"Never Marry a Reclamation Project"

(Happy Birthday Narc!)

Today is Narc's birthday. I decided to mark the occassion by sending him a simple email. (Try as I might, I couldn't ignore the event, but I didn't want to do anything too desperate or elaborate). So this morning I wrote him the following message:

Narc,

(A little disclaimer-- I know that you said that you don't care all that much about birthdays, but you know that I definitely do, so I just couldn't let yours go unspoken for...)

Anyway, Happy Birthday with all my heart. Hope that "29" is a happy year, full of all the rewards and accomplishments that you've been working for.

Go out and do something fun today!!! You deserve it.

Lots of Love,
Hyde

After that (and feeling slightly strange about it), I headed off to therapy. It was an incredibly productive session in terms of shedding new light on my thoughts and feelings where Narc is concerned.

Last night I spent an hour at Cheers hanging out with BarMan. He told me that he met a girl that he's thinking of asking out, but that she may be too much of a "diva" for his taste. That launched an entire discussion on what each of us looks for in a potential mate. I had to admit that for me, it's hard to put my finger on. The only common characteristic to be found in my various choices over the years is narcissism and the need to be "saved" in some way that only my love can accomplish. And that brings me to the title of my post--"never marry a reclamation project." After three marriages and nearly 20 years practicing family law and arranging divorces, that's the one line of advice my mom has consistently offered up where relationships are concerned.

Anyway, back to my "theraputic discoveries" about the whole Narc situation...

I say that I "love" Narc. When my therapist asked me what I want from all of this, or what the best possible gain could be, I said that I "just want him to be happy."

"How does that fulfill you?" she asked. "Where in that equation do you have your needs met?"

Well, obviously it meets some need of mine to be the nurturer. I want to give him "unconditional love." And it has to be unconditional. (In case you guys haven't noticed, no matter what he's done--standing me up for the opera, masturbating in front of my friend, kicking me out when my brother was in critical condition, cursing me out on the phone, and now seeing another girl--I haven't stopped loving him and "wanting him to be happy.") "Unconditional love" has always been my personal ideal for complicated reasons that I don't have the energy to go into right now. Who needs "unconditional love" and saving the most? Why the "reclamation projects," of course!

What my therapist pointed out today, though, is that pity dimishes a person. With Narc, it's like I don't respect him enough to expect things from him. He's fucking 29 years old today! I should demand that he step up and be a man by treating me with some respect, by demanding that he take responsibility for making decisions about his life and then following up on those decisions. By letting him get away with this kind of floundering around, and the kind of self-indulgence that he has always had at my expense, it's not loving him. Making myself unconditionally emotionally and sexually available isn't helping him! Maybe I need to stop rewarding his bad behavior (ie getting drunk and calling to curse me at 4:00 am and demand sex) by refusing to engage with him on that level.

I guess my big revelation was that my unconditional love can be harmful. Narc has said to me time and again that I'm "no good" for him. I always scoffed at that, thinking that he just didn't understand what was "really" good for him--ie someone who would accept him no matter what, allowing him to be comfortable enough to take himself out of his persistent emotional isolation. Can it be that my love actually indicates a lack of faith in his ability to function as a responsible, caring adult?

The other big change in my thinking-- Up to this point, I kept insisting that Narc is "confused." My therapist disagrees. She kept telling me that he's not confused! After talking it through, I teased out what I think is an important distinction. She's right. He's not confused. Rather, he's conflicted. There's a major difference. The best metaphor I can think of to explain it is the idea of being on a diet. For example, one usually knows what one needs to do in order to lose weight (on a basic level--eat less, exercise more). If someone has a goal (losing 10 pounds, for example), then they know what they have to do to get there. That doesn't mean that they want to do it. That person may love chocolate and sweets and indulge in them all the time, but it doesn't mean that that person wants chocolate and sweets in the long run. In fact, that person knows that those sweets are keeping him from his goals. Well, that's how I think Narc feels about me.

I don't doubt it at all when Narc says that he loves me. I feel that it's true. I feel that he wants to be with me. But that doesn't mean that he wants me. He's not confused at all. In fact, he's made it pretty clear for months now. He always talks about his goals and ambitions; he has always said that he is looking for a "muse." He also wants someone to externally motivate him--someone to make him get up and go jogging at 6:00 am and then somoeone to encourage him to stick to his writing all day. He doesn't want to take responsibility to do what he needs to do to meet his own goals. I can't offer him that. All I can offer him is unconditional love. Since he knows I'm not going to help him further his goals, he doesn't want me, but he continues to indulge in me anyway. And that's why I think I make him feel shitty about himself and why he keeps trying to get rid of me passive-agressively or by insisting we have more "space" between us.

Maybe he wants me to turn him down, even though he kicks and screams like a little baby who wants his bottle when I do. I sensed it on Thursday--that he was waiting for me to reject his advance. He has already decided that he doesn't want me (in terms of his long term goals) and so he's waiting for me to make it easy for him and reject him. But I don't. By being there all the time, I make it way too easy for him to indulge. I make it way to easy for him to "fuck up" and get off the path of his long-term agenda.

So if I really do love him, should I put an end to all this for good?

I need to stop writing my own script for him. I need to stop telling myself that he really does want me, but just can't let himself accept it. He doesn't want me. He made that decision a few months ago, and since then, it's been pretty clear ever since that brief period in late November/early December when he left that message saying he'd been "unfair to me" and that he wanted to talk in order to "renegotiate the terms of our relationship."

So seriously, Hyde--stop deluding yourself for TWO SECONDS (because you've always known that's what this has been about). You know he's no good for you either! You don't want him either!

I was feeling pretty good about things when I left therapy--more resolved than ever that this is not the right thing for me. And seriously, I do love him and I do want to help him be the best person that he can be. If that means removing myself from his life, then maybe that's what I should do.

Then I got to school and stopped to check my email. I had received the following email from Narc:

Aww! Thanks for remembering!

Not doing anything special today--in writing all week--but maybe this weekend I shall finally relax...

Another year gone (sigh)--I hope and pray this coming one will be THE one, finally...

N

Well, it's not like he said anything there, but it still made me get all soft and melted and queasy. I have to put all of this out of my mind for the afternoon. I need to work on a paper and get to class by 2:00 pm. I wish I could see him today though. I feel like I have very little control over anything right now. I need to do something good for myself, like starting to exercise or something...

That's it for now... maybe I'll write some more later.

Oh! PS: The Stallion called me yesterday in the middle of the afternoon "just to see how my teaching went." Weird, right? VJ had some thoughts on that one, but I'll save that for the next post...

Mourning Dad, Celebrating Mom

Another week, another weekend... I'm under major pressure right now in terms of school--heading into the final stretch of the semester, so I may not be able to blog as frequently until June. I have a shitload of papers to write and papers/exams to grade before then.

On Friday after teaching, NextDoorNeighbor called and asked if I wanted to join him and his friend Hugo for sushi. The place they were going to has an "all you can eat" sushi special for $19.99 and an "all you can drink" sake/wine/beer special for $12.99. We were supposed to meet at 10:00, but I got bogged down on the phone with BigSis and still wanted to stop by Cheers. I left my place at around 9:00, braving the rain, and had a few rounds of whiskey. IrishBird bought me a drink, but we didn't have a chance to gossip about my night with Narc. It was still lingering in my mind, as I had just left his place that morning, and I wasn't sure where to put all of that.

I got to the sushi place at around 10:30. There, NextDoorNeighbor, Hugo and I got pretty drunk. The conversation turned a little raunchy. NextDoorNeighbor started complaining about how he hasn't been laid since the night of his dinner party, and he told me that I had to help him find some action. I promised to try.

The sushi place kicked us out at about 12:15 am as they were closing up. We headed to a bar called Sutton Place, which normally is a bit too much of a meat-market for my taste, but would serve NextDoorNeighbor's purposes. We set about finding him a girl.

Target # 1--

He saw a cute girl standing with a bunch of friends over near the bar.

"What should I do, Hyde?" he asked. "How should I approach her?"

I had fun playing the "expert." "Okay, just come with me," I told him.

I walked over to the girl, as if I were trying to make my way through the crowd over to the bar for a drink.

"Don't you just hate when it's this hard to even get a drink?" I said to her.

She agreed, and that sparked a conversation. It turns out she's from Boston. We chatted about that for a little while. NextDoorNeighbor was still kind of standing akwardly behind me.

"Oh, by the way, this is my friend, NextDoorNeighbor," I said, gesturing towards him.

"Oh, hi! I'm -----" she smiled.

"NextDoorNeighbor, can you just pick up my drink?" I asked. "I want to go find Hugo. I'll be right back. Excuse me."

I exited the scene, leaving him to do his thing. I didn't see Hugo, but instead headed into the ladies room. There was a really drunk, scantily clad, overly made-up blonde checking herself in the mirror. She was dressed like she was in her 20s, but looked like she was in her 40s.

"I have to ask you," she slurred, "what do you think I should do?"

"What's the problem?" I asked.

"Well, there's this guy that I'm so into tonight. I really want to get with him. But there's this other guy that I'm seeing. And he's so boyfriend-material."

"Is the boyfriend-material guy here tonight?" I asked.

"Well, no..."

"No? Then go have fun!"

She burst out laughing. "Omigod! I love you!" she said. "You're here as an angel!"

(Well, I do what I can...)

I left the ladies room.

Upon my exit, I saw NextDoorNeighbor standing alone.

"What happened to the girl???"

"Blew it, I guess. She went back to talking to her friends."

"Okay, we'll try again," I reassured him.

Target #2--

NextDoorNeighbor noticed another girl he liked.

"What should I do?" he asked.

"This time go up and talk to her yourself."

"No, you come with me!"

"No, you've got to practice."

"What should I say though?"

"I don't know, just ask her anything..."

"Like what? It's gonna be dumb."

"Just ask her if she knows how late they're open here. Tell her that you have a friend coming to meet you, and you wanted to know... C'mon, what's the worst that can happen?" I asked, "She'll blow you off? If that happens, it's no big deal, just come back over here and talk to me!"

"Ok." Off he went.

He was back a second later. I guess she wasn't interested.

"It's okay," I said. "No big loss. For a guy, you have to remember--it's mostly a numbers game."

