice.

I wrote back to her right away, telling her that while I appreciated her apology, she totally missed the point. I told her that the tension between us has nothing to do with what she perceives to be my "insecurities." Instead, it stems from her insecurities masked as competition and hostility. I pointed out the various ways in which her last email was insulting. Finally (for the VJ touch), I told her that "If she's really crying every day, maybe she should talk her problems out with a professional." While you all know I don't think there's anything wrong with that (in fact, most people should give it a try--it helps), I knew the comment would really irk her.

After that, I wanted to put the issue bed. After all, I had woken up early to get some work done before class. However, just a few minutes later, my phone rang. It was Anxious and she was in tears. She told me that "everyone is leaving her" and she "can't afford to lose me too" because I'm "like her best friend and her sister." (Tug, tug at my heart strings!) I told her that I wasn't leaving her, but that this had to be addressed. The conversation, again, was too long to detail here, but the bottom line is that I held my ground and made my points. (Hooray for Hyde! Standing up for herself!) I told her that we need to have a relationship as peers--as equals. I'm not interested in having another big sister. I also told her that her anxious external persona is obviously unnatural and makes it difficult for others to feel natural and open and comfortable around her. Maybe I was a little harsh, but I've been holding this stuff in for so long and someone has to tell her how other people perceive her!

In the end, she was asking me to forgive her and sounding a little pathetic. I felt bad. The point was not to break her down or to make her feel bad or threaten to take myself out of her life, especially when she's going through a break-up! So I assured her that I am still here for her, and that I love her and that we'll probably both feel better after our get-together on Sunday. I hope that she stops with the competitive bullshit and that I actually can have a good time with her like I used to. We just have to "re-negotiate our relationship." (Does that phrase sound familiar to anyone? Those of you around from my pre-blog days might remember that Narc used the exact same phrase with me back in November... Ughhh..."Always on my Mind")

Anyway, all seems to be at least temporarily resolved with Anxious. But because of all the time and energy I spent on her this morning, I didn't get my reading done as planned. I had to race to school and try to pull everything off quickly before class. But because I'm Hyde and I'm an expert at pulling things off and getting myself out of time-management jams (again, practice makes perfect!), I managed to do everything. Yay!

After class Hammer and I bummed around at the library for a while. Now I'm back home "kicking it" with my cat and waiting for American Idol to start. I'm dying to go out for a bit tonight for Mardi Gras, but it's probably not a good idea (I don't think I need to explain why). Oh, I forgot to mention the other day--on Saturday I lost my amethyst yet again. Sadness! But I quickly recovered when on Monday I bought two beautiful amethyst pendants instead. I think it's wise for me to wear my crystals around my neck instead of carrying them in my pocket. Hammer thinks this whole situation is hysterical--that I carry crystals that protect from drunkeness and keep losing them while drunk! Oh well... I've always been one for foolish illusions. (If you don't believe me, think of my "love" for Narc.)

Anyway, I'm getting a little hungry, so I think I'll go rummage through my empty kitchen and see what I can come up with for dinner.

Kiefer Says: "There's Only One Person I Can Trust..."

Is it Hyde??? No... it's Almeida. :(

How to be a Good Friend?

Okay, readers--I need some help today with a friendship dilemma. The basic problem: I'm torn between wanting to be a good friend and not wanting to be stuck hanging out with someone I'd really rather avoid right now. Let me explain.

A long-time friend of mine, (let's just call her "Anxious"), has been majorly on my nerves. While she's always been a bit abrasive, things got much worse starting in the summer. This summer she ended an eight year relationship and quit her job, flying to Europe for a few months. Before she broke up with her boyfriend she found a new guy because she is one of those women who can't be alone for two seconds. (One of the reasons it really bothers me when she tries to offer me advice about my love life...I mean, she doesn't even have the guts to be single!) Anway, while she appears to be an extrovert (and talks a mile a minute), in reality, she's a very private person who always wears a social mask and insists on keeping a "cheerful" disposition. The problem is that her cheer is often forced and instead of cheer, she exudes a manic anxiety, becoming very stressful to be around. She is obsessed with appearing as if she has her life completely "together" and will never express anxiety, fear or self-doubt to her friends except for the extreme situation. She is often secretive. For example, although we've been friends for almost ten years, I didn't know anything about her plans to drastically uproot her life this summer until they were already in motion.

The other thing you should know about her personality is that she is extremely opinionated and has no qualms about putting in her two-cents on anything and everything (whether or not its welcome). Usually, she has something negative to say. For example, when I was thinking about getting a cat a few years ago, she went on for hours (in her manic speed-talk) telling me about how none of my friends would ever want to come to my apartment again because of cat hair and allergies. Meanwhile, it was only her boyfriend that was allergic and she didn't want to have to deal with his allergies at my parties. (She also overwhelmed me with hours of speeches and emails about how I would eternally regret getting a tattoo, which I don't think I ever will). She loves to dish out advice, especially when it concerns my love life, emotional problems or "risky-behavior." That gets kind of old from someone who never opens up about their own problems, but has no trouble telling you what you should do and where you went wrong. I mean, I fully acknowledge that I engage in behavior that's not always in my best interest, but who wants a know-it-all (who hasn't lived in my shoes) to tell where, when and why I've fucked things up. Whether she's right or wrong, she's not my therapist, it's not her business, and it just doesn't feel very good.

We first became friends when I was just 17 and she was 20. At the time, she seemed worldly-wise and I was an innocent. (Can you all remember that far back?) I didn't mind her advice then because she seemed to know so much more about people and because it was "big sisterly" in nature. Now that I'm a grown woman, I've been around the block a few times, have lived in worlds and met people that she doesn't understand and can't really imagine and I'm tired of her opinions; I've outgrown her advice. Does this make any sense?

Anyway, all of this is background to the current dilemma. She and I both had an unusal summer. While Anxious was more anxious than ever about her drastic life-changes, I started to party a lot more than I had been for the previous few years. Hyde really came out of the box. Before that, from the summer of 2000 until B and I broke up for good in 2002, I had been pretty stable and pretty "safe." From 2002-2004 I was still tied up with the B thing, and depressed and not in the mood to party or put myself out there much. There's a lot of reasons that changed and that I started acting out, a lot of it to do with emotional stuff between me and B, and I really don't want to go into all that right now. But the point is, that my interactions with Anxious became characterized more and more by her preaching to me about what I was doing wrong, and "competing" with me in a passive agressive way. I started to get annoyed.

When she got back from Europe, it got even worse. I'm not the only one who's found her manic anxiety and uncontrolled criticism to be insufferable. Other friends have commented as well. For the past six years or so, I have felt like she "competes" with me in her own mind. This has also gotten a lot worse the past few months. I don't know why she's jealous of me, but in the past most of her "competition" has focused around her trying to make it seem like she has a crazy sex-life. (I couldn't care less what my friend's sex lives are like, you know?) Whatever it is, it obviously stems from insecurity and jealousy, but it's very annoying. The past few months it's taken the more particular form of focusing on her recent weight loss. She's obsessed with talking about her body and it gets rather dull. When she makes passive-agressive (or just plain agressive!) jabs at me, I have difficulty defending myself. I usually just ignore them because I'm not the type to pick a fight or stand up for myself. Usually I just get upset and internalize it and try to avoid her. Her reasons for these attacks often have me completely bewildered. I'm far from perfect and have my own set of insecurities, and it's difficult to be criticized by a "competitive" friend so frequently.

