Update:
Before I get into the weekend's event, I wanted to give you all an update on my brother. For the first time, we have some GOOD NEWS! Well, I don't want to get too excited because it's not "good," good-- his condition is still awful, but it's not quite as awful as we first thought it to be.
First and foremost--he's out of his coma! He still hasn't shown capacity to understand or communicate, but they say that he is now "consicous." What made the difference in assessing him behaviorally? Well, for the first time, he's shown a "localized" response to pain. In other words, when the doctor presses on his chest, he now grabs at the doctor's hand, whereas before he just flailed in every direction.
Also, he stabilized enough to be able to take an MRI. Whereas the CT scans were showing loss of function in the entire left half of the brain and a third of the right, now they're saying it's not as severe as that. He still isn't really moving his right side though (b/c of the stroke) and they can't tell if he'll have any real communicative or cognitive fucntioning at all. All we can do is keep waiting. Tomorrow he's scheduled to be transferred out of the hospital and into a long term care facility.
In general, I don't like to write about all of it here because it depresses me and makes me feel helpless, but I wanted to give you all the latest good news and to thank you for your prayers. Please keep it up!
Okay, now back to the "day to day" drama of the "story of my life":
I left you off on Friday while I was administering midterm exams, after which I went out for lunch, came home, showered and got dolled up while waiting for Anxious to arrive. We had plans that night for two parties and for her to stay the night at my place. She arrived two hours late and I was irritated because I had rushed to get ready, but oh well... I just find that lately I am hard pressed to find any downtime (or "DT" as Hammer would say), and I could have used that extra two hours to nap or something...
Anyway, our plans for the evening--dinner first, a pit stop at a birthday gathering in the East Village (for a friend of mine) and then out to Brooklyn for the 30th-birthday bash of a mutual friend of ours from college. (Anxious was better friends with him--they were both seniors when I was a freshman, and I hadn't seen him in about three years or so). I asked Anxious if she wouldn't mind stopping by Cheers for a drink or two before dinner. I wanted to tell IrishBird that the Stallion was back in town for good. I also wanted to say hi to BarMan. And of course, going to Cheers grounds me. I can't imagine a weekend without it completely. Well, Anxious agreed and we were off.
We had a lot of fun there (as always). I told Anxious the story of Shay, the Wednesday-night Londoner who taught me how to roll a cigarette so that she would be able to smoke up her "spiteful" tobacco. She asked me how to do it and I tore off a strip of napkin to demonstrate the best I could. It obviously looked like I was rolling a joint, and BarMan came over and teased me for it. I have to say, my crush on him is still going strong. As Anxious and I were all done up for the night out (high-heels, push-up bras and all), everyone asked where we were off to and it was fun to get the extra attention.
After downing 4-5 drinks within the hour, we headed downtown. Anxious was trying to keep pace with me in terms of the drinking, casually informing me that her tolerance has grown "immensly" since she lived in Europe and started drinking more. I'm sorry, but by "living in Europe" she means the two months she spent in Barcelona a full 7-8 months ago. I doubt that her tolerance has been that radically altered--especially since she's been holed up in her parents' house in Connecticut ever since! I felt like she was being "competitive" in terms of our tolerance to alcohol and it pissed me off for a variety of reasons:
1.) I've never met a woman who can drink as much as I can, and have rarely known a man who can. Clearly, Anxious is not a regular drinker, she never has been, and I've seen her get drunk on very little (and sick the next day) so the whole discussion was pointeless and stupid.
2.) She knows that I'm struggling to cut back on my drinking and to deal with the role of drinking in my life in general, and so I thought it was extremely tasteless to glorify a high tolerance, and to try to glamorize it by connecting it to her life in "Europe" and her "European friends." (To me, once you're out of adolesence, there's little glamorous about alcohol. It's seductive yes, but it's destructive and brings one to the lowest common denominator; it makes life into grime).
3.) The kind of crazy alcohol tolerance I have is genetic and I come from a family brimming with alcoholism (in fact, it's what killed my dad). My love affair with alcohol began with the very first sip I ever had, and the blackouts started almost as soon as my drinking career began. I've only ever thrown up from it once in my whole life (and that was in Russia). A normal person would make themselves much sicker given the massive amounts of binge drinking I do. It's also clearly linked to my blood sugar problems, and it has always been a somewhat sensitive issue for me. I feel like I have to constantly remind myself that I have an alcoholic body, or else I'd be well on the road to becoming my dad. (Whatever... maybe I already am...)