After that we split up for a while. When I next saw NextDoorNeighbor, he had found Hugo and the two of them were talking to two girls in the backroom of the upstairs bar. I joined them and we all hung our for a while. I was wasted at that point. It was nearly 2:00 am and I texted Narc:

Up? Bored? What movies did you make it to? Today was a killer day 4 me. Out w/friends. Wanna meet up again later tonight? Lol, -H

Needless to say, I did not hear back from him. (Surprise, surprise...)

Target #3--

NextDoorNeighbor was into one of the two girls and kept buying her drinks. She seemed very friendly and open to his advances. Good. It was working. At some point, their friend Adam came over and joined our group. Her attention shifted away from NextDoorNeighbor and towards Adam. Before we knew it, they were lip-locked and she was straddling Adam's lap.

"What the hell?" I said to her friend. "Are the two of them together?"

Her friend seemed so embarassed.

"Well, no, they're not. Sorry. She just gets like that. When they're drunk, she and Adam always end up making out..."

Okay, so Sutton Place was not a success. Poor NextDoorNeighbor! We decided to cut our losses and head to Fubar. I think it was around 2:45 am. Hugo went home at that point, and my memory starts to fail me. After Fubar, I have a brief flash memory of wanting to stop by Cheers again, but when we got there it was closed, so it must have already been after 4:00 am. We were so fucking drunk. NextDoorNeighbor recalls that it was "the blind leading the blind."

I always try to piece together forgotten moments by looking at my cell phone records. My phone shows an outgoing call to Narc at 4:20 am (lasting 48 seconds) and an outgoing call to the Stallion at 4:23 am. Then, I have an incoming call from the Stallion at 4:24 that lasted for 3 minutes and 33 seconds. What the fuck must that have been like? In any event, I passed out at some point and woke up on my couch the next morning.

When I opened my eyes I felt like total shit and looked even worse. I had to pull myself together because I knew that B was coming over by 11:00 to be my "emotional escort" for the day. (As you know, it was the 15 year anniversary of my dad's death). I just felt awful on every level. When B arrived even though he was being sweet, the smallest thing triggered tears from me. (To make matters worse, when I went to the bathroom, it was super painful and there was blood in my urine. It has been hurting ever since last week and that craziness with the Stallion. As I'm not one to take good care of my health, I just ignored it, but it's gotten to a point where I think I better get to the doctor.)

B and I went out for lunch and I continued to be weepy. Then we headed uptown to pay a visit to the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. It's one of my favorite places in the city, and I have such a spiritual connection there. When I was in college, I used to spend hours upon hours sitting in the nave, writing in my journal, being moody, and letting my imagination run in the wildest directions. I haven't spent much time there since graduating. In 2001 a huge fire destroyed all of the smaller chapels and the gift shop. It was depressing to see it half closed up and not at all as I remembered it. In any case, B and I sat there quietly for a long time. I lit a candle for my dad. After that, I had to go to a voice lesson, and B came with me. I was so grateful to have him with me for the day.

After my lesson, while we were waiting for the elevator, B announced that he was going home for the rest of the afternoon because his contact lens was bothering him and it was compounded by bad seasonal allergies. It's hard to explain why this "declaration" upset me so much. You'd have to understand a lot about my relationship with B, and it's too complicated to begin to dissect here. But as much as I love him with all my heart, like all the other boys I seem to choose, B has a hard time sacrificing his own personal comfort for anyone else. I've always felt like a major burden asking him for anything. Nonetheless, I had asked him weeks ago to save the date to spend with me, as I needed his support. I couldn't bear that he thought it was appropriate to ditch me because his eyes were itchy and red!

Needless to say, I was very upset. I started to cry a little, but tried to stop short of high-drama. B accused me of being emotionally "controlling" by manipulating him into feeling "guilty." (Christ, HOW MANY TIMES have we had this conversation in the past six years???)

"Just because I have an emotional response to your actions doesn't mean that I'm manipulating you," I said. "C'mon, B! Take responsibility for the impact that you have on others!"

"So what do you want me to do? You're not giving me any other option but to stay," he said.

"You're free to do what you want. I don't want to make you stay with me," I told him. "That defeats the purpose. It just makes me feel like shit."

"What is the purpose?" he asked. "What do you want from me?"

"I want what I can't have." (I remembered saying those words to Narc.) "I wanted you to WANT to spend the day with me because it makes you feel good to make me feel good. The point is not to trap you into spending time with me by making you feel guilty if you leave! How the fuck would that be comforting to me? I'd rather spend the day alone!"

I walked away from him up towards West End Avenue. He followed me, not saying anything. I hailed a cab and he followed me inside. Our conversation continued in circles for a while longer. I cried a lot. Finally, he gave me a huge hug.

"Let's stop this now," he said. "This is silly. I love you, and don't want to make your hard day any harder. I'll stay. I'll stay because I love my k." (the initial refers to B's nickname for me.)

I started to feel better after that. We pit-stopped at a nearby clothing store because I had buy my mom a Mother's Day present. Then we headed back to my place. There, we relaxed for a while, just talking. It was so nice. I finally checked my messages (as I had left my cell phone home all day) and I had a really funny message from NextDoorNeighbor. He said that it was the afternoon and that he still felt drunk and was wandering around China Town. (I later found out that after we got home on Friday night, he puked for hours).

If you recall, I had invited my mom and my sisters to a dinner in honor of my dad. We met at my apartment at around 6:00 and B took off. Bro-in-Law came too. We all went to a nearby Lebanese restaurant that has all of the same Armenian foods that my dad used to make. It was expensive, but totally worth it for the occassion. We all ate so much! I thought the dinner was going to be difficult and sad, but I was completly wrong. It turned out not to feel like mourning at all, but instead was more of a "celebration" of his life. My mom told us again, the incredible story of their courtship. She told each of us which qualities of ours remind her of our dad. Then each of us told a happy memory or a good story about him. I really was glad. So much of the time I only focus on the trauma and the pain of growing up wtih an alcoholic. It seems like my dad--the man who he was and and the spirit and energy that I loved so much, get lost in the memory of his disease, just as they were lost to his disease in life. It's sad and unfair.

Anyway, after dinner I went back to my place and again met up with B. We had originally planned to go to the movies or something, but both of us were very tired. We ended up falling asleep really early--at around 11:00.

The next morning, I got up early and wrapped my mom's gifts. I said goodbye to B and took off for the train station, on my way to visit my stepbrother. He has made incredible progress this week! There's a lot of family fighting and family politics going on concerning his care, and it's way too much for me to get into here, but basically his mother is a controlling bitch. She has been secretly vetoing possible courses of treatment. For example, they wanted to give him a particular sleep-aid but she said "no" because there's an antidepressent in it and she "objects" to antidepressents as they might "change his personality." She is so fucking stupid!!! He's hardly present! What personality??? Arghhh! It makes me want to hit her so hard.

Anyway, this had been going on for about a month, unbeknownst to my side of the family. (She also refused three or four other measures). When my mom found out about it earlier this week, she was furious that the doctors didn't call her or my stepfather sooner. (After all, his mother doesn't have sole guardianship over him and is not allowed to make those kind of decisions on her own.) In any event, they finally put him on that new medication this week. Guess what? His focus and attention-span have improved by leaps and bounds. He is so much more interactive and less agitated. Some new things he is doing--he smiles politely at new visitors and when you leave, if you put your cheek to his lips, he'll kiss it goodbye; he is able to take food in his hands (in little pieces) and bring it up to his mouth on his own; when my mom gave him a crayon, he traced circles (which he has been working on in therapy) onto a page (albeit they were very mishapen circles); and he very slightly moved his right hand, which is on the side that has been motionless since the intial stroke. My mom said it was the best mother's day present she could ever have hoped for!

We left the hospital and headed back to my mom's house where we met up wtih my aunt, uncle and cousin (on my mom's side), my aunt, uncle and three cousins (on my stepfather's side), my brother-in-law's parents, sister and niece and nephew, and BigSis, Bro-in-Law, LilSis, JBC, my stepfather and my grandpa. We all headed to some swanky restaurant on the waterfront about 20 minutes away. There we gorged ourselves on the most delicious seafood as if there were no tomorrow. (I must have gained 10 pounds this weekend between that meal and previous night's Middle Eastern cuisine!) After that, it was back to my mom's house for coffee and cake.

At some point in the afternoon, the Stallion called me. He asked what I was up to that night, and I said that I had to be home by 9:00 to watch the Elvis movie on CBS.

"Maybe I'll just have to come by and watch it with you," he said.

I agreed, but told him to call me first. We left it kind of vague.

That night, I made it home just in time for the start of the movie. About 40 minutes later, the Stallion called me. He made sure to point out that he waited for a commercial. We laughed about that.

"I'm leaving now," he said. "I'm on my way."

I wasn't really ready to see him, but he didn't really ask. I was in my sweats and not wearing any makeup, but whatever... I didn't feel like getting dressed up for him. He got to my place at around 9:45. We watched the rest of the movie togehter. He kept kissing me during the commercial breaks, but it was all very akward. He was doing his best to be his laid back charming self, but my Dr. Jekyll is not nearly as relaxed or laid back, and I'm pretty sure that I was exuding tension.

The Stallion commented how rare it was to see each other "sober."

"Do you want a drink?" I asked.

He had the remains of my vodka and I downed a bottle of wine. (Ahh! That's much better!) We were both relaxed now, and as the movie ended, we started having sex. It was weird, though. I was in "downtime"-mode, and a "Dr. Jekyll" mood, so the rough stuff didn't feel as natural to me. He is always so intense.

After a few "rounds," I said I had to head to sleep because I had to wake up early the next morning. He agreed and we both crashed to sleep at around 1:00 am. I was awakened in the middle of the night (probably around at 3:30 or 4:00) by him having sex with me. That went on for about half an hour or so until he finished and I fell back asleep. Then he woke me up again at 6:00 to say he was leaving.

"All right, see you soon," I said, and fell back asleep.

My alarm went off at 7:30.

This morning, I just finished teaching and have to head out to a voice lesson soon. Of course, it's been on my mind all week that tomorrow is Narc's birthday, but I'm trying not to think about it.
Hope you all had a good weekend!