Not one for confrontation I really have started dodging her calls and emails. If she calls me, I wait a few days and then call her back, telling her that I've been busy. If she tries to make plans, I tell her that I'm too busy with school and teaching. This has been going on for a few months. Most recently, she sent me some pictures of herself in a new bikini and of her the guy she's been seeing. I didn't respond.

It's hard to tell her what she's doing wrong because often times, these things are hard to explain and don't seem clear cut. For example, one weekend in October, she stayed at my apartment, insisting on walking around unclothed all the time. She is obsessed with her large-breast size and at one point picked up one of my bras that was laying around and looked at the tag to check out the size. I asked her what she was doing and she pretended to be looking at the brand, commenting that it was a pretty bra. (Please, it was a plain cotton bra...) Later in the same weekend, she came rushing into my house after a shopping trip, stripping off her shirt and her bra because she was "hot." (Ladies, have you ever had to go bare-breasted in October because it's too "hot" out?) I asked her if she wanted me to turn on the airconditioner to help her with her sudden "hot-flash" and she went over to lean on the radiator, thrusting her breasts forward. I had to pretend to ignore the whole thing, and quietly resumed grading papers. I mean, can you think of a more childish level on which to compete with a friend? She's also obessed with talking about my dietary restrictions (for an insulin problem). She has repeatedly claimed that she would "die" if she had to follow the same restrictions, and frequently tries to start conversations on the subject. I can't imagine what her aim is, except to make me feel bad and find a basis for her own "superiority." But it's hard to point these things out when they happen, and like I said--I'm always looking to avoid confrontation.

Another thing that's really turned me off to her is an incident that took place shortly after she returned from her summer travels. She and two other college friends stayed over my place one weekend. They all came home early, but I stayed out drinking pretty late. When I did return, I was walked home by a guy from the bar. We made out on the roof of my building for a little bit and then he walked me back to my apartment. Maybe this was "shocking" to my square friends, but their stick-up-the-ass response was to tell me that I was a bad friend because "not only was I risking myself, but I put their lives at risk as well." (A little dramatic, n'est pas?) If they really did find my behavior to be life-threatning, instead of showing concern and support for me, they were critical and judgemental, got up on a moral high-horse and made it all about them. They put me down for being a "bad friend" to them. I mean, what the fuck did it have to do with them anyway? Whatever, before I get mad about this whole thing all over again, I should continue with the dilemma at hand.

Sunday morning (at Narc's place) I checked my email and found the following message from Anxious. (The subject heading was "Mad").

Hyde,

I'm a little bit mad at you. As you know, I've always counted you among my very best friends. We've been very close for years and had a lot of fun together. But lately, I feel like I don't hear from you, don't see you, and don't get much of a sense that you particularly care what's going on with me. That's a really lousy feeling. Close friends make time for each other and make an effort to keep up with what's happening in each other's lives. We live close enough that we could see each other all the time if we made any kind of effort. I've been in the city every weekend since August, but we haven't spent any time one-on-one since September. You texted me a couple of times in October to say we should make a plan to get together, but you never offered any concrete dates or times or ideas. And every time I've suggested a particular time, not only does it not work for you, but you never counter-propose a date -- if you respond at all. I feel like I've called and called and tell you I miss you and propose plans and get a brusque, belated response. I also don't hear from you much generally. I know we're all busy. But I used to get long, chatty e-mails from you -- not every day like when we had more time years ago, but somewhat frequently. Now I get the odd text, which is not all that satisfying. I don't think I've ever picked up the phone here and heard your voice. So I feel really out of touch, like I don't know what's going on with you, and I miss the casual closeness of regular e-mails.

I sent you an invite to join MSN messenger so we could IM now and then; I know you do messenger because you discovered my silly screen name. But you never responded to my invite.

And I've sent a bunch of e-mails lately with photos and a suggestion for a girls' night and haven't heard a word in response. I don't mean to sound like a jealous lover, but I feel like lately you've given total priority to the people who are closest and most convenient. You see VJ all the time, even though she's not half the friend I've been to you, just because she's right in the city. I know you have a new best friend -- don't remember her name, but I met her at your birthday party -- whom you see a lot at school. I know you've said over the years that you really like having friends who are right in the city whom you can just get together with at the drop of a hat, and I agree that's nice. But you've always made an effort in the past to get together with me, even though I haven't been fortunate enough to be able to live in Manhattan. I'm not asking you to schlep to wherever I live. I'm in the city all the time and it shouldn't take 6 months to find time for a drink or an afternoon of shopping. I don't know what's going on with you.

You might be having some kind of turbulent, crazy time that explains all this. I wish I knew. All I do know is I feel really blown off during a period in my life when I need my friend Hyde most.

Love,
Anxious

Let the guilt trip begin!
Have I been a been a very bad friend to her? Has she been needing me and I've been ignoring her? Am I a hypocrite for every time I've been annoyed at a friend who hasn't been there for me? Am I a shitty person? I didn't know how to respond or explain. I mean, how do you tell someone that you've been avoiding them because you find them judgemental, stressful, hostile, competitive, passive agressive, generally unenjoyable and certainly unbearable without hurting their feelings?

I composed a really long email trying to explain some of it, but held off on sending it. I didn't want to start a war. I'm glad I waited though, because despite my silence, this morning I received a second message:

Hyde,

I've been thinking and I didn't mean to be so harsh. It's just that I miss you and need your friendship and feel hurt that you haven't made time for me. But I know you've got a busy life. Listen, I'm having a really hard week. XXXXX broke up with me.

Please write back. I love you.
Anxious

Now I was really feeling guilty. I wrote back immediately, telling her I'm so sorry that I hurt her feelings and that if she needs me, I'm here for her. I told her that we should make plans right away for this weekend and that I'm very sorry about her breakup. In a few following emails, she thanked me for responding and told me that she does "kind of need to talk," but that I "know that's difficult" for her. She asked if she could stay over my house for the whole weekend, as she has two classes in the city (one on Thursday and one on Monday) and wants to combine plans to avoid the additional commute if possible.

While I want to be a good friend, there is no fucking way I can manage a whole weekend with her! I told her that I teach on Friday and have a party on Saturday night, but if she wants, we can hang out on Sunday afternoon and she can stay over until Monday. I mean, with the way I've been feeling, even that's a lot. Her response--to ask if she can "tag along" to the party on Saturday. That would mean that I would have to host her for Saturday and Sunday night. I really don't want to do that. I just can't handle her constant jabs, her preaching and moralizing, her insane anxiety and her body-image obsessions. On the other hand, all of those things have become much worse because she has been going through rough times, so as a good friend, I should try to ride it out with her, right? I don't know.

Where should the line be drawn between my own happiness and my obligations as a friend? What should I do about this one?

Any suggestions?

Hyde Triumphs! (Jekyll is down for the count)

Yesterday I was having a pretty rough day. I couldn't seem to get myself out of the house. Well, the day started off okay. When I woke up and turned on my phone, I had another message from Narc (left around 4:30 am Friday night). He said that he wanted to let me know that he decided not to work on his writing this weekend so he "had an opening" for me. (Thanks for tossing a crumb my way, Narc...) He's so weird. What he actually said is that his "life coach" told him not to do any writing this weekend. Don't ask me what a "life coach" is because I hardly understand the concept.