Anyway, when I pointed out to her that I have a different physical reaction to alcohol than most social drinkers, she countered by saying that she has some alcoholism in her family too. If that's true (and this would be the first I heard of it in the 9 years I've known her), it must be some distant relative, because no one in her immediate family has any kind of alcohol issue.
So, what the hell? I don't see why she always has to bring up such touchy issues with me, but whatever. I don't want to get stuck on this point. I have a lot more story to tell...
Back to my narrative--
We headed down to the East Village and looked for a place to eat, settling on Time Cafe, which was the first real restaurant we found near the bar we were heading to. About halfway through the meal, my phone rang. It was the Stallion.
"What's up girl? I've been back in NY since this morning! What are you doin'?"
(I wish I could communicate his phrasing and energy better in writing. I hear it so clearly in my head and it's actually really cute).
"Not much, not much... Just here hanging out with my friend. We've got two parties to hit tonight and we're just finishing up dinner. What are you up to?"
"Chilling with my friend Mike," he said. "So... Do you want to meet up?"
"Well, like I said, we have these two parties, but you guys are totally welcome to come join us."
And they did. The Stallion and Mike met us at the restaurant just as we were paying the bill. How strange, I thought... Very few of my friends have ever seen the Stallion, and only Hammer has ever met Narc, but here was Anxious, now having met both of them. It made me feel a little weird.
Nevertheless, I was so glad to see the Stallion again. He's such and extrovert and is always so laid back and fun. Easy-going, friendly to everyone, genrally optimistic and good-natured... I mean, in some ways I think it's because he's so different from me that I enjoy his company so much. (I think that's why I have that crush on BarMan too). I get really extroverted and friendly and energetic when my Hyde-persona takes over, but I can never totally lose my core self--the girl who is easily depressed, moody, pensive, and is always weighing, judging, thinking, analyzing, obessing and trying to make her life "into poetry." I've always been all extremes--a perfectionist, and someone who shirks all responsibility; a girl who can turn off her emotions and have the most casual one-night-stand, and a girl who can't wrest her heart away from a lover even when it's clearly over; I'm disciplined in school and can diet and exercise vigilantly, or I put off all of my reading, write my papers at the last minute, and drown all hope of good health in a sea of alcohol, drugs and carbohydrates.
The Stallion doesn't seem to have any of that going on. I can cry so hard that I think it's going to kill me, but then I laugh so hard that I forget I've ever cried...ever! The Stallion is always on even keel. It's why I love being with him. I love all the attention he pours on me, even though I don't care if he has any real feelings for me. I love the way he grabs me when I'm with him; I love that he had an erection the entire night and kept pulling me next to him so that I could feel it. He flirts with everyone. He even flirted with Anxious, but it made me like him even more. It's just more proof of his openness and spontenaiety and general good nature. It was so different from Narc's flirting. Narc is brooding and closed and cold; the Stallion is carefree and open and warm. Narc's flirting with Anxious was painful for me and it was loaded with subtexts and stabbing meaning; the Stallion just seemed up for a party.
I don't know... I'm transgressing again.
Anyway, we left the restaurant and headed to the party. It was at a gay bar. Some pale, skinny guy was dancing on a platform wearing only tighty-whities stuffed with dollar bills. Strange scene... I said hi to my friend, and we all tossed back a few drinks. We were out of there after an hour or so.
Trying to hail a cab to get to Brooklyn, my feet were starting to hurt from the heels. The Stallion held my hand while we walked and hung back with me because I was going slow. It made me think of the day I went to the museum with Narc when I was stuck in that same pair of heels on the way to brunch. (I had put them on for the opera I was stood up for the day before). Narc walked two steps ahead of me the whole time; I just couldn't catch up.
Party #2 was in a huge warehouse that had been converted into a bar. The guest of honor had chosen a "Communist Cuba" theme and was dressed up like Castro. The back of the bar opened into an enormous garden courtyard and there was a bonfire burning in the center. A group of people sat drinking around the bonfire singing "Hey Jude." Anxious parked herself over there. I left the Stallion and Mike at the bar itself and wandered through the crowd to check everything out. Suddenly, I heard somone calling my name.
"Hyde???? Is that you????"