-hyde

Lilac Wine

It's a perfect moment for flowers. Yesterday I sat with Hammer in Washington Square Park. The dogwood trees were in full bloom. (Or are they Cherry trees?) I'm not sure... In any case, they were gorgeous. The streets are lined with sweet flowers stuffed into buckets bursting with color outside every deli. My favorite are the lilacs, gathered in bunches and radiating fragrance. When I was young, lilac bushes lined our yard, blossoming every Spring. I absolutely love them. But they also call to mind a much later "lilac" association--the Jeff Buckley song I was obsessed with for a while, "Lilac Wine."

And then I recognize the emptiness that underlies everything.

Nonetheless, Wednesday was a great day--good teaching, strong voice lesson, afternoon catching up with Hammer, and then good news from my research seminar. I found out that my paper is due a month later than I originally thought! (Hallelujah!)

Walking home from school, I talked to Bezoukhoff on the phone before settling in for an evening of satisfying television. First I was treated to Dr. Phil "Primetime" and his interview of Pat O'Brien. (While I love watching Dr. Phil, I have to say that I found the whole thing quite disturbing. What did Pat O'Brien do that was so bad? He attempted to set up a threesome, suggested calling a hooker, got drunk and wanted to buy some coke. Dr. Phil was acting like no woman would ever be able to forgive him for his degrading attitude. Shit! I better never become a celebrity.) After Dr. Phil, I caught the Idol results show, then talked to Hammer on the phone, and then caught the ABC American Idol "expose," Fallen Idol. I was very entertained to say the least. And as for Corey Clark--his music was pretty fucking awful.

By the end of that endless barrage of mindless television, I was exhausted. I felt unsatisfied though. It's hard for me to explain exactly what I was feeling, but there was a little voice inside my head urging me to get out of the house. I kept trying to rationally remind myself that it was after 11:00, that I was fatigued and that there was no need to go out, but I couldn't rid myself of that voice or that feeling.

So, out I went.
Where to? Cheers, of course!

By the time I freshened up and made it across the street, it was after midnight. When I arrived there weren't many people there, but I went over to say hello to FightingMensch and PumpedUp who were seated at the end of the bar. IrishBird came by and the four of us bullshitted for a while. PumpedUp and FightingMensch were acting like stupid frat boys, cracking dumb jokes and making sexist comments about girls. I was a little annoyed, but then again, what did I expect? I drank a lot and fast--about six whiskeys in an hour. IrishBird came over to gossip with me, and I updated her on my story about the Stallion from Saturday. She asked if I had heard from Narc at all this week, and I said "no."

"This week, I've been a 'good girl,'" I said, "although it's hard to tell sometimes."

"Hyde, you are a good girl," PumpedUp chimed in. "I can see it in your eyes!"

That made me smile.

At around 1:30, they were ready to close up. IrishBird and PumpedUp took off in one direction, FightingMensch headed home, and I headed up the street to Manchester. When I got there, Sean Duffy was on duty, and I was drunk. I suppose I made a bit of a fool of myself, but at this point, I'm loathe to care. Three guys in their 40s were sitting at a table behind me. Somehow (and I don't remember how), I got into conversation with them. I was going on and on about some adventure of mine or another and the three of them were laughing at everything I said. It was fun to be the center of attention. As we were nearing the end of the night, one of them wanted to "walk me home," but I wasn't about to go there. (This is, after all, not the Hyde of 8 months ago!)

Instead, I called the Stallion. Predictably, as it was now almost 2:30 in the morning, I woke him up. I don't remember our entire conversation, but I remember feeling stupid for waking him. After I hung up the phone, I sent myself a text, in case I blacked out and wouldn't remember the next morning. I told myself that the phone call was "all cool" and that I had made tentative plans with the Stallion for the next night. By the time I got home at around 3:00, I was pretty wasted.

The next morning, I woke up and talked to Hammer on the phone for a while. We had a really interesting conversation about my whole "personal is political" problem. Hammer doesn't think that I should feel guilty for making whatever choices that I make about sex and relationships. She doesn't think that it's politically "irresponsible" of me to privately engage in a way that doesn't necessarily line up with my public convictions. Instead, she pointed out, that I am exercising my political freedoms to express myself emotionally and sexually however I choose, and to not enjoy those freedoms and to not make my own choices would be the real mistake. I feel like she articulated her point much better than I just did here, but it was really good food for thought.

After we hung up, I got dressed, packed my German books and headed downtown to the diner near NYU. I ate a quesadilla, tried to calm my pounding head and finished my German homework. After class, Hammer and I did our sitting in the park. I couldn't hang out for long, though, because I had to head to therapy. I hadn't heard from the Stallion, so I decided to send him a text. I wanted to apologize for waking him the night before, but Hammer said that I didn't have to apologize and that I should stop approaching people so "apologetically." So I didn't. Instead, I wrote to him:

What's up? Trying to figure out plans for later. Can't be out late though b/c I have a killer work day Fri. What are u up to?

Back at home after therapy, I still hadn't heard from the Stallion. I watched some TV and tried to figure out what I wanted to do with my night. I ended up on the phone with BigSis for a while. She is a social worker/therapist and one of her teenage clients attempted suicide this week. She was pretty shaken up about it. We ended up moving from there into a discussion of my dad--a topic that always stays swept under the rug in my family. I may have already mentioned it to you guys, but tomorrow is the 15 year anniversary of his death. I asked my mom and my sisters if they wanted to have dinner to "remember him." It's going to be hard, but I think I need some kind of formal grieving, even now. The rest of the day tomorrow I'm going to spend with B.

While I was on the phone with my sister I got a text message. When I hung up, I went to check it. It was sent at exactly 9:12 pm. Guess who it was from? Narc!!!

Holy shit! My heart started pounding so hard and I just got butterflies in my chest and stomach. He said:

Going to take the evening off from writing etc, if you want to come over.

AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I called Hammer right away and started running the bath to shave my legs, just in case I decided to go. I honestly didn't know what to think or do though. I just knew I was a bundle of nerves. Hammer talked me through it a little bit until my doorbell rang. It was NextDoorNeighbor.

"Hey, Hyde! I'm drunk!" he called from the hallway.

"I gotta go, Hammer," I said. "It's a fucking three-ring-circus over here."

I opened the door and NextDoorNeighbor came twirling in. He was all dressed up in a suit and had just come from some fundraiser for work. He grabbed my hand and started dancing with me.

"Guess what?" he exclaimed.

"What?"

"I just kissed Hillary Clinton!"

"What? Was Bill there?"

"No... no Bill, sorry." (NextDoorNeighbor knows about my crush).

NextDoorNeighbor asked if I wanted to go get a drink at Cheers.

"Okay," I said.

I still had to decide what to do about Narc, though. It was almost 10:00 and I hadn't called him back. While NextDoorNeighbor was changing back at his place, I decided to make the call. Narc picked up on almost the last ring.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, it's me. What's up?" I began.

"Not much..." he said.

"Well, I got your text and... Well, I can come down. I'm just going for a drink with my neighbor first, for like half an hour or an hour."

Narc sounded down. I felt bad for him. I don't want him to be sad. (Yes, Hammer--I fucking love my Narc!)

"Look, if you've got plans, and you're busy, don't worry about it. Go. Go have fun with your friends; it's okay."

(Weird. Usually Narc is all about pressuring me to come down. In this case, he was sober, and probably called on an impulse in an instant of loneliness. Maybe he thought it was a mistake to have called. Maybe he was trying to back down.)

"No, no no!" I protested. "It's just gonna be one drink. I can come after that."

"Well, I'm just warning you, I'm not going to be all that entertaining."

I laughed. "C'mon, Narc. When I have ever demanded that you entertain me? I'm pretty easy going like that."

"Okay, then," he said. "See you later?"

"Yeah, fine. I'll call you when I'm almost there."

My heart was pounding harder than ever. I knew that I was doing the wrong thing. I knew that I was potentially confusing myself even more, but I couldn't help myself. Also, I hadn't seen him since before I knew about his New-Girl. How would I feel seeing him, knowing that there's someone else in the picture?

I packed an overnight bag, including all the stuff I would need to teach the next day and knocked on NextDoorNeighbor's door.

"Let's go," I said. "I don't have all that much time."

He was still in such a silly mood. He filled a flask with rum and started drinking it in the elevator. In the lobby we bumped into our Super. NextDoorNeighbor was putting on a big show--acting drunker than he actually was. He kept saying "I always told you I'm a cheap drunk!" The Super told me to keep an eye on him. He turned to NextDoorNeighbor.

"Listen to Hyde tonight, kiddo. She'll keep you in line!"

NextDoorNeighbor laughed. "That'll be the day!"

NextDoorNeighbor and I had a good time at Cheers. I said hi to BarMan who was doing the crossword--the same as ever! Since he was drunk, NextDoorNeighbor was especially candid. He told me that last week he heard me and the Stallion "doing our thing" through the walls. I laughed and said that I was glad that it was only him and not the "old people" on our floor living next door to me.

I had two glasses of whiskey and then my cell phone rang. It was the Stallion. I didn't pick it up, but he left me a message saying that he had been working late and wanted to meet up. I already had my plans with Narc though, so I didn't call him back. I guess I'll just call him later today and tell him that I ended up going to bed early last night.

At around 10:40, I went to pay my tab.

"Where are you running off to, darling?" IrishBird asked. "Will I see you back here later?"

"Probably not," I told her. "I have a 'date,'" I said.

"Tell me it's not with Narc..." she frowned.

"Um, I can't. Look--if you see me later, it'll be because I'm back with a broken heart."

"I just hope you're not back with a broken nose!" she exclaimed.

"How 'bout one of each?" I laughed.

BarMan was standing behind her and his jaw dropped open when I said that. (I mean, I can joke like that, because Narc has never hurt me like that in any way. IrishBird and BarMan think otherwise, so I think I really shocked him with my flippancy.)

"I can't fucking believe you just said that!" he said.

All three of us started laughing. I grabbed NextDoorNeighbor and skipped out onto the street.

I called Narc from the cab on the way down, getting to his house at around 11:00. I felt weird as I approached his building. I hadn't been there since March 20th! (And I hadn't slept over since February 25th!) He was in a strange mood on the phone, and honestly--I wasn't sure what to expect.