Anyway, I got up and worked on my resume a bit because there's a part time research job I want to apply for. After jumping in the shower and while I was dressing, I somehow got invested in a stupid Lifetime movie. (Brian Austin Green playing a high school kid who is seduced by his mother's friend...good stuff). By the time that movie ended and the next began (female cop in a small town gets sexually harassed and eventually raped by her supervisor) I had lost all momentum and started to feel depressed. The depression just got worse and worse. I could literally feel myself sinking into a fog. I started to think about Narc more and more. My body felt awful and flooded and I was just so sad and anxious and stuck all at the same time. In a moment of very little impulse-control I caved and and called him. Damn it! Well, I left just a short message.
"Hey Narc, it's Hyde. Got your messages. If you still want to talk, give me a call."
That was it.

After that I started to feel all guilty and self-hating for giving in and calling him. It made the depression that much worse. I felt like I both had to go out and do something crazy and drastic, but like I didn't have the energy to even get up off the couch. I wanted to self-immolate, burning myself up in a ring of fire like at the ending of Gotterdammerung. I tried to explain it to Hammer. She asked if was going to go out and get a new tattoo or something. I called B and whined to him about how I was feeling. He told me that I'd feel much better if I could just get myself outside so just do it! ("Let's do this thing!") By this point it was almost 5:00 pm and I hadn't even eaten yet. He urged me to get a bite to eat. I decided to go get a sandwich or something at Cheers.

When I got there I was pretty confused. It was a fucking frat party inside. It turns out it's their tradition over there to do a "Beer Pong" tournament on the Saturday before the super bowl. The joint was flooded with testosterone and the smell of beer. They weren't serving food, and I should have turned around and left, but I didn't. Instead, I ordered a Jack on the rocks. Then another. Then another. Then another. Then another. Then another and then another. Remember, I had started drinking on an empty stomach, so by that point I was pretty wasted. At some point I called the Stallion because he's been on my mind since yesterday. I tried to have a meaningful conversation with him and explain to him that I've been anxious lately about where my life is going. I talked to him about my goals, and how I feel about my mistakes, and how I wonder why I can' t get myself out of this Narc mess. I think it was pretty much a one sided conversation. He told me that he's been "kicking it" (my favorite stallion expression!) and that his girlfriend's going out of town in the end of March if I wanted to come out to San Diego to visit him. I don't think so...

Anyway, in yet another display of brilliant judgement, I decided to call my "medicine man" to deliver some more (since I had flushed my supply back on 1/25). This is the part I am really hating myself for. I mean, c'mon Hyde! Get it together! Not only that, but I was pretty damn obvious about what I was doing, sitting at the bar with a wad of twenties in my hand, waiting for the call back. Now Barman along with everyone else probably has a poor opinion of me. Whatever. I don't want this post to turn into a self-pity session, so I'll try to get on with the story.

I headed back to my place to pick it up and when taste-testing spilled some on my sink. Of course, there was no way to get that back into the bag, so I had to use what spilled. From that point on, I was pretty fucked for the night. I went back to Cheers, but was super strung-out out of it and knew it. I guess I called Liu at some point (or so she tells me) and then just came home to crash. I think I also called Bezukhoff. Hammer tells me we had a whole long conversation, but the whole period is literally blacked out. Who the hell knows. I don't remember anything that happened after 7:00 pm or so (that is until I woke up later in the night). Anyway, I eventually passed out on my bed, laced up Docs and all.

The next thing I knew the phone was ringing. I opened my sticky eyes and looked at the clock. It was 3:45 am. Well, it's not hard to guess who it was. That's right...Narc! He told me that he was at Waikiki Wally's on the Lower East (where I lost my diary). He said that they were doing last-call and that he wanted to see me and would order me a drink. I said okay. (Don't ask me why). The alcohol and "medicine" had not yet worn off, and I was in a weird state somewhere between fucked up and hung-over. I had to go to the ATM, as I had no money for a cab, and decided to use the ATM in Cheers. They were closed already, but there were a few people (staff and regulars) still inside. I banged on the window for them to let me in. When they saw it was me, they opened up, and PumpedUp told me that they were closed. I told him that I just wanted to use the ATM, but he insisted on pouring me a drink.
Me, drink? I never drink..." I told him.
They all thought that was pretty funny. (Pretty funny? More like pretty pathetic. B was mad about that part of the story. He said they're not "really" my friends because if they were they would stop pouring booze down my throat.) Anyway, I had the one drink and PumpedUp asked where I was off to.
"I think you know where I'm off to," I said.
He pulled me aside.
"Hyde," he said, "Don't go there. I mean, get rid of this guy. You're a good girl and a sweet girl. You don't need to put up with this shit from him. Just go home. You'll feel so much better tomorrow and be glad that you did. Just go to bed, wake up tomorrow and come chill and watch the super bowl over here with us." (Some of you may remember that when I had a mysterious bruised eye back in October, the staff at Cheers assumed it was from Narc and now they all think he's physically abusive. I tried to explain to them that it wasn't from him and that he's SO not like that, but they thought I was covering for him and making excuses, so I just let it go).
PumpedUp gave me a big hug and I finished off my drink. I told him that I'd go home (not intending to, but you know me...I'm a people-pleaser). I left Cheers and walked in the direction of my apartment, but instead caught a cab and went down to meet Narc.

It was weird to see him again, after not having seen him for two weeks. I felt some distance between us. I was sniffling a lot, and he gave me an admonishing look for my "naughtiness." I told him that I had been trying to behave and that I even flushed my old stash.
"Oh, wow..." he said sarcastically. "You made it a whole ten days."
Then he said he wished I had brought the stuff with me so he could help me "get rid of it." (Talk about sending a double message. Should I tell him that the bouncer last night wanted to help me "get rid" of him?). Anyway, after the drink there, and with so much shit in my system (still not having eaten), I again don't remember many details. We took a cab back to his neighborhood and stopped at a deli for two bottles of wine and some cigarettes. I also bought a croissant because I was starving. I asked him if he remembered the last time we had stopped in there for wine. (That was the night in November when I first told him I loved him.) He remembered, but I guess other aspects of the evening stood out for him.
"Wasn't that the night I fucked your ass on the roof?"
Um, yes Narc, it was....

Anyway, back at his place, the two of us finished off a bottle, smoked a lot, talked about things I don't remember and of course screwed around. I told him how ridiculous his message was in which he told me he had "an opening for me" to come see him.
"What, am I supposed to be grateful?" I asked. "Am I supposed to come running? It's like you're tossing me a bone--a small window of opportunity in which I get to come fuck you?" (Okay, I know what you're thinking...I did come running, but whatever...)
He looked at me suprised.
"You are special," he told me. "I could have spent this evening with anyone and I chose to spend it with you. I've been blowing off all of my friends, and this is the one weekend I'm taking a break from writing, and I called you."
I wanted to point out that he did spend the weekend with other friends and that he only called me at 3:45 am because the bars were closing, but I bit my tounge. I didn't want to be in a fight while under the influence. (For me that usually means "histrionic emotions" and I know how much he hates that.) In all truth, I do need to confront him on some of this, but I'd rather talk this shit out with him in a more rational way. I kept saying that I had to leave though, and that I didn't want to stay over. I think there was some vestige of Jekyll fighting to create some sort of boundary-- fighting for my dignity. But poor measly Jekyll! Jekyll never wins in these situations. I kept trying to get up and put my clothes on, but Narc kept pulling me back.
"Stop being dramatic," (he loves to say that to me, doesn't he?) "You're not going anywhere. You're staying here and you're sleeping here."
Um, okay...