Turning my head, to my surprise, I saw an old friend--somone I hadn't seen in three years. We had been in choir together in college (Incidentally, that's also where I met Anxious and GoldenFinch and B. It was that choir that "corrupted" me big time. But that's a really long story. Perhaps there will be time for it another day). The last time I saw this girl, she was going through a break-up and I was on the verge of making the decision to end things with B. We went to see a psychic together. She was plainning on leaving NY to try her luck on the West Coast. Her goal at the time--to learn Chinese Medicine. Her problem--figuring out how to fund it. She told me that she wanted to find a "sugar daddy," but until she did, she was considering taking a strange job. She wanted to work wrestling men (in private sessions) while dressed in a bikini. Sounded like a dangerous proposition to me (to say the least!), but she was there to ask the psychic whether or not it was a good idea. (I think, if I remember correctly, that the psychic gave her the go-ahead). After that, I learned from mutual friends that she had moved to San Diego, so I was surprised to bump into her now. She told me that the Chinese Medicine things was a bust; she next tried waitressing for a while and then moved back to NY and was doing secretarial work. I spent an hour or so catching up with her and filled her in on all of my drama.
After telling her a little bit about the Narc stuff, it made me start to think of him a little obsessively and miss him. I went into the bathroom and called him, trying to sound as sober as possible. I don't remember what I said... probably something about missing him lately.
After that, I went back and rejoined the Stallion at the bar. I was drinking a lot and fast. On my "millionth" whiskey, he looked a little concerned.
"Are you sure you want that one, Hyde?"
"Why? I asked defensively. "What's the problem? Are you going to start telling me how much I can drink now?" (Remember, it's a touchy issue for me...)
He looked like he felt bad and like he definitely didn't want me to be upset with him.
"No, not at all... I'm just trying to look out for you."
Oops... I felt bad for jumping on him like that.
Anyway, we decided to leave the Brooklyn party after a few hours. I called a car service to take us back to the city; we dropped off Mike at a subway; Anxious, the Stallion and I headed to Cheers. I don't remember much about being at Cheers. I do remember falling on my way to the bathroom. (Unfortunately, my leg is a little bruised now. Fucking high-heels!)
The next part of the night then gets stranger. We left Cheers as things were winding down there, and came back to my place. At some point, the doorbell rang. It was BulgarianGuy! I don't remember any of this and only know it from his retelling. The Stallion and I quickly retired to the bedroom and BulgarianGuy stayed talking to Anxious. Apparently, he wanted to crash at my place because he had a class nearby really early in the morning. He had just seen us at Cheers, where we were all talking, but didn't see us leave; however, he knew we'd all be awake. The next morning I found out that he and Anxious had hooked up! (I don't think they actually had sex though. It's a little weird though, considering that I've been with him a few times).
Anyway, the Stallion woke me up in the morning with "another round in the ring" (as he likes to put it). I was still really drunk--hadn't nearly slept it off. He showered and split before I even got out of bed. When I finally ventured into the living room, I found Anxious puttering around in the kitchen and BulgarianGuy naked and sleeping on my pullout sofa. I was a little surprised because I didn't remember BulgarianGuy's arrival or that we had even been hanging out with him at Cheers. Anxious had hurt her knee. She said that it was a "sexual injury." Well, I'm frequently afflicted with those, so I didn't ask about it further.
I made several runs to the deli and downed two big-gulp gateorades and four cups of coffee. We finally got the day rolling by about 2:00 pm and decided to go for lunch. BulgarianGuy, Anxious and I all headed to a coffee shop around the corner. On our way, GoldenFinch called and said that she was in the city for a few hours that afternoon. (She lives over an hour away on Long Island, so I rarely get to see her). I urged her to come meet us at the coffee shop and she did.
After the meal, BulgarianGuy left for work and Anxious, GoldenFinch and I went back to my place. We spent a few hours playing piano and singing--just like in the old days! It was really nice.
GoldenFinch had to leave around 5:30-ish to catch a train back to LI and I had to get dressed to meet Hammer at 7:30 for our "culture night." We had plans to see Candide at City Opera. She had picked up student rush tickets that morning. I was a little hesitant about going because B informed me that he had rush tickets to the same performance and planned to be there with his girlfriend. He's been going out with her since December or so, but I've never met her. Honestly, I don't want to meet her. It would just dredge up too many awful feelings for me. I knew they would be sitting in third ring, though, and our tickets were for fourth, so I planned on dodging them if at all possible.
Anxious didn't seem to want to leave my place, and stuck around while I tried on different outfits. I was a little annoyed because I hadn't had a single second of downtime since I came home Thursday night (on St. Patty's). NextDoorNeighbor rang my bell to pick up his tape, and he and Anxious and I gossiped about relationship stuff for a while.