Usually he answers the door buck-naked, erection and all, but this time, he was wearing his boxers. I was all done up in my "going out clothes," makeup, jewelry, etc. He gave me a kiss hello, but even though it was on the lips, it wasn't a make-out kiss. This was weird.

"I'm just watching the end of Project Greenlight," he said, heading back towards the couch.

I followed him in and dropped my stuff by the door, taking a seat on the other end of the couch.

"So what's up?" I asked tentatively. "What's new?"

"Nothing," he said. "Just the writing still and it sucks. I hate doing it, and I just couldn't do it anymore today."

I wasn't sure what to do. I kind of angled my body in a different way so that I was closer to him, and kind of brushed up against him. We sat like that for a while. The tension in the air was so thick, you could slice through it with a knife. Finally, Narc seemed to relax a bit. He layed back on the couch and put his legs up on my lap. I thought that was an odd thing to do too. It wasn't really a sexual thing, more like a comfortable/couple physical thing. It felt better to have the physical contact though. I felt a little bit like an alien, or something non-material in his apartment until that contact was made. It was a relief.

Once we were in physical contact like that, it was only a few minutes until we started fucking. I felt good, and close to him, and like I understood everything, but when it was finished, all of that dissipated and things felt akward again. We went back to watching TV and chatting intermittently.

We talked about a lot of things... Well, mostly he did the talking and I did the listening. It was almost as if it were an opportunity for Narc to get a lot off his mind. Like I've said before, I don't think he shares his feelings with friends or anyone really, for that matter, except for me. He talked to me about his mom and some of his issues with her, about how he has been depressed, about his writing, and about how his dad found his blog. Narc isn't in contact with his dad (except maybe maximum once a year), but apparently his dad wrote him a short email:

"Saw your blog. Interesting."

Narc felt really weird about it, and I don't blame him. We talked about more mundane things as well-- good movies, his friend's recent engagement, his upcoming birthday, my teaching and more. At one point, he started telling me about a photography contest that he entered. He was pretty proud of how the pictures came out and wanted to show them to me.

"What are they pictures of?" I asked.

"Well, the theme was 'someone changing a lightbulb,'" he said. "I took pictures of my friend New-Girl. She's really the photogenic type, and we got a lot of good shots."

"Oh, really?" I said.

"Yeah. She's actually in Baja right now. We went to a movie premier a few weeks back and it was a documentary about Baja and she's wanted to go ever since."

"What does she do that she can just pick up and take off for a month like that?" I asked.

(As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to bite my tounge off. I only know that her trip is for a month because I found her blog. I didn't want Narc to know that I had been obsessing. Did I just give myself away?)

"Oh, well, she's not gone for that long," he said. "Just a few weeks. And she's a nurse, so she gets different assignments at different times."

"Oh."

"Anyway, come into the bedroom so I can show you the photos on my computer."

I followed him in. They were really nice photos, but she was topless in them. I asked him how he got a specific color-filter technique. I felt kind of uncomfortable, and I wasn't sure why he was showing them to me. He does like to play strange games with people though (ie the Anxious masturbation incident) and maybe he was just getting off on showing me "New-Girl" without my knowing who she is; or maybe he wanted to show me that he has someone too, since the Friday he came to my house I was fucking the Stallion. Who knows... In any case, I was kind of eager to change the subject.

We went back to hang out in the living room and ended up having sex again. This time, it was so intense. There's the Narc-Hyde chemistry I know and love! I felt a crazy feeling--just flooded with connection to him. I know he did too from the way he looked at me. It's as if there's a really intense bond between us, but just beneath the surface. Neither of us wants to acknowledge it, and it doesn't exist for our external personas. But having sex tapped into that, and all of a sudden, I felt real and whole and materialized. Afterwards, he collapsed on top of me and held me. I didn't want the moment to end and for things to go back to being akward. He started to get up.

"Maybe we should start using condoms," he said. "I think we should use a condom next time."

"Do you even have condoms here?" I asked. (He never does.)

"Oh, yeah, I have a ton of them!"

(Again, weird. Did he bring that up just so he could point out to me that he has a reason to buy condoms that has nothing to do with me. I mean, he certainly didn't care about using them two weeks ago, even AFTER knowing I had hooked up with the Stallion.)

"Well, I've got no objections there," I said.

After that, the closeness fell away a little, but it didn't feel as akward as before either. I was getting sleepy. I went and washed up in the bathroom. When I came out, he had switched on some movie halfway through--"Damage" with Jeremy Irons and Juliette Binoche. We watched together for a while, but I started to fall asleep on his lap. It was about 2:00 am and I knew I had to be up at 7:00 for teaching.

"I've got to go to bed soon, Narc," I said.

"Well, the movie's almost over, but if you want to head in to bed, just go ahead."

"Okay."

I left him there and moved into the bedroom. I could still hear the TV though, and some swanky saxophone music.

"What's going on?" I called out.

"The son's gonna walk in on their affair," he hollered back.

"Oh, I gotta see that." I got up and went back into the living room.

I watched the dramatic scene, and drifted off to sleep on him a few minutes later. Then I woke myself and moved back into the bedroom. The movie was almost over. He followed me in five minutes later.

It was so weird to be in bed with him. I wondered if he was going to instigate having sex again, and I really wanted him to, but he didn't. What was going on? I've never been in bed with him before and not hooked up. I mean, that's what Narc and I had above all--chemistry! I could tell there was a lot turning over in his mind. He was just radiating it. He pulled me in to snuggle me, but even that felt weird--stiff and unnatural. Where had our crazy chemistry gone? Why was it so different this week than it had been two weeks ago? Technically, nothing was different--he was seeing New-Girl back then too, so it couldn't be about that!

The only thing I could think of was that the last time I saw him he told me that he "loves me." Two days later he wrote me that email trying to "put distance" back between us. So now, it was almost as if he were trying to act "neutral" with his body language, and not "loving." I was really frustrated laying next to him--so much so that I thought about taking off. I decided against it though. I always make Hyde-drama at the end of the night with him, and so many times have wanted to take off like that. What does Narc hate most about me? My "emotional histrionics." He can't handle emotions--not even his own, let alone mine! Better not to rock the boat.

I slept like a baby last night. I don't remember the specifics of my dreams, but they were all delicious and they were all about being with Narc. When I woke up this morning, I was sad that I had to get out of bed. I got dressed, watched some NY1 news and went to kiss him goodbye. He opened his eyes and looked at me, drawing me down for a kiss on the mouth.

"Bye Narc, have a good day," I said.

"Yeah, you too."

And that was that. I left.

On my way uptown I talked to Hammer on the phone.

"Help, Hammer! I don't know how to process this!"

I feel a little better now, after a day of teaching. I mean, it's a little bit removed and I don't feel as emotionally raw. The butterflies in my stomach are settling down. I hate that he does that to me.

I really don't know what to think, and I still don't know how to process, but I'm trying to let it go and to just "be" and to not over-analyze.

So all I'm left with is feeling, which brings me back to "Lilac Wine."

LILAC WINE

I lost myself on a cool damp night
I gave myself in that misty light
Was hypnotized by a strange delight
Under a lilac tree

I made wine from the lilac tree
Put my heart in its recipe
It makes me see what I want to see
And be what I want to be

When I think more than I want to think
Do things I never should do
I drink much more that I ought to drink
Because it brings me back you

Lilac wine is sweet and heady,
Like my love
Lilac wine,
I feel unsteady,
Like my love

Listen to me, I cannot see clearly
Isn't that she, coming to me
Nearly here

Lilac wine is sweet and heady,
Where's my love
Lilac wine,
I feel unsteady,
Where's my love

Listen to me, why is everything so hazy
Isn't that she, or am I just going crazy, dear

Lilac wine,
I feel unready for my love

Feel unready, for my love.

Bezoukhoff and Booze

Second post of the day!

(First of all, my right arm is tingling right now and I can't get it to stop. It's really uncomfortable. That can't be a good thing. Plus, it's making it hard to type.)

Anyway, yesterday after class I had plans to meet up with Bezoukhoff. I have to admit, I was feeling a little odd about it after our text exchange last week. Bezoukhoff has become a very dear friend, but sometimes I feel a little strange about things.

But I had a few hours between class and his arrival. I caught up with Hammer a little, but she was in a rush, so we only had a few minutes. After that, I went home and watched Dr. Phil. (Yes, I am rapidly becoming an addict. He had on two teenage girls who escaped from a cult).

After that, I decided I wanted to sing. I put on the Mozart Requiem, and sang it straight through--all twelve movements. Mostly, I sang the alto part unless the sopranos had some passage I was jealous of. I tried to sing all four parts in the quartets (singing the bass up the octave so I wouldn't kill myself.) I was being such a dork. I was singing in front of the mirror and danced around, trying to look "earnest" and "passionate" at appropriate moments. I was sad when it ended, and I still wanted to sing some more. My voice was brilliantly warmed up at that point, so I busted out the Puccini. I sang "Vissi d'arte," "O mio babbino caro," "Mussetta's waltz," and "Mi chiamano Mimi." I acted all of them out, even falling to my knees as I sang "Vissi d'arte." (It's always performed that way). It was brilliant. I was hitting high C's with full force and totally enough space. It was ringing. I could feel it in my cheek-bones. At some point though, I felt my cords starting to get tired, so I figured I better stop. (That was about 7:00 pm).

I knew that Bezoukhoff wouldn't be by until 8:00. I really should have stayed home and written up a quiz I had to give my students today, but I was feeling a little strange, so I decided to deal with my anxiety "a la Hyde--" I headed to Cheers.

When I got to Cheers, I took a seat at the end of the bar, after saying hello to PumpedUp and IrishBird. PumpedUp had one of the new nickels and showed it to me. The day-shift waitresses were there and the Hungarian waitress came over to chat with me. It turns out that we both have an interest in stones. I showed her the amethyst I carry. She told me that she had a stone once that she felt beating in her palm like a heartbeat. (Huh?) I asked her what her favorites were and told her to go check out the Astro Dienst Gallery on Madison. Then she introduced me to a new girl working there.

"This is Hyde," she said. "She comes here a lot... Like, every day!"