The next morning (this morning) was sweet. I set the alarm on my phone for 10:00 because I knew I had to meet B. Narc woke up with me and completely cuddled me and kissed me and created a beautiful illusion for me. He didn't want me to leave and urged me to blow off B so we could lounge in bed all day. I pointed out that if he had asked me even one day in advance to spend Saturday night with him, and lounge around with him all day Sunday that I wouldn't have made plans with someone else.
"That's how it works," I told him. "That's why people make plans."
"I don't do plans," he said.
I told him that I wouldn't blow off B because B is very special to me and a most wonderful friend.
"I think that it's fucked up that you're still so close to your ex," he said.
Whatever... he can be jealous all he wants. I told him that I'm always going to love B and that we're like family and that I didn't feel like explaining it beyond that. I know he has no way of understanding, because he doesn't even love (or get love from) his own family. Sometimes I wonder how he could ever have learned to love at all.

Physically, I spent the first half of today feeling really crappy from all of the bad things I did to my body last night. I also looked pretty bleary and awful. I did make it on time to meet B, though and we ate spaghetti and meatballs for lunch. It was pretty delicious to finally have something substantial in my stomach. We went to see a Japanese film, Nobody Knows. It was depressing, but beautifully made and very well acted. After that, I headed home and fed my big beautiful cat (who is staring at me right now with his big beautiful eyes ). Now I need to shower and get out of these day-old clothes. The question for the night: should I stay home and rest, or stop in to Cheers for the big super bowl night? VJ just called me and said she might stop by and we could eat dinner together. I guess I'll deal with figuring out my evening plans after my shower.

The Story of the Bouncer, the Stallion and the Very Strange Phone Call

I just got the weirdest phone call and have to spill it somewhere, so why not here? I have to process what just happened... Most of my friends already know the background on this, but if you just know me through this blog, it will take a bit of explaining to put this phone call in context. The story is a little too sordid to tell in detail, but I'll try to work around that as best as possible.

It starts back when I was a senior in college. Liu and I used to go clubbing a lot. At one of our favorite nightspots, both the bouncer and a bartender were into me. (Let's just call the bartender "the stallion." Those of you who know the story are well aware of why...) The bouncer was significantly older--I think in his 40s. The stallion is around my age (and pretty damn hot).

Anyway, I was dating B at the time, so my encounters with these characters didn't go beyond flirting and the occasional free cover/free drinks. But when B and I broke up (for the first time) in January of 2000, the stallion and I hooked up at the club one time. (God, I can hardly even remember the chronology anymore!) B and I got back together at the end of January and stuck it out six more months before breaking up for the second (but not the last) time. So in June 2000, I was again on my own and heartbroken. That whole summer I was majorly depressed and drowned my sorrows in a shitload of partying. I was still very much into my club-drug phase (which ended with 9/11 when my source dried up). Anyway, to make a long story short, one insane night, I got together with both the stallion and the bouncer. It was a crazy thing to have done, but it was totally a "one-night-stand" kind of thing and I didn't see either of them again or keep in contact.

This past July, a full four years later, all of that changed. I had one really strange week in July. The chance encounter with these two happened the same week that I met Narc! (Some of you may recall- my meeting with Narc is quite a strange story on its own).

Anyway, a friend of mine had a going-away party on a Sunday afternoon at d.b.a. Forget the fact that it was a Sunday afternoon...I was pounding down the whiskeys. From there we moved to another place, then to another and another, finally drifting from the Lower East Side to Hell's Kitchen in Midtown West. We ended up at a place called Rudy's. As we approached the door, I was shocked to see none other then that very same bouncer. I asked if he remembered me. Not only did he remember me, but he told me that the stallion was inside! It was the strangest thing. The stallion was sitting in a booth, chilling with a girl (who I would later learn was his girlfriend) and a few other friends. I went right over and introduced myself. He was excited to see me and picked me up, giving me the biggest hug. It was strange because we had never been friends originally, but it was a cosmically bizarre reunion that we both had to appreciate. The stallion gave me his number, which I programmed into my phone, but by the end of the night, I had lost my cell phone and his number along with it.

It turned out to be okay because the stallion called me about a week and a half later, asking if I wanted to get together. I didn't want it to be an "automatic" booty call, so I dragged VJ along for some female protection. We met down on St. Mark's. Once there, I knew it was all over for me. Physically, I was SO super into this guy. After just two drinks, I told VJ she could take off. She did just that, and the stallion made his move. This launched a two-three week affair fueled by alcohol, "medicine" and lust--just an insanely amazing experience that I will never forget. Probably a good thing--the stallion was preparing to move to California with his "fiancee" and I had to try to put the whole thing out of my mind. Also, we would never have been able to make it work on an intellectual level. While he seemed to have a good mind and be naturally smart, he wasn't college educated and just came from a totally different world than mine. He had worked for years as an exotic dancer and liked to tell me about all of the rich women he had screwed on the side. It's funny now, when I look back at this summer realizing that it was during this affair that I had my first few nights with Narc. I remember that at the time I totally didn't think Narc was anything special because he was in the shadow of the stallion. But now he's fucking heaven and earth to me? It doesn't make any sense.

Anyway, I feel like I'm getting so off track from my original point about the weird phone call I just got. Let me try to speed this up. (God, I'm such an annoyingly long-winded writer!) Okay, so the stallion and his girlfriend left town in early August. At some point near the end of September I was leaving Cheers at around 4:00 am (closing time) and a crowd of strangers I had met wanted to find somewhere else to hang out to do after-hours. I told them all I knew a bouncer on the West Side. We picked up two other boys at a nearby bar and we all piled into cabs over to Rudy's. The bouncer was there and let us in. Even though I was so fucking trashed, we exchanged numbers that night. That was a weird night too.. It's the night I met MarriedGuy (who was chivalrous and took me home safely that night). Whatever...that's another brief fling from this fall that I SO don't want to get into right now.

Just a few days later on a rainy Tuesday night (after a date gone terribly wrong with some loser unworthy of mention) I called the bouncer and asked if he wanted to hang out. He told me to meet him at China Club. I was already wasted and high at the time of the call and ended up heading out on my own in pretty incapactiated state at about 2:30 am. (NOT a very good idea...) We left China Club (where some asshole tried to take advantage of me while I was dazed on the sofa in the lobby) and ended up at another bar where I got even more drunk. The bouncer was super agressive with the suave compliments and sexual innuendos, but didn't take advantage of my inebriation or poor judgement. We did talk a lot though, and I think I revealed way too much about stuff I've been though in the past, etc.

The next day I was so embarassed. I called him to apologize, but he was nice about it and said that I had nothing to apologize for and that I'm a sweet girl. I think that over the course of the next few weeks I drunk-dialed him a few times, but it's all a blur. I just know that we never met up after that point.

In October (right after my tonsil surgery) the stallion called me out of the blue. I guess it got my mind back on those guys and that whole situation. Shortly after that I made a late-night trip back to Rudy's. It was one of those nights that I didn't know when to quit. I just had to push things to the extreme and party as hard as I could, you know? Anyway, Cheers closed up and I headed to the West Side on my own. The only problem--when I arrived I learned that the bouncer was no longer working there. I was pretty fucked up already upon arrival and a creepy old man at the bar started hitting on me. I was too out of it to properly resist on my own, so I asked the bartender on duty to watch my back and make sure I didn't do anything stupid or leave with the creepy guy. (You'd think that my request for help with judgement and impulse-control would be a sign to stop serving me drinks, but I guess not...) Anyway, eventually the bar closed up and the only one left there was yours truly. The bartender sat me down in a booth and he and another guy who works there were talking to me about some bullshit I don't remember.