Anyway, I'll pick up my story (the opera, another night at Cheers, the hospital on Sunday and how I ended up back in Narc's bed) when I have a chance to write more. Just wanted to get the first half of the weekend posted ASAP.
So, I promise... More later!
-h
Monday, March 21, 2005
How to Give Yourself a Sore Throat (again!)
The Weekend in Review:
Friday: Partied with Anxious, the Stallion (and a surprise visit from BulgarianGuy)
Hours of sleep: 5 (surprisingly, a relatively decent amount!)
Saturday: Hung out with Anxious (and briefly with GoldenFinch); went to see Candide with Hammer; Partied with BulgarianGuy (ran away from DateRapeGuy).
Hours of sleep: 4
Sunday: Spent the day visiting my brother; Spent the evening being depressed; Spent the night fucking Narc. (?!?!?!)
Hours of sleep: 2
And now I feel a trace of my sore throat returning. I have so much to write about in regards to the weekend's events, but probably won't get to it until much later today. Ughh.... I'm so fucking tired!!!
Oh well... Off to teach this morning!
More later...
-h
Friday: Partied with Anxious, the Stallion (and a surprise visit from BulgarianGuy)
Hours of sleep: 5 (surprisingly, a relatively decent amount!)
Saturday: Hung out with Anxious (and briefly with GoldenFinch); went to see Candide with Hammer; Partied with BulgarianGuy (ran away from DateRapeGuy).
Hours of sleep: 4
Sunday: Spent the day visiting my brother; Spent the evening being depressed; Spent the night fucking Narc. (?!?!?!)
Hours of sleep: 2
And now I feel a trace of my sore throat returning. I have so much to write about in regards to the weekend's events, but probably won't get to it until much later today. Ughh.... I'm so fucking tired!!!
Oh well... Off to teach this morning!
More later...
-h
Friday, March 18, 2005
New York in Green
(Brace yourselves, guys... It's a long one!)
Yesterday was a beautiful St. Patrick's Day. It finally felt like spring. And while we may not have many trees in midtown, there are a lot of glass skyscrapers shooting into the clouds. On a day like yesterday, the sun seemed to bounce off all of them, turning smudgy office windows into twinkling stars.
By late afternoon, Second Avenue had been transformed a veritable sea of green--one stupendous block party! The people's faces were stickered with four-leaf clovers and crowned with kitschy plastic hats. All around hung the strains of bagpipes and the scent of beer. When I used to live on the Upper West Side, I never noticed St. Patrick's Day much. Here in Midtown, not far from the parade grounds, and amidst the clusters of Irish Pubs, the whole world seemed to be Irish!
Speaking of the Irish, I met a few on my Wednesday night outing. Of course, I was at Cheers (comme d'habitude) alternately sipping sodas and whiskeys while flipping through some readings for school. Some man kept staring at me the whole night, trying to catch a glimpse of the titles over my shoulder. I felt very mysterious--a girl alone in a bar, downing whiskey and reading lofty material. (Again, aestheticizing life...) I also felt pretty in my brand new green drop-earrings that I had just bought that very evening before a Shabu-Shabu (hot-pot) dinner with Iron Chef on 32nd street. Catching up with Iron Chef was a lot of fun until it turned into a bit of a therapy session for her and she detailed everything wrong with her current boyfriend. I have to say, I zoned out a bit.
I arrived at Cheers at around 10:45; there wasn't much going on. I tried to stick to my reading, but my mind kept wandering. I thought about being there with the Stallion just over a week ago or so. I decided to send him a text:
At Cheers. Wish u would magically appear and meet me.
I wasn't expecting an immediate reply (and didn't get one). Eventually the crowd began to thin out.
Suddenly, with a biting breeze, the door swung open. An enormous Irishman with an enormous laugh and an even more enormous unruly red beard, burst into the bar, followed by two frizzy-headed long-haired cohorts, and joined by a couple--a woman who looked like a masculine cross between Angelina Jolie and Angelica Houston and a severe looking young man with a shaved head, bulging veins in his forearms and hands (and who for some reason, I suspected was a Vegan). Several more of their friends streamed in through the door behind them. Colonizing a good portion of the bar, they settled in and ordered pints. The bearded man had soon covered his moustache with specks of foam. IrishBird lit up. It turns out that they were old friends of hers back from "County Tyrone." It made for a very happy reunion.