We both laughed, but I felt a little pathetic.

"I live just there on the corner," I said in a pitiable attempt to explain away my "alcoholism."

Another of the waitresses approached. I couldn't remember her name and hoped I wouldn't be called upon to know it.

"Hey, Hyde... We were at a bar down the street last week, and the bartender there said that she knew you."

"Really? It must have been Manchester, right?"

"Yeah, that's it. We told her that we worked at Cheers and she said that one of her customers--Hyde--hangs out at Cheers all the time."

"You must have been talking to Maeve," I said. "I'm obsessed with her white russians."

"Maeve...that's right."

"I go there a lot when Cheers closes, if I still want to be out. They're always open late."

"Yeah, we were there pretty late too," she told me. "Maeve had only good things to say about you, so don't worry!"

(The fact that she said that made me worry).

"Oh, that's cool," I said. "I had a little drama there once... I was with there with a guy I was seeing and we had a little 'incident,' and since then, she always asks me if I'm still with him, even though he's an asshole." (I was referring to the night before Valentine's Day when I was there with Narc and Anxious.)

"Well, all girls go through that kind of thing... We all understand each other on that one, right?"

"I hope so!" I laughed.

(I guess it looks like I'm getting a "reputation" around the neighborhood. This is supposed to be "anonymous" New York City, not some fucking small town!)

I kind of wanted to end the conversation, so I turned back towards the bar to ask IrishBird for a refill. After that, Hammer called me on my cell. She said that she had just gotten a facial and it hurt. She was on her way to meet the Wizard who was being cranky.

As for me--I was trying to be a "good girl" and not drink too much, so I only ordered Chardonnay, but I must have had four or five glasses by the time Bezoukhoff arrived. Plus, they give HUGE glasses of wine at Cheers--fucking fish bowls!

So I was unsuccessful. By the time Bezoukhoff arrived I was feeling a little drunk. (It's so strange. Sometimes I get drunk faster on wine than on whiskey. It's like my body is so adjusted to whiskey that it doesn't fuck me up that fast. I won't feel it for the longest time, but then BOOM--all at one moment I'm wasted. With wine, I feel it as I go.) I think it was made much worse by the fact that I had hardly eaten. We hung out at the bar and talked for a while. I was genuinely having a great time. He gave me a beautiful coin-- a Mercury-head dime with a winged "Liberty" on the front. On the back there's a bundle of Roman fasces and an olive branch. I was surprised to see the "fasces" symbol in use by anyone but the fascists, but Bezoukhoff said that it's not all that uncommon.

After a while, I was drunk-drunk. I started ordering Vodkas for Bezoukhoff because I felt guilty that I was drunk and he was not. I wanted him to catch up. (He goes for my favorite brand--Kettle One. Yay! Although I have to say, it's not very patriotic for a Russian to be drinking Dutch Vodka!)

I still hadn't eaten dinner. Bezoukhoff strongly advised that I do so, so I got something to eat at Cheers. (Something decidely NOT on my diet, of course.) Later, FightingMensch came in. He waved to me from the end of the bar. I went over to say hello. He asked me what was new. What's new? Well, you guys know what's new if you've been reading this--two declarations of love in the past week from two withholding boys. I started to tell him the story (which of course included the prejudicial incident in which I had two men over at my house in the same night.) Bottom line--I was WAY too liberal with my information. IrishBird came over to try to "save me" from myself, I think, but it was too late. Oh well. What's the worst? FightingMensch already thinks I'm crazy. Now he'll just think I'm a "slut" too. Who gives a shit, right? (Well, I'm not that cool. I kind of do care what he thinks, but what's done is done...)

Soon enough, Bezoukhoff and I decided to head back to my place. I asked him to remind me to take my medicine (my blood-sugar stuff). He was shocked to see on the label that it says "Do Not Drink Alcoholic Beverages While Taking This Medicine." Whatever... I've been on that medicine for over a year now. I have my kidneys checked all the time, and I've always been okay. He had two Russian movies in tow--one about Moscow and the other, his beloved Schtirlitz. Unfortunately, neither film had subtitles, nor had they been dubbed into English.

"Um, Bezoukhoff, how am I supposed to understand what's going on then?"

"I shall translate for you, of course!" was the reply.

Bezoukhoff gives bus tours around the city and is forced to speak for hours on end. I couldn't imagine asking him to speak for two more hours just to translate a movie. It was a noble offer.

The movie ended up not really happening, though, because I was just too drunk. I was ready to pass out and go to sleep.

I feel SO bad that I got drunk for our hang-out. I mean, why oh why did I do that? We would have had so much of a better time if I hadn't been drinking. Plus I embarassed myself in front of FightingMensch.

This morning, I woke up at about 6:30 with no alarm. I had passed out early enough, that I guess my body got all the sleep it needed. I texted Bezoukhoff right away:

I feel like an idiot for how I behaved. SO STUPID! Forgive me? :-/ But thanks 4 my coin. I love it! Can we reschedule movie night? -H

He called me right back and said not to worry about it at all and that there is nothing to forgive. I felt guilty anyway. Bezoukhoff is just way too forgiving. (I guess I am too, though... it's one of the million things we have in common.)

Luckily, I was up early enough to write that quiz, take a shower and get ready for the day at a rather leisurly pace. I just got through teaching a little while ago. We just finished the Holocaust and are onto the Cold War. We're in the final stretch of the semester. After I get past WWII, it just seems as if everything is in a different place. I guess it was kind of like that in life too...

Well, that's it for now. I've got some paperwork to finish up here and then a voice lesson at 2:00. I desperately miss singing in a choir. I want to find one that meets over the summer. I need it spiritually, you know?

Oh yeah, and one last thing--I forgot to watch/tape Idol last night. Shit, shit shit! Now I'm debating whether I should try to find someone who taped it, or if I should just say "fuck it" and watch the results show without having seen the actual performances.

If anyone watched, want to tell me who was good and who was bad? (Not that it matters when I've lost my "dear" Constantine!)

A Conversation with B

In response to my previous post...

B:

Hyde,

I absolutely love it!!! I think it's the "best" thing you've ever written!! Not just in terms of the ideas, but in the amazing blend of the personal with the theoretical--very "alt dis". (Alternative discourse--one of the things I've been reading about.) But more importantly, I've been wrestling with the same issues forever as well. I don't really know what the clean, neat, easy answer is. I think you're right in that the tension doesn't necessarily have to be resolved. In fact, it probably CAN'T be resolved without doing even worse psychic violence to yourself.

"Only by accepting oneself, can one ever hope to find satisfaction and fulfillment." I hope this is true; I've also punished myself for a long time because of the dissonance between my ethical-political self and my "personal" self. This is such an important topic!!!

One more thing--

You said that maybe the tension need never have existed at all. I'm not so sure about that. I think the tension helps keep us honest? But there's a tremendous tyranny in needing to have complete harmony between political theorizing and the messiness of our everyday lives. But that leads to issues of hypocrisy and double-standards, right? To say, "I can make an exception for myself because..." Then again, all human beings are fragmented, incoherent, inconsistent. There's no such thing as a unified "I." We have a staggering amount of unconscious/subconscious material going on all the time, and we're barely even in control of the stuff that IS conscious. And all of us are a community of internal people--"good" and "bad." We are all capable of kindness and compassion, as well as hatred and even murder. Like you said, the second we start to cannibalize ourselves because of thoughts or feelings we "shouldn't" have is the second we start down the slippery path to madness.

-b

Hyde:

Hey B,

I'm SOOOOOO glad you like what I wrote. I feel like something really opened up for me. Maybe it's not such a new idea, but it hit me in a new way, and I feel like it's a new "tool" for my box.

In response to what you said--

What is interesting to me is that so much of this is because we live in a certain historical moment. The politicization of one's personal life is a fairly new thing. The article I had to read, and the other book we were assigned were about the generation of 1968. That generation declared a certain set of political ideals that weren't necessarily compatible with traditional culture (the church, the family, national identity, fixed gender roles, race-relations, etc).

You said that the tension helps keep us "honest." I think that you're right--that to be in a truly democratic world (ie no racism, sexism, classism, nationalism, etc.) requires a sort of hyper-vigilance. Cultural equality is not "natural" to us, in a world that has been historically framed by religion and the idea of "the group/belonging" and hatred and fear of "the other." That said, it's very psychologically difficult. I think we both feel that tension in religion (the Jews as a "chosen people," the Christians as the only one's who are "saved," etc. It doesn't jive with modern ideas of equality and cultural relativism).

But that said, I think it all makes me angry sometimes--having to be so "relativist." I think that's where I get my conservative streak in terms of education, and stuff. Part of me wants the comfort of hierarchy, tradition, structure, and a clear cut right and wrong. I'm very tempted to turn all "Alan Bloom." (But I suppose that's what people in the Weimar Republic wanted too...yikes!)

I'm fascinated that the tryanny of having to personalize the poltical is really a product of the past 40 years or so. I always heard that slogan as a good thing--as in abortion is a poltical issue even though it's personal. And it DOES make one more responsible--the way I treat people of other races, social classes, etc. in my personal life is a political action. I think monitoring yourself for political "hypocrisy" is a major cause of the intense focus on the individual and the popularity of psychoanalysis. We talked about that starting in the '60s too. There's an obsession with understanding the self and being hypervigiliant about the self.

If you think about it, once you attack "the system," (the traditional hierarchy and rules, like they did in the '60s), then subjectivity and personal experience is all that you have left. It makes me think of Ira Shor and why he's obsessed with not just talking about ideas, but changing the education system. It's the experience and one's personal actions that count in a world based on the subjective. It becomes extremely important to bring one's subjective experiences in line with what you think they SHOULD be. That way you are being politically and socially responsible and virtuous. I'm not sure if I'm being clear here. ..

I do know, though, that it's exhausting. I want to retreat into domesticity and "make my garden grow." I want to vegetate in front of Dr. Phil and not watch the news. I want to think that since I'm sleeping with Moe, there's not a problem with racism. I think Americans in general are EXHAUSTED by it and turn away from the poltical whenever they can. After all, once you acknowledge a political problem, you are responsible to take it in to your most internal life, and change the way you behave because of it. And that's just too fucking hard. Are we all supposed to be buying "American Apparel" just to shut down sweatshops? It's impossible. So I'd rather ignore the sweatshops than feel guilty about it all the time.