At some point it was arranged that the bartender would take me home "to make sure I got home okay." To be sure, he took me up to my apartment where the topic of "medicine" came up and we started to indulge. I was sooooooo out of it that I really don't remember the rest in any detail, but things started to go terribly wrong. The guy tried to make off with my "medicine" and when I followed him into the hall, he assaulted me, hurling me against the wall. I bruised my head and got a few scratches from the fall, one of which left a scar that's still very visible on my left arm. I started pressing the button for the elevator which thankfully came quickly for once. I wedged my foot in the elevator door to hold it open, and told him that there's a security camera in there and that everything he was doing to me was being caught on tape. Suddenly he did a 180 and tried to make it look like I was attacking him and he pushed me hard and said "Get away! Leave me alone!" I was so confused. I fell down again from his shove and bewildered, bruised and shaken up, stumbled back into my apartment. The doorman buzzed up a few minutes later saying that the guy was back and claimed to have left his backpack in my house. I told the doorman not to let him upstairs. In the end, there was no backpack in my house, so I can only wonder what he wanted to come back upstairs for... (God, I shudder to think...) I was pretty devestated at that point and crying a lot. I called the bouncer to tell him that I had just been assaulted by someone who works at his former establishment. It was awful and I was probably pretty incoherent and hysterical on his voice mail.

The next day I felt embarassed about the whole incident (not to mention feeling physically wrecked!). I called the bouncer and apologized on his machine and said I would erase his number from my phone and not bother him any more. I never heard from him again.

I did hear from the stallion a few times after that. In fact, most recently, he called me on the Saturday night I spent with Narc a few weeks ago. (See my post Narcissist in the New Year). He and I have an interesting relationship. I mean, I do feel some sort of connection to him because we actually spent some time together those few weeks in the summer and they were absolutely amazing. I guess we're sort of "friends." But the weird weird weird phone call I just received was from the bouncer!

Even though we have had no contact since October, he just called and basically said that he was "calling me back" after that "strange phone call" he got from me "a while back." I pointed out that it was four months ago. I mean, that's kind of a long time to go before returning a phone call, don't you think? So what did this guy want? First of all, he told me that the bartender who assaulted me is an asshole and has been reprimanded for bringing girls downstairs at the bar and making them "uncomfortable." Second of all, he said that he wants to hang out with me and to "get to know me." He said that I'm sweet and fun to party with, that I can call him any time day or night and that it's never a burden, etc. We exchanged some stiff akward banter about how my school is going and what he's doing for work now. (I hate that shit. Didn't I get enough of that with PakistaniMan last night?) He asked if I was seeing anyone, so I said
"um, kind of...the same guy I probably told you about in the fall."
"The guy who's abusive to you?" he asked.
"He's not abusive to me," I said.
"Well, that's not what I recall," he said.
I don't know what he was basing that on, but my guess is that he mixed it up with another story I must have told him that night we went out. Either that, or I was terribly misleading in my description of Narc and completley incoherent in my drunkeness. I mean, I think he's been a little emotionally abusive in a manipulative way, but he's no wife-beater type or anything like that. The bouncer said that he wants to "help me get rid of that guy" and "take care of that problem." (Hmm...How are you going to do that?) Then he asked if I wanted to meet up tonight and I said I couldn't b/c I'm tired, but to have a good night. So he said "honey, you've made it a good night already!" This guy had a lot of slick one-liners like that tossed into the conversation.

God, I just don't know what to make of this. I can't take any more fucking drama. I mean, this is not real drama, but I already have enough on my mind without this whole saga being raked to the forefront. Whatever... I need to stop thinking about all of this and go to bed. I'm a monster glued to the computer. I think I've probably spent as much time blogging today as I have teaching. I'm a fucking blog addict. I guess it's better for me than being out drinking though. I wrote so much today that I don't know if anyone's going to have time to even read all this shit, but I don't care. It helps me to write it.

See, now it's past midnight and I haven't showered or schminkined to go out for some Friday night fun, so it means I'm past the danger zone. What a weird fucking phone call though! I don' t understand men. I just don't know how to navigate them. I'm too tired to think right now. Too tired to care. This is turning into a ramble...into some stream of consciousness freewrite that will no longer merit becoming a published post if I don't stop now. So I will. Right Hyde? Always know your limits. Always know when it's time to stop. That's always been my motto... Wouldn't you say?

Two Guys, a Girl and a Narc: Part II

Okay, well so far I've given you the "two guys" portion of the story. Now back to basics--more on Narc.

After I had ushered Druggie out of my house, everything seemed so suddenly silent. The click of the door closing was sharper than ever. The chain lock latch slid into place, the latching sound echoing. Ughh... I couldn't help it, but damn him! Narc quietly crept back into my thoughts. He takes a class on Thursday nights and he and his friends always go out partying afterwards. I just knew he was going to call me in the middle of the night. I felt it.

So being a good girl, I shut the ringers on both of my phones and lo and behold, when I awoke, I had a 5:00 am voice mail from his highness. So, first I'll give you a transcript of what he said, and then I'll give you my translation. The Narcissit decoded!

His message:

"Hey 'Hyde, it's 'Narc.' It's uh....Thursday slash Friday morning. It's like ass-early. It must be like 5:00 in the morning on Friday. I haven't left the apartment in quite a few days and uh... I just popped out for the first time tonight and um... I guess I just came back. Um.... Yeah...
I just wanted to um... I dont' know. I felt like we um... kind of left things on kind of an ambiguous note last time and I didn't want to make you think that um... you know, you felt like I was.... like I was just, you know.... dropping you like that. I just wanted to make clear with this message that you're still a part of my life. I'm just sorry that I'm, um... writing a lot and all that. I may go away for days or like a week or you know, a week and a half at a time to figure things out. But you're teaching. I guess you're doing your thing too. Um.... That's pretty much it. (nervous laughter) I don't really have much to say. Um... I wish to death you were awake and up right now and we could talk about this in person, but you're not. Um... So I 'm just going to, I don' t know... wish you luck in your teaching and um... Just call me back whenever you get this and we'll figure things out. Allright. Bye."

And now for the translation (B says I get an A+ on this one!):

Hey 'Hyde,' it's 'Narc.' You should be grateful I'm calling you even though it's 5:00 am and I've basically ignored you for two weeks (except to call you drunk in the middle of the night). Why? Because I haven't had any free time or even left my house until now and look! I'm calling you right away at my earliest convenience! Aren't you grateful? Anyway, I'm scared that I drove you away with the shitty way I acted, so I need to make it clear before it's too late that you can't go away yet. I want you back because I'm not done using you for my Narcissistic Supply. Basically I'm not done using you at all just yet. I just wanted to make it clear with this message that you still need to be here at my beckon call. I know that I'm not at your beckon call and that I disappear for days or a week or a week and a half at a time, and that I torture you all the time, but since you have a job and weren't there for me the instant I required you (the other night when you wouldn't come fuck me on demand) I'm not going to feel guily for being a dick and disappearing without a word. (Interestingly enough, while he claims to disappear because he "has to write," here he slips up and acknowledges that it's really because he has to "figure things out," as in, he can't handle the way I make him feel).
That's pretty much it. I'll pretend to want to "talk this out" when really I just wish you were awake so you could come fuck me because it's my whim to see you right now . Just call me back whenever you get this and we can arrange for you to come down here and vulnerably try to explain your feelings. Then I can dodge the issue, make you forget what you were going to say by confusing things with a lot more sex, and things can go on forever like they've been.
Allright. Bye.

Ahh, Narc.... My sweet, predictable Narc! When is this all going to end? All I know is that I've got to do everything I can not to call him back today, that's for sure. I'm off to meet Hammer in a little while and then I need to park my ass at home tonight. Sorry Israeli kid--just can't be at Cheers tonight. Too risky... Narc has to feel this burn for a while. I'm not trying to be vindictive, it's just that it takes a lot to upset me...I mean, I can take a whole lot of abuse from guys. But seven months on this merry-go-round is wearing thin.

Whatever...I'm starving right now...haven't eaten all day. Time to forget about Narc and go get a bite.

Later!

Two Guys, a Girl and a Narc: Part I

Yay! I've survived my second Friday from hell of marathon teaching. One might think it's because I learned my lesson last week and got more rest this time around, but lately I've been playing the fool. For that, I've been swimming in self-beration all morning long, and am ready to confess to the cyber-world that I didn't manage to accomplish a whole week of sobriety. But before I start giving myself twenty lashes over the shoulder, to be fair, I drank in relative moderation (for me) and did not fuck up and call Narc.

That said, it was a pretty interesting night. I spent most of the day yesterday out on Long Island, arriving back in the city around 8:30 pm. Since I hadn't eaten dinner, I decided to stop into Cheers for a sandwich and soda. I was very well behaved. I ate my sandwich quietly while drowning myself in a sea of diet coke, Wagner and European politics.

At around 10:00 pm B called my cell. We talked on the phone for an hour (about anything and everything? Of course not! Only about our solipsistic selves). While I was on the phone, PakistaniMan arrived at the bar (if you forgot who he is, refer to Progression or Regression? Part II) Anyway, he was staring at me (quite conspicuously) the whole time I was on the phone. I wasn't eager to hang up, as I didn't really feel like dealing with him. When B finally signed off for the night, PakistaniMan approached. He "broke the ice" by uncomfortably apologizing for kissing me (or trying to) two weeks ago, asserting that he shouldn't have "been so bold" and assuring that he "didn't mean any offense." He explained that he had been very drunk and that he's not used to drunken late nights. I told him not to worry about it. "These things happen and I was really drunk that night too." (Please...who am I to judge?) So he sat down and asked if he could buy me a drink.

Ahh...the moment of truth.

Apparently the "truth" is that I'm pretty fucking weak-willed because all of my determination to avoide booze did not dissuade me from accepting his offer. But I decided to try to be "smart" about it (if that's at all possible) and to only drink wine (which makes me sleepy) as opposed to whisky (which lights the fire that transforms me into Hyde). Anyway, he bought me two glasses of wine and I drank them over painfully akward conversation. He really has trouble talking to women. I had to keep asking him things about himself to keep the conversation going. I wasn't sure why I was bothering to try. I mean, I was getting tired and was not particularly interested in him. On the other hand, I'm very sensitive, hate confrontation, don't know how to kindly blow people off and I certainly didn't want to hurt his feelings. One thing peaked my curiosity--I found out that his father has two wives and I got to ask him some questions about that. Anyway, at some point he got up to go to the bathroom and two other drunk boys started talking to me from across the room. I went over and exchanged a few words with them. PakistaniMan came back and kind of lingered at the table where we had been sitting, not wanting to approach the bar. I think he was feeling a little rejected, but honestly, I'm not interested and was bored and on top of that, didn't want to lead him on. I certainly didn't want to accept any more drinks from him. I tried to balance the scales by buying him a beer. He came over to the bar to accept it and seeing that I had chipped off all my nailpolish over the course of our conversation, announced that he liked my fingers better bare. Then told me I have such beautiful hands. Anyone who knows me (and my inability to play Chopin) knows that I have short fingers and that due to nerves, my cuticles are all bitten up. I didn't know how to take the compliment.

Anyway, a middle-aged man seated to my right suddenly decided to tell me that he's famous.

"Famous?" I asked. "Who are you?"

He didn't like the question, haughtily explaining that he's an economist and an academic and used to teach Shakespeare at Cambridge. He was drunk and had a strong Scottish accent and I couldn't understand everything he was saying which I think profoundly irritated him. He said he had just come from dining with two Columbia professors--a married couple, one of whom is head of the ACLU. Pretty cool. He wanted to talk about Shakespeare, but I was a little intimidated. Our brief discussion of King Lear was rather tepid. A young guy to the right of the Scotsman leaned over and introduced himself. He's a 24 year old Israeli who works at the nearby embassy. The Scottish Professor left and the Israeli kid moved down a stool to sit next to me. We started chatting, but I still had PakistaniMan to my left. I felt akward--like I didn't want to be mean to PakistaniMan, but the Israeli kid was agressively seeking my attention. The Israeli kid started up a conversation about music, enthusiastically urging me, in fact--compelling me to start listening to Nick Cave and Tom Waits. PakistaniMan looked sad and I am so fucking sensitive to those things so I turned and asked him if he had any music to recommend. He gave me the name of an Indian singer he really likes (Kshor Komar) while the Israeli kid said, "wait, I thought I was special..." At this point, the dynamic was starting to stress me out and it was not fun.

How to deal with anxiety a la Hyde? I finished off my third glass of wine and had two shots. By then it was about 1:00 am and IrishBird decided to close due to the small crowd. The problem was that both PakistaniMan and the Israeli kid wanted to walk me home. I took a while to pack up my stuff, hoping one or both would take off, but they both waited outside for me in the rain. (I wasn't yet drunk enough or on the right stuff to have become Hyde with her enormous ego and boundless self-power. So, despite my anxiety, self-loathing and introspective Jekyll was quite flattered.) Nevertheless, I begged IrishBird for assistance. It was such an akward moment. She laughed and told me that I was causing the boys to "drop to their knees" and asked "who needs Narc?" While she was cleaning up she gave me a single red rose that some eager Prince Charming had left for her at the bar. How would I get out of the present dilemma? She told me to tell my suitors that she wanted me to go with her to the deli. A poor excuse, but I took it. We left the bar and I told PakistaniMan I had to go with IrishBird.

"Wait!" he said. "I have to talk to you."

I asked him what about. He pulled me aside and told me that he has "very intense" feelings for me (wait, WHAT???) and that he would like to "be with me." (Um...this was out of control!)

I didn't know what to say. So I told him that I thought it was best if we "just be friends" because I am not looking right now, coming off a breakup, yada yada yada. I thought that he would get the point and embarassedly bow out, but instead he looked at me "intensely" and said "I will wait for you." (Yikes!) Well, I know that the guy only hangs at Cheers on Thursdays, so I guess I'll be steering clear of Thursday night revels for a while.