I never realized what a huge impact this issue has on my personal identity though. I always thought I escaped it somehow because I feel part of the "bourgeois mainstream." I don't think any of us can avoid it though. How can I be a woman and be a misogynist? It doesn't make sense. I'm not sure what to do about it.

One thing, I know is that you HAVE to read Luisa Passerini's "Autobiography of a Generation." I think you would absolutely love it. I have it, so I'll show it to you. It's SUCH a "B" book.

I love you so much and am so glad I have you to talk to about stuff. You are so smart.

-your hyde-

PS: I thought this slogan was really funny. A women's lib movement was against the exploitation of women in porn, but their socialist male counterparts said that it was part of free-sex, love and sexual liberation. The women called them "Socialist Pricks with Bourgeois Dicks." I SO want to be able to use that line somewhere...

The Personal is Political

I just finished reading Dagmar Herzog's article "Pleasure, Sex and Politics Belong Together: Post-Holocaust Memory and the Sexual Revolution in West Germany," (Critical Inquiry, Vol. 24, No. 2, Intimacy (Winter 1998), 393-444.)

I'm swimming in the impression it has left behind--so much so that I don’t want to do my other reading for class. I fear that this one will lose its position of mental and emotional primacy, and I’m not ready to let go of it just yet.

I have to ask myself why this article has struck me in such a peculiar way. I'd venture to guess it’s because "sex" in general and my own sex life in particular have occupied an overwhelming portion of my thoughts as of late. I'm steeped in self-analysis, and besieged by obsessive musings on Narc, on the Stallion, on my failed relationship with B, on my intermittent promiscuity and on my hopes for a successful relationship in the future. And as I fall further into the tangled recesses of my brain, I realize that it’s not with whom I'm having sex that rankles me, but rather it's the nature of those sexual encounters that I find disquieting. I observe myself frequently engaged in sexual relationships that are harmful to me either emotionally or physically. Far from removing myself from these situations, I've come to embrace them with a strange sort of satisfaction--one that I desperately wish would dissipate.

You've probably noticed by now (either through this blog, or through knowing me in person) that I have a bit of a penchant for pain. However, it’s not one that I wholeheartedly embrace. As a "modern" woman and a "feminist," my masochism in relationships has always been a source of personal shame and guilt. But it's a strange sort of guilt—not one that stems from a moral transgression per say, but rather, it's more of a "political guilt." The closest thing I can liken it to is the sort of "leftist-bourgeois guilt" one feels at delighting in unnecessary materialistic indulgences while remaining painfully aware of the social injustices at the root of those privileges. In any event, the misogyny and "self-punishment" with which I orient towards personal relationships has burdened me with an intellectual-emotional tension that I have never been able to reconcile. I wouldn't call myself a "masochist" in the classic sense of the term, as in "one who gets pleasure from physical pain;" rather, I find myself to be an emotional misogynist and a political feminist. The self that I embrace in the private sphere diametrically opposes that which I believe in and enact in the public sphere.

As such, I’ve developed compartmentalized selves--a psychological course which requires a vast amount of mental energy to maintain. To make matters worse, compartmentalization forces each part of the divided self into isolation--and any behavior when practiced in isolation is susceptible to extreme manifestations. (Hence, the non-stop self-destructive drama in my life, coupled with non-stop self-advancing achievements).

Now, to return to the essay that I just finished reading—its focus is on the relationship between sex and politics in West Germany, concentrating on the generation of '68ers. Herzog discusses the tension between militant feminism in the 1970s and the Schwanszficken (penetration-fucking) orientation of the male New Left. She demonstrates that while in conflict with each other, members on both sides of the sexual debates drew on the memory of fascism in general and the Holocaust in particular to further their arguments.

But all that is background context, and for my purposes is beside the point.

What stood out to me as relevant to my personal dilemma was one passage in particular--one that I've reproduced below. (I've added the bold lettering).

"One left man, calling himself 'a dinosaur,' 'a relic from the so-called Softie-era,' generated consternation in the Frankfurt scene by confessing in 1977 that 'despite my best efforts I can no longer find the unbroken red thread. My most beautiful screw ever was on the morning when the news came over the radio of the death in Stammheim. [announcing that three of the imprisoned left terrorists from the Red Army Faction had committed suicide.] We were both for a long time completely numb. Then we fucked pretty brutally; then we were totally empty.' Responding to the outrage of the editors that he was getting off on other people's suffering and thereby disengaging sex from politics in the most offensive way, the 'dinosaur' tried to sort through his feelings once more. First he complained that the editors should not have accompanied their statement of disgust about him with such a hurtful caricature--as though the 'dinosaur' spent his time masturbating while thinking of the suicides. The 'dinosaur' accused the editors of imitating the Sturmer (the influential Nazi magazine filled with racist images of not only big-nosed but also hyper-sexualized Jews). And the 'dinosaur' also reflected further in self-critical anguish on his own and everyone else's confusions:

"The suicides in Stammheim did not make me horny. They made me feel rage, sadness, helplessness. In this situation I could--and that is first of all my brokenness, maybe--screw, specifically in this rage and mourning. I could screw AGAINST ALL THAT and was simultaneously driven by something outside myself, was a victim, okay, maybe I also turned the woman with whom I was having sex into a victim. In any case I was empty, and my body could speak, against the speechlessness, that we, I guess, all felt. Or didn’t you feel it? With you apparently it's not like that. Sex must be integrated into a political reality, you say. That seems to work seamlessly for you. Not for me. Sex and relationships and politics, with me, that’s sometimes separate, sometimes opposed." (Herzog, 430).

By the time I finished my passage, I felt somewhat forgiven. I realized that the personal doesn't have to be political, that I don't have to resolve that tension. Perhaps the tension never should have existed at all. I don't know why I needed somebody else to tell me that, but it somehow made sense to see it in print. (The authority of the printed word certainly works wonders!)

Maybe if I can let go of that tension and end this self-berating, I will be able to free myself of the burden of unsatisfying relationships.

Only by accepting oneself, can one ever hope to find satisfaction and fulfillment.

Wouldn't you agree?

Kickin' It! (Stallion Style)

Hope you all had a fabulous weekend!

I have to add a little disclaimer here again, that this post might be a little "too much information." Also, before I get into talking about my weekend, I need to go back a bit and say a few more words about Friday night.

First of all--the funniest part about being at Scores with NextDoorNeighbor: Two gorgeous blond strippers approached us, trying to get us to buy a lap-dance. NextDoorNeighbor struck up a conversation. It turns out they're Russian. He started talking to them in Russian, and I started telling them about my summer in St. Petersburg. No lap-dance was had, but I thought it was so typical of us!

Second of all--On Friday night I got to meet Sunshine! I'm glad she says that she had fun. I feel bad that I don't have much more to say about it here, but I was pretty drunk by the time she arrived at Cheers with her friends. As such, I feel like I'm not the best judge of the evening. (Sunshine, if you want to comment on it at all, feel free!) Why did I get so drunk and high on Friday? Mostly because I was all thrown off by the recent discovery of Narc's "new girl's" website. Ughh! In any case, Sunshine and I spotted each other as she made her way to the back of the bar. It was strange. I ordered rounds of drinks for us and tried to point out all of the various characters from my blog (IrishBird, PumpedUp, BarMan, etc.) But as it was karaoke night, it wasn't so amenable to talking. I'm glad that she got to see Cheers, but the next time she's in NY we'll have to do something that is more conducive to a good long chat.

I totally don't remember the end of the night or how I got home. All I know is that I felt like shit the next day; my head was pounding; and I had several outgoing and incoming calls on my cell from the Stallion.

At around 1:00 pm on Saturday afternoon, the Stallion sent me a text:

So, will see you 2nite between 9 and 10?

What? Oops! Did I talk to him and make plans with him while I was drunk? No way! I had to do something about that because I had already scheduled dinner plans with my friend NV. I called NV and did some shuffling, moving my dinner plans up an hour. Then I called the Stallion and told him that I could meet him at around 10:00 pm. He said that he was "sorry" he couldn't come fuck me on Friday night, and that he had wanted to really badly. (Is that what I had called him for? I have a lot of gall!) He said that he was stuck at home because he had to take care of his mom. I told him that I didn't even remember talking to him. (Maybe that upset him, but oh well...).

"So, what are you up for tonight?" he asked.

"Um, I don't know," I said. "Nothing too crazy, I guess..."

"Nothing too crazy? Now that doesn't sound like the Hyde I know and love!"

I laughed.

It was raining out that day and I really didn't feel like doing much of anything. I didn't even feel like sticking to my dinner plans, but I hadn't seen NV in a really long time. Also, I was feeling pretty nervous about hanging out with the Stallion. I wanted a "low-key" evening, but I was worried about not knowing what to say to him or how to act if I was not being "drunk-Hyde" and if it wasn't going to be all about fucking. So bottome line--I felt weird...

In any event, I met NV at 7:00 at a crappy soul food sports bar/restaurant in our neighborhood. NV was obsessed with finding someplace "happening" to eat. I don't know what the point of that is. Why would one want to go to a crowded restaurant? Who gives a shit if it's "happening?" I guess I'm really not a "New Yorker" in that way. I had a good time, though. He and I are both self-obsessed people. First I updated him on a lot of my drama and then he set about telling me all of his. He seems to go through a new relationship every week. He just started dating some new guy and apparently thinks that this time he's found "the one." He entertained me with stories of some crazy underwear party/orgy. I thought I was wild? Well, from the way NV tells it, I've done "nothing" compared to some of the stuff that goes on in New York's gay scene.

After dinner we went over to Joshua Tree for a few drinks. I had two glasses of wine and a few sips of beer. (Some representatives from Budweiser were there giving out free bottles of Bud's new "classy" beer. Not worth the calories for me though. I'm so not a beer-girl.)