During this little exchange, IrishBird had taken off and the Israeli kid had moved away, lingering on the corner. PakistaniMan departed and the Israeli kid approached to walk me home. He wanted to go up to my apartment to listen to some of the music he recommended and to hear what I like. (Yeah, I'm sure that's it). Anyway, he lives very nearby (in FightingMensch's building) but his parents are staying with him for the month, so an invite to his place was not an option. I told him "I didn't think so," but that I might see him Friday night at Cheers. (Now that it's Friday, though, I think it's in my best interest to stay in for the night). He asked for my number and I gave it to him, even though I'm not really sure that I wanted to. I mean, twenty-four is a little young for me. Besides, I am still so hung up on the Narc situation. Anyway, by that point we were standing under the awning of my building. With IrishBird's rose in hand, and Israeli guy about to move in akwardly for some kind of kiss, I saw the druggie kid who lives in my building walk by. Not wanting to be kissed by the Israeli kid, I called out to the druggie.

"Hey! What's up?"

Druggie stopped and we exchanged a few words. The Israeli kid gave me an akward hug and made his exit. I strolled into the building, finally out of the rain, walking with Druggie towards the elevators. Druggie eyed my rose, obviously concluding it was from the Israeli kid. I asked him how he's been. We made small talk in the elevator and I stupidly asked him if he wanted to hang out for a while. As the words tripped off my tounge, I remembered all the reasons I generally avoid him. He was brown-bagging a beer and I told him that he couldn't drink any of my alcohol. The last time that happened he went completely insane. I mean, he got frighteningly fucked up. I remembered how I had to physically block him to keep him from my booze because he wouldn't stop; I remembered that he had drank the gel from inside my gel-cap sleeping pills and then puked all over the floor; I remembered when he had messed up that party I had two summers ago when he went crazy and started talking to himself, spitting and pouring wine all over the floor until VJ took charge and dragged him back to his apartment, as he chased her through the stairwells; I remembered the time he creepily left me the DVD of Beloved under my door with no note and didn't comment on it for months; I thought of when he and his friend rang my bell one morning at 7:00 am, both of them high off their asses with some strange unknown drug in tow. I could go on and on. Anyway the point is, once made, I regret my offer, but he was already there and on my living room couch. I guess I have especially been avoiding him since the sexual tension started in July. We had stayed up all night one night doing "medicine" and he got really confessional and then told me that he felt connected to me and tried to kiss me. I didn't let it happen, but since then, every time we've hung out there's been really weird sexual tension on his end. One time I was in his apartment talking to his brother and Druggie was drunk beyond belief and sitting next to me and just leaned over and kissed me while I was mid-sentence. I pushed him off and his brother started yelling at him,

"What the fuck, man? What are you doing? God damn it! What the fuck?" etc.

Anyway, since then, I haven't wanted to get into a similar situation. I was right about it too because last night right away he started saying weird things. For starters, he asked me if I hang out in my living room naked when I'm home alone; then he asked if I wanted to make out with him; then he told me that he's sure I have a million boyfriends because he always sees me coming home with guys. (Actually, it's strange, but I have bumped into him a lot of times when I've been either standing outside Cheers with a guy, on my way to see Narc, or being walked home by one guy or another. The other half of the time it's probably B, but whatever...) Anyway, I told him that I don't have "a million boyfriends." (Please...just one would be nice!) He started going on about how he and I just have this crazy sexual chemistry (I beg to differ), and he feels it every time we're in the elevator together. He thinks it's because we've shared so many "intense" moments. Well, I'm sorry...the guy just freaks me out and I have no interest in being with him on any level. I told him that we had to wind things down for the night because I had to go to bed. I don't know what he thought I was implying, but he asked me flat out if I "wanted to have sex." I looked at him exasperatedly and ushered him out the door.

"C'mon. Be serious. Good night."

And that was that.

A Quiet Day (for once)

I have an hour or so before my Research Seminar starts, so I figured I'd kill some time by updating my blog!

Last night I was a little worried about the long stretch ahead. It was my first night of real down time. I'm not used to being home and by myself, especially if determined to avoid drinking. I got back from class around 5:00 pm and plopped onto the couch a bit depressedly eating an apple and watching Dr. Phil. The topic: "bad parenting," a subject that has touched the lives of almost all neurotic New Yorkers. The sinking sun cast strange shadows on the walls. Skyscraper windows popped open with light like tiny kernels of popcorn strung across the city. Suspended twenty floors above the world, my living room grew darker and darker. I was too lazy to get up and turn on the lamp. Brooding and self-indulgent, I rather enjoyed feeling sorry for myself. I wallowed in the whole Narc mess, tracing over and over in my head everything we've been through the past seven months. At some point I could stand it no more and called B for some "daily affirmation" (a little ironic that he's my source of "confidence," but that's a whole other story). Eventually, I dragged myself into the shower and pulled together my resources to do some reading.

Try as I might, I couldn't quite make it through the evening locked up at home. I decided to head to Cheers, reading in tow. I brought two general overviews of 19th Century Aesthetics. I'm still trying to ground myself in a paper topic for my big research project this spring. The place was pretty quiet. I drank a million rounds of diet coke (which they serve me for free) and had some bar snacks for dinner. There, I sat and I read and I drank (soda) for two hours or so. The Nigerian crew arrived, but I hardly know them and wasn't in the mood to chat. One of them asked me if I was working on a lesson plan, remembering that last fall I had gone home early to work on one. Now that he mentioned it, I remembered the incident. I had been drinking at Cheers, but was getting a little too drunk to be able to do my planning for the next day. I left the bar, went home to write my lesson, and returned to the bar later in the evening to cap off the night. I thought it was strange that he remembered that random night. I mean, I generally think of myself as an observant person, but absolute strangers always seem to remember odd details about me when I hardly remember even meeting them!

Anyway, B had given me the idea to keep a list in my wallet of all the asshole things Narc has ever done to me, so when my mind starts playing tricks on me and I start to think that I love him, I can look at my list.

Some of the more pertinant points:
1. wakes me in the middle of the night regardless of when I have to teach
2. has called me a "bitch," a "drunk," an "unfit teacher," a "histrionic" and told me that my "life is shit."
3. disappears for long periods, refusing to return my calls, only to call me at his convenience, usually drunk, and usually for sex.
4. refuses to do anything in the daylight.
5. shows no interest in my life and has only been to my place once (last July).
6. says (and acts like) he loves me intensly and "adores" me and then disappears only to tell me casually the next time we speak that there's "nothing" between us.
7. makes me feel like I'm irrational and crazy, when I'M NOT!!!

Anyway, how much can you fit on an index card??? I showed it to IrishBird and she was glad to see that I'm trying to turn around my thinking on this one. She's getting over a five year relationship and said that she's never been happier because she's taking control. She assured me that we're both strong girls and that we'll both find the right people to make us happy. I had a good time talking to her, but since I've been so run down, I didn't stay much later than 10:30. (A shockingly early night!)

This morning I woke up pretty well rested...I actually got 8 hours of sleep! Teaching was great since it's the third time in the past week I've given the same lecture. I hardly had to rely on my notes, so I was able to be a lot more energetic and spontaneous about it. I definitely got a good response from the class with a lot of questions and participation. My voice lesson today wasn't as good, mostly due to my cold, but still--the top part of my register is totally recovering and it wasn't so bad either. It felt nice to be singing on a good night's sleep for once!

After my lesson I headed to school where I ate lunch alone and again began to feel pangs of heartbreak. I have such an obsessive heart. It's also way too sensitive--such a fucking burden sometimes! I texted B just to get a shout-out of love or something, and as luck would have it, he was also at school! He came up and joined me and now we're in the History department together, doing work. (Well, he's doing work, I'm obviously just blogging.) In the stairwell we sang Josquin's Ave Maria, which echoed and bounced off the walls as if we were in the grandest Cathedral in the world. Even though we were just two of four parts, the sounds were beautiful and I couldn't think of anything more spectacular!