I was nervous about being late to meet the Stallion. (Remember, things have been precarious between us ever since last Friday when I had Narc and the Stallion over at my place at the same time). I got back to my place at just about 10:00. I scurried to straighten up and to fix my hair. (The rain had completely destroyed it). There was no need to rush though, because the Stallion called and said that he wouldn't be over until around 10:30. Just then, NextDoorNeighbor called me.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I don't know, Hyde," he said despairingly. "I'm turning 25 this year...25! And I'm so unsettled and I still haven't found 'the one!'"

What?!?!

I told him to come over to my place to talk. A minute later when he arrived, I seriously scolded him for such foolish talk. 25 is so fucking young! Especially in New York City. It's odd here to get married when you're under 30 unless you've been dating the same person for your entire life. (That's like my sister--she and her husband were together for 8 years and finally got married when she was 25. They still aren't planning on having kids yet for a while though. Who can fucking afford kids in this city anyway?) Besides, at least NextDoorNeighbor doesn't have to worry about a biological clock. I thought the whole conversation was ridiculous.

He went on to tell me that he went to visit his grandfather that morning and told his grandpa that we had gone to Scores. Funny. I could never tell my grandparents something like that! He also wanted to know all about my meeting with Sunshine. He doesn't read my blog (I won't give him the address), but he knows that it exists and I told him that Sunshine would be in town, etc. I thought it was cute how excited he was about that.

I walked NextDoorNeighbor to the door and we were still talking, standing in our respective doorways, halfway in the hall, when the Stallion arrived. He and NextDoorNeighbor had met last week at FuBar, so they greeted each other and exchanged some friendly banter. They seem to really like each other (except for the fact that NextDoorNeighbor's opinion of the Stallion is tempered by other stuff I've told him).

As soon as we said goodnight to NextDoorNeighbor and shut the door, the Stallion grabbed me and pulled me in.

"Come here, cutie," he said.

I felt akward.

He started kissing me, right up against the door and that went on for a good five minutes or so. After that, we went straight away to having sex.

I didn't feel akward anymore.

The Stallion had a lot of energy. He seemed psyched for the night. I had no complaints. When we were both thoroughly exhausted (or at least it seemed so to me), he looked at me.

"So, what do you want to do tonight?"

"I'm game for anything," I said. "Really, it's up to you."

He smiled at me, and pulled me up next to him on the couch.

"Hyde, you really are something," he said.

"Thanks, I guess."

"No, seriously. You're just one of these amazing characters. Just this really interesting character that came into my life. You're one of a kind!"

I never thought of myself as a "character" in the Stallion's life; rather, I've always seen him as a character in my life. I mean, I guess recognizing the reversal is not particularly profound, but it felt strange to me when he said it. Somehow, it was empowering.

We decided to head to the bar on the West Side where Stallion's friend "the Bouncer" used to work. (Yes, the same place with the bartender who attacked me. For more on that, see my post on February 5th, "The story of the bouncer..."). I told the Stallion that I would only go there if that guy wasn't on duty. The Stallion knows a lot of the people who work there. He said he's been hanging out there for years, and he promised me that would be "all cool."

At the bar, the Stallion was all over me. His body language was very possessive, but in a way that made me feel good. He kept holding my hands, and standing with an arm around my waist, or with both of his hands on my hips. He kept giving me little smacks from behind. If anyone else went to talk to me, even just to ask me to pass them something, or to see if they could get through to the bar, he would pull me in closer next to him.

We had a good time people watching. He downed a pitcher and a half of beer and I had about four whiskeys. He was getting pretty tipsy, but I still wasn't feeling it. Although the place was crowded, we finally got a seat in a booth. We started kissing for a while. He kept complimenting me, telling me that he loves this and that about me, etc. I'm not very good at taking compliments, and I wasn't drunk enough to be "empowered-Hyde," so I still felt kind of weird. Eventually, though, the alcohol started to kick in a bit and took the edge off.

The Stallion was looking to score some coke there. I told him that he could "do what he wanted," as long as I wouldn't get into any trouble for it. I didn't want to be involved in a street purchase. It was still relatively early for that though, and he didn't seem to be trying very hard, so I wasn't surprised at his lack of success. I told him that I still had some left at my place and that he was welcome to it if he wanted it. Then his friend Mike called. Mike said that another friend of theirs would be spinning at some lounge down in the West Village later that night. He asked the Stallion what he was up to, and invited him to come along.

"I'm up in midtown, hanging with Hyde right now," he said. He laughed kind of akwardly.

I couldn't hear what Mike said in return, but I definitely got the impression that Mike either doesn't approve of me, or that they were making a joke about me. Mike is the friend who came out with us the night that Anxious and I went to that party in Brooklyn after which she hooked up with BulgarianGuy. (For more on that, see my post "Friday Night Lights" from March 21st). The Stallion told Mike that we would be down there in half an hour. Then we decided to pit-stop back at my place for various indulgences.

We got back to my place at around 1:30 am. Typically enough, before 5 seconds had passed, the Stallion was stripping again. This guy is a fucking insatiable! A fucking machine! (That would become even more evident the next morning). After going at it for a while, I brought out some "medicine" for him, and I did some myself. He cuts really huge bumps, so it was much more of a hit than I'm used to. I felt it right away. I think because I had been drinking, I didn't feel edgy from it, but instead, I just got super spacey and my eyes wouldn't focus right. He thought it was "cute" because he could tell I was "flying high." He was being kind of protective and affectionate towards me.

At some point, I looked at the clock.

"Um, Stallion, we've been here way more than half an hour," I said. "Isn't your friend waiting for us?"

"Shit, that's right. We should get going."

On the way to hail a cab, we walked past Cheers. The doors were swung wide open and IrishBird was singing. I poked my head inside and blew her a kiss.

"Don't worry, I'm not going in," I told the Stallion. "I know you don't like it there."

"It's not that I don't like it there," he said. "It's just that I think they don't respect you, and I want better for you than that."

"Yeah, whatever," I said. (For more on that issue, see my March 25th post "Falling off the Stallion").

"Look, Hyde," he said, taking my hand. "As long as we're on that, I do want to talk to you about something more serious."

"What do you mean?"

(Uh oh. What was coming now?)

"Well, girl, I want you to know how important you are to me," he began.

I looked at him surprised.

"I mean, what we had last year was amazing," he said, taking my hand.

(He's referring to the two-week fling we had at the end of last July, just before he moved to California).

"I felt like it was different then, with us," he said. "We had such a connection, and you may not want to hear this, but it really changed my life. It really helped me figure some things out...clarify things. It helped me figure out what I want in life, you know?"

(I wasn't sure what to say or what he wanted from me. He's right, though. Things had felt different in July. I knew that as soon as I saw him this past February. I think it has a lot to do with Narc, and what I've been going through with that).

"Things were different then, Stallion," I said. "For one, I wasn't seeing anyone except you, so I was in a totally different emotional place. At this point, though, I think that the whole Narc thing has made me much more sensitive on a lot of levels. Plus, we had just bumped into each other after four years. Now I've been seeing a lot more of you, and it's just harder for me to let things roll off lately."

"Well, you've got to let thing's roll," he smiled.

(My "roll off" comment was in reference to an earlier conversation. The Stallion had been telling me that he thinks his mother is going to die soon. I told him "not to say that." As you know, I'm kind of sensitive about that stuff, especially right now. Then we started talking about how he sees life as temporal while I hold on to things. He told me that he thinks it's important to learn to "let things roll.")

"I just don't want you to feel like you're second place to me," he said.

"Well, but I am second place. And that's okay," I added. "I mean, that's the deal... That's what you and I have."

"No, really," he said. "You're too amazing to be second place ever. You deserve to be happy and I completely want that for you. I want you to find someone who will see how amazing you are and make you happy."

"Thanks." (Where was this going?)

"And there's something else I've been wanting to say," he looked at me pretty intensely.

We were standing in the rain on Second Avenue under a tree. The rain rolling off the leaves was dripping in fat raindrops into my hair.

"I didn't say this to you before because I didn't want to make things harder for you...to confuse you any more than you already must be..."

(He looked like he was having trouble figuring out how to say what he wanted to say).

"But seriously...and I am serious about this Hyde, I don't want you to think it's just the drugs talking..."

"What? Just say it already."

"Well, I love you."

(What?!?!)

"I know it's weird for me to say it like that, but I've been wanting to tell you that."

(Now I didn't know what to think!) I didn't say anything.

"Yeah, I know, I know..." he said. "I know what you must be thinking. But I totally think it's possible to love more than one person at a time because I do. I just feel this connection to you and have been thinking about you since the summer...you've been present for me all this time, you know?"

"Well, thanks," I said. I was hesitant. (But not too hesitant. Thank God for drugs and booze!)

"I mean, on the one hand," I began, "that does confuse things. On the other hand, of course it's good to know that... To know that I'm not just interchangeable or some random booty call."

He laughed. "Even if you were just a 'booty call,'" he said, "you're definitely not one that's 'interchangeable,'" he said. "I've never met anyone like you."

I laughed. He and I just have some crazy sexual compatability and we both know it. I guess to make matters more confusing for him, I think that he and his girlfriend have really bad compatibility in that department.

It doesn't matter though. The whole conversation was confusing to me. I don't love him; I do love Narc. And I don't feel an amazing connection to the Stallion. I think he's fun to be around. I mean, we have conversations about life and its meaning and all that kind of stuff, but I have those kinds of analytical conversations all the time with many of my friends. I don't think that he does. He seems to think that it's something unique between us, and that everything out of my mouth is brilliant. I don't think so. But it left me not really knowing what to say.

Our conversation went on like that for a while longer. The Stallion said that he was so glad to spend the night with me, and to have the chance to really talk to me, considering that things were so weird the past few times we had seen each other. He said that he felt like things had gotten fucked up between us, but that we were finally restoring things to what he thinks is an "awesome relationship," and rebuilding what we had last summer. (I was still a little confused about all of this. I thought what we had last summer was just really amazing sex.)

We were standing very near to where his car was parked. He put his arms around me.

"Listen, why don't we go 'talk' in the car for a while?" he suggested.

"I don't think so. We may both be rolling, but I'm not going to fuck you in your car," I told him. "Besides, Mike is waiting."

He laughed. "All right, girl, fair enough."

"Why don't I just drive us down there?" he asked. "It'll be faster, and we can save money on the cab."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I shot him a look. "My brother is in the hospital from drunk-driving. You just did a shitload of coke and we've been drinking for hours. I don't think so!"

"Okay, okay."

We grabbed a cab.

(What the fuck, though!)

In the taxi, the Stallion kept up with the emotional stuff. He kept telling me that he "loves me," that he "wishes the best for me all the time," that he "thinks about me all the time" and that he "worries about me." He asked me if I had fucked Narc last week. (I guess he didn't hear us). I told him that I had, but the next day, after the Stallion had left. (Nothing wrong with a little white lie, right?) He said he's sorry that things are so tangled. He insisted over and over that he doesn't want to complicate things for me; rather, he only wants to make sure that I know he's not "just using me" for sex.

Well, whether he likes it or not, I am confused. To be honest, you guys--I'm not really sure what to make of all of this.

When we got out of the cab, he told me to "just be chill" around Mike.

"Why? What's up with that? Does he have a problem with me or something?" I asked.

"It's not that he doesn't like you," he said. "It's just that he was there that day that you kissed that other guy in front of me. He knows about the feelings that I have for you. He knows how I feel about all this, and he's just watching out for me, you know? Just being a good friend..."

"I really don't think that ever happened!" I protested.

(I just don't remember kissing anyone that night! First of all, I usually don't get like that in public! (I'm not one for major PDA). And second of all, none of the "eye-witnesses" that I spoke to about it (IrishBird, Anxious, etc.) recall seeing anything of the sort.)

"Well, whatever," he said. "The point is, that he's just protective of me. He knows I have feelings for you and doesn't want to see me get hurt from all this."

What??? Was I in the fucking twilight zone??? The Stallion's friend is trying to protect him from me?!?!?

In any case, he took me by the hand and led me inside. The place was called "Mouton." He knew a lot of people there and started introducing me around. Again, it was weird. He had his arm around me the whole time as if he were my boyfriend. Don't these people know his girlfriend? I mean, he's been with her for over four years!

Mike said he had bought me a whiskey sour. I thought it was sweet that he remembered I drink whiskey. He went to fetch it and I prayed that I wouldn't sugar-crash from the sour-mix, accepting the drink anyway.

After a while, we headed upstairs past the DJ booth to a balcony lined with couches and little tables. The couches were separated by hanging curtains on tracks (the kind you see around hospital beds) that you could pull around for more privacy. I was feeling really high, and just enjoyed checking out the strange crowd. One of the Stallion's friends was a hippy with long dreds, tattoos and a wife-beater. He was hopping around doing some strange dance that temporarily transfixed me. Another of his friends just sat staring straight ahead. He looked stoned off his ass. I hoped that I didn't look that obvious.

Mike headed back downstairs to refill our drinks. I gave him a $20 and told him to buy himself a drink on me. I don't know why I did that. I guess just I want him to think that I'm a "nice girl."

Later the Stallion pulled the curtains around our little spot and started trying to make out with me. It was just for a little while though because a waitress popped by to clear our glasses and I got a little self-conscious about doing that in public.

After a while, the Stallion and Mike went downstairs to dance. I was too fucked up to join them. Instead, I opted to stay where I was, watching the strange crowd.

"Are you going to be okay?" the Stallion asked.

"Yeah, just don't take off and leave me here, okay? I'm feeling a little out of it."

"You know I would never do that to you," he said.

I smiled.

Later, when I got a little bored, I went dowstairs to see what the boys were up to. I had to very carefully navigate the staircase. The boys were standing by the bar, talking about some cross-country drive that they're planning. When he saw me approach, the Stallion put his arms around me drawing me in. While I have to say that I enjoyed the possessive/protective body language, it did further confuse me. While we finished off another round of drinks, the three of us got into some meaningful conversation human nature and relationships. I kept apologizing for being inarticulate. I was sure that I was incoherent from the drugs, but the Stallion assured me that I made perfect sense. They seemed to think that what I was saying was smart, so whatever...

At around 3:45 am, the bartender gave "last call." The Stallion and I said goodbye to Mike and caught a cab back uptown. When we got to my corner, we could see that the doors to Cheers were still wide open.

"Let's just stop in and say hello," I suggested.

"Okay. But just for a sec," he said. "You know how I feel about it there."

My Cheers people were surprised to see me coming in so late. (At that point it was just after 4:00 am).

"I guess I missed last call," I joked.

I moved to the back to say hi to IrishBird where she was counting up the register with PumpedUp.

"Where were you guys tonight?" she asked.

"No Scores?" PumpedUp laughed.

I tried to recall the sequence of events and tell her where we had been. The Stallion gave a "what's up?" to BarMan and shook his hand. BarMan shot me a huge smile. I think they were all confused about why I was there with the Stallion when I had shown up with those bruises on my throat two weeks ago--especially since I've been pining and whining about being in love with Narc all week! I think they must all think I'm fucking crazy.

The Stallion headed to the back of the bar towards the bathroom. As he went, I spotted the FlirtyColombian across the room. He approached me and I kissed him "hello." I haven't been there on a Saturday in a while, so I hadn't seen him since the "date or not a date?" incident (for more on that, see my post on April 3rd). He asked me how I've been. At that point, the Stallion was coming back and I really didn't want any tension, so I took his hand and said we had to go. (Hope I didn't hurt the Colombian's feelings too much!)

As we left, BarMan called out to me from behind the bar. "Hey, Hyde! I'll see you tomorrow before your 24 night with B?"

I laughed. "Most definitely," I said.

Back at my place, we had a lot more sex. I was completley spent though. The night was catching up with me (especially considering that I had been out late the night before) and I knew that I was going to crash soon. The Stallion apparently wasn't finished partying, though, because he asked me if I had any more "medicine" lying around. (This must have been around 6:00 am). I told him that it was in the living room and that he could finish it off if he wanted to. (In truth, I had hidden part of my stash somewhere else, because the Stallion likes his medicine, and almost always ends up finishing what I have).

Soon enough, I was out. I vaguely remember him waking me up an hour later or so to ask me where my house keys were. He had to go move his car and wanted to be able to get back in. I fell back asleep right away, though.

I was awakened a second time at around 9:00 am by the Stallion fucking me. I was totally disoriented and a little woozy. Hearing some moaning sounds, I turned and saw that he was watching some porn on the TV. He must have been up watching it straight through the night. (This guy is seriously the horniest man ever!) Not to be too graphic (although this blog seems to be turning into one enormous "kiss and tell,"), but there's a reason that I gave this guy the nickname "the Stallion." I swear, he's just a sex-machine. He never tires and has no problem going again and again and again (even without the standard 20 minutes between sessions!) That morning, we were at at it for at least two hours without stop. I had to beg for five minutes to break here and there. At one point, I found that I just couldn't do it anymore.

"I have to stop, Stallion," I said. "I can't take it. I'm telling you--I just can't keep going."

(I never thought I'd find myself in the situation of having to say that, but I was seriously in pain. (And we didn't even do anything all that unusual). I'm still feeling it today, over 24 hours later!)

"All right, I'll give you a little break," he said.

"No, not a little break," I told him. "I mean it... I need a big break--at least an hour. My body just can't take it." (At this point it was about 11:00 am).

"An hour? C'mon, Hyde. I can't stay that much longer. How about just one more time and then we'll stop?"

"No, sorry," I said. "Really, sorry, but no..."

(Damn, this man defies all understanding. It's almost compulsive.).

"Okay, then," he said, getting up out of bed. "I'm gonna hop in the shower."

After he showered, I went in for my turn. He came in and kissed me goodbye while I was shampooing. I still felt disoriented coming out of the shower, and set about putting away the coke, the various bottles of alcohol left out around the living room, and I looked for any stray condoms. I felt so disconnected and just couldn't seem to ground myself. Finally I plopped down in front of the TV for an hour or so, and that seemed to bring me back to reality a bit. I tried to organize my thoughts on what I had to accomplish that day. I really needed to get the library, which I had been pushing off all week. I decided to make Sunday the day!

Before heading to the library, I stopped at the nearest coffee shop for lunch. (The library doesn't open until 1:00 on Sundays anyway.) While I ate, I caught up with Hammer on the phone. She's been in Phoenix all week and is coming back today. I feel like I haven't seen her in forever. (I mean, I've seen Narc more recently than I've seen Hammer!) Bottom line--I've been in major Hammer-withdrawal! She was excited to hear what Sunshine was like. After that, we talked for a while about the oddity of the Stallion's declaration of "love."

I tried not to think about any of it for the rest of the day. Instead, I tried to focus on my paper. It's slowly taking shape in my head. I'm writing about Edmund Burke's description of Marie Antoinette in his Reflections on the Revolution in France.

(A quick aside--The Stallion had seen my pre-filled library slips laying around and said "Damn, girl! You must really love school!" I thought it was funny).

At the library, I bumped into EF (a friend in my program). He said I looked very studious and hard at work. I pointed out that I had to be. After all, I still have a few incompletes to knock out of the way.

Later, I came home and vegetated in front of the TV, but I somehow couldn't quiet my mind. All of the intensity with the Stallion provoked more thinking about Narc. I was getting a little obsessive (as can happen to any girl) and I went back and checked his new girl's blog. It turns out that she's going to be away for the whole month of May, trying to get some photos shot on the West Coast. Since I was already wasting time online, I went and checked out Narc's online dating profile. The service he uses lets you see the last time a member logged on. Narc's said that he had logged on "within 24 hours." Now, I know I'm supposed to be moving on and that I shouldn't care, but Yay! It's obvious that he's "just not that into her" if he's still shopping. Maybe he didn't lie to me after all when he said that they hadn't slept together and when he told me that he still "loves me" last week. At least they're not living "happily ever after." He's had that dating profile up for months--from even before I met him in July. I used to check it periodically and he never signed on there when he was "with" me--only in December when we "broke up," and then again after our "break up" in February. Ha!

Okay, I know... I shouldn't be obsessing like that, but it did make me feel a little better about all of it, even though I know thatI need to let go.

So that's basically where things stand at the moment. A little confusing, n'est pas? I guess everything is still rolling along. Rolling, rolling, rolling...

So to conclude where I started, I'm psyched that I got to meet Sunshine, and I hope you all enjoyed your weekends!

lol,
-an ever-so-confused hyde-