That's it for now. Like I said--I've got that Research Seminar tonight and then the endless stretch of another night without whisky or Narc. I'm totally going to get through the week though. I know I can do it because I just have to. Yay! It's not so bad right now. Right?

Monday Night Romance

Monday night was filled with the three men in my life (each meeting a very particular need): More Narc, a visit from B and of course, Jack Bauer. B arrived at my place around 6:00. I was feeling very run down. All of this emotional stress and late night partying had worked me into a fever and cold yet again. Teaching was tough in the morning and my voice lesson was even worse.

Anyway, B and I were watching Seinfeld when my cell rang--it was Narc. I guess he knew he had to deal with what happened last night. He probably didn't remember much, except that some "damage control" was in order. I told him I had a friend over and was relocating into my bedroom to talk in private.

"We don't have to talk now," he said.

"So when do you want to talk?" I asked. "Later this week?"

"Well, no. I'm going to start writing again tomorrow. Tonight is the only night that I'm taking off this week."

"So what's up?" I asked him. "Are you finally calling me back from last week?"

He told me that he's calling "everyone" back from last week--that when he writes, he forgoes all correspondence and does not communicate with a single soul. (I find that hard to believe, but whatever...)

The whole conversation was exceedingly odd. He said he wanted to apologize because he "guessed" he had "yelled at me" the night before in an attempt to get me to come down and see him. I explained that it wasn't his agression that upset me, but rather his insults. I reminded him that he called me a "drunk," an "unfit teacher" and a "bitch" several times.

He was embarassed, as I suspected, and apologized, assuring me that he really doesn't think those things about me. I didn't really respond, waiting for him to explain. He said that he had had a rough day on Sunday and probably just took it out on me. I think he's depressed--doesn't like where his life is right now and doesn't feel like his old friends are there for him. I can't help him with that though. Especially if he insists on constantly pushing me away.

At that point, he started trying to get off the phone.
"Wait! Are we going to hang out at some point?" I asked. "I mean, what's going on with us? Do you want to make some kind of plan?"

He reminded me that he's not going to be available for the rest of the week and that if I wanted to see him, I had to come to him right away.

"But I have friends over, and we're going to watch 24!"

"Well, if you want to see me, now's your chance. I can TiVo 24 for you if you want."

I turned him down, but told him that we have to figure out what the hell is going on between us. He has me so confused all the time. His response--to remind me that "we're not having any kind of romantic tryst or relationship" (we're not?) and that "we're not monogomous" and that there's "nothing really between us" and that since I'm the one who's been "bringing guys back to my place late at night" it's obvious that I'm looking for a relationship even though he's not in relationship mode. (Should I bother explaining that if I were really looking for a "relationship" I wouldn't go about it by going out to bars and bringing guys back here for "medicine?" Not worth the effort...) I pointed out that I haven't slept with anyone except for him since November for a reason. (Let's ignore certain December incidents for the moment...) November is when I told him I had feelings for him, and I've held to that. He told me that I should "take those guys up on their offers" and that there's really nothing to discuss.

I agreed that there's nothing to "discuss," but there is a lot for me to figure out. I mean, we've spent seven months together now. He's told me that he loves me many times starting in October. I can't help it if I'm not "cool" enough to handle things staying ultra-casual, but I have feelings for him and they need to be dealt with. If he doesn't want to deal with them, then I need to stop seeing him because it only hurts me and makes me anxious during his "disappearing" acts.

"Do what you have to do," he told me. He said I would have a while to think about it because he was going back "underground" for the week and I wouldn't hear from him again until he was done with his next phase of writing.

The phone call left me feeling anxious and upset, but confused more than anything. How can a man who tells me he loves me and adores me on the one hand, turn around and tell me that there is nothing romantic between us and that we don't have a relationship on any level??? Huh?????

I came back into the living room and cuddled with B a bit which made me feel a little better, but still so fucking sad and confused. I needed to ask Narc to answer that for me. I mean, he was feeding me 100% bullshit and it just wouldn't settle. I decided to call him back. My excuse-- to find out that name of that "lame British band" that I forgot to ask about.

Predictably, he said he didn't know what I was talking about. He didn't remember dancing around at all the night before, and he certainly couldn't recall what band it was. I told him how ridiculous he had been acting and we both started laughing about it. We went on joking for a bit until he brought up (yet again!) that I bring guys back to my house. I objected to him throwing that up in my face constantly. I reminded him that I have insomnia and he knows that, and that I just like to find interesting people to stay up talking with all night. It doesn't mean I'm "unfaithful" (to this non-committed relationship) or that I'm looking for sex or romance. It just means I have trouble being alone and can't sleep.

"Besides," I asked him, "How can you say things like you both love and adore me and then tell me that we're not in any kind of romantic relationship whatsoever?" To me, that's more disjunctive than any of my unsavory behaviors.

His strange reply: "That's not what I said. I didn't say there's no relationship." (But that is what he said!).

I told him that when he flips back and forth like that it doesn't make sense to me. I asked him to explain himself. If that's not what he said, then is there anything between us? How does he feel about me? He just kept saying "I don't know, I don't know," and tried to usher me off the phone.
"You have to go watch your show and my pizza just arrived," he said.

"Fine," I said. "Go eat your pizza."

And that was that. Once again, not much resolution. I know that to most readers he sounds like a jerk. It probably also sounds like he is not really interested in me. It's hard to convey in writing, though, what there really is between us. I know the strength of his feelings for me. I also know that he is not comfortable with those feelings. Every time he puts me down or insists that I'm with other guys, it's an attempt to find a reason to keep me at arm' s length. I know that I've already gotten to him just as much as he has to me. As B pointed out, he's in a perfect equilibrium. As the saying goes, he "can't live with me, can't live without me."

What do I want to do about it? I just need to stay sober for the week and avoid contact. Let him come after me or I have to forget him all together. I just can't degrade myself by drunk-dialing any time soon.

B overheard most of our second conversation and told me that he thinks that I behaved in a way that's really creepy. He could hear Narc through the phone and was repulsed because he's come to hate him so much. He couldn't believe how casual I sounded, laughing and conversing as if with an old friend despite the verbal abuse and emotional rollercoaster I suffered the night before. B told me that it creeps him out that I take all it in stride as if it's all normal and okay. He got pretty upset and picked up one of the pillows on the couch, slamming it down in anger. I thought it was sweet--evidence of how much he loves me. I would be frustrated too if I were in his shoes.

From there, the night improved. I started to feel a little less feverish and Hammer arrived to watch 24. It was a great episode--especially the bit when Almeida appeared out of nowhere! Yay! I live for Monday nights now. Hammer bought me the cutest charm with her nickname for me on it, which I put on a chain like a pendant. She explained it was because I lost my crystal. Luck would have it though, I found my amethyst! They still had it over at Cheers, along with my credit card. (I never paid the tab Saturday night). So Hammer, B and I bummed around for a while before turning in for the night. I shut my cell phone and unplugged my land-line (on principle, after the night before), and went to sleep.

Today I've got a new class starting which should be pretty good. I still have an awful cold, but am going to try to take it easy the next few days...focus on school and get lots of sleep. Wish me luck!