In time, IrishBird introduced me to the crowd. I ended up in conversation with the bulging-veined Vegan, who sparked a really irritating debate about the French Revolution. (I mean, c'mon! Don't argue the French Revolution with a European History PhD student!) He didn't want to hear anything I had to say, but insisted on repeating over and over that the whole enterprise was conceived of and executed by the Parisian working class. (Ahem...there was no urban working class at that point! At least not one that acted cohesively with any kind of class consciousness Good God, man! Read your E.P. Thompson! "Methodism and Potatoes," right Hammer?) He then told me that Robespierre's "Reign of Terror" was merely an attempt to consolidate power in order to further oppress the working class.
"I think it's a little more complicated than that," I said. "What about the ongoing war with Prussia and Austria? Don't you think that played a major role in creating an atmosphere of paranoia? Are you a Marxist?" I asked.
He seemed a little uncomfortable.
"I am."
He reached for his beer.
"Well, you're not a very good one. Haven't you read Marx himself on the French Revolution? It wasn't 'working class.' It was a bourgeois victory against the aristocracy."
We then got in a debate about "liberalism," which he refused to acknowledge as a 19th century ideology. He seemed to majorly object to any kind of conflation between the terms "bourgeois" and "liberal." Whatever. The point is that he was royally pissing me off. I excused myself to go to the ladies room and when I returned, made a point of turning to talk to the guy on my other side instead.
The guy on my other side was named Shay. I noticed that he was hand-rolling cigarettes.
"Can you teach me how to hand-roll a cigarette?" I asked.
He looked surpised. Well, sure, but why do you ask.
"Well, a friend of mine asked me to help her with it."
(I know this sounds ridiculous, but it's true. Just two days ago I got an email from Anxious entitled "Taking Up Smoking (Temporarily)" In the email she wrote:
Can you teach me to smoke? I have a package of tobacco and I'm determined to smoke the whole thing and you seem like the obvious one to teach me. We can share it. It smells really delicious.
She explained that she had bought the tobacco for Scotland--the guy she just broke up with, and wants to smoke it all up in spite. Still, it seems to me like a desperate grab for attention. )
In any case, I asked Shay to teach me. He told me that he works in film (wanting to direct, but really just doing prop-work and stuff) and gave me his business card, which was quite odd. It says "CHANCE" on the front. On the backside it says: "CHANCE: Get out of Jail Free. This card may be kept until needed or sold." Weird. The guy is only in town for a week, visiting friends. He's a Londoner. I stuck the card in my bra and he laughed. We chatted for a while until our conversation was interrupted by an odd turn of events.
The big bearded man had at one point materialized a fiddle. His two frizzy-haired friends pulled out a banjo and a flute--well, not a classical flute, but some kind of flute. One began to tap his foot and all of a sudden, they burst into traditional Irish song. Someone at the bar began wailing away and the whole crowd sang along. I had no clue what was going on. A few people got up to dance. I felt like I was at the fucking Third-Class party on the Titanic. (Remember that scene? Kate and Leo dancing on the table "below deck?") Anyway, this went on for quite some time until the group ran out of songs they knew by heart and piped down.
Shay and I went outside, with freshly rolled cigarettes. (He had let me make one for practice).
After we smoked, he leaned into me. "I'd rather like to kiss you right now," he said.
"Um...Okay," I replied.
And he did.
"You're a very good kisser. I thought you'd be a very good kisser," he leaned in for another. (Hope he's telling the truth there ;> I'm blushing as I write this.)
"Thanks," I told him, "but one is enough. I'm not that kind of girl."
(Okay, I know that I AM that kind of girl, so you can all stop laughing now.)
I don't know why I didn't want to kiss him again. I liked him well enough. I guess I just didn't feel like going there. Wasn't in the mood? (Or maybe still in love?) We went back inside.
Yes, "love" was still on my mind. In fact, I've hardly been able to get him off my mind. And here I was thinking of him again, especially reminded by the fact that this guy works in film (just like you-know-who!). I broke down and texted him. (Yet again. I know...Such a weak mother-fucker!)
I wrote:
Talking to another film director tonight. Making me think of you...so call if you want. I'm off in the a.m. tomorrow.
I didn't realize how late it had gotten, but when I noticed the time on the Sent-Text, it was already 2:53!
Most of the Irish crew started to leave. It seemed as if Cheers was headed for "closing-time," until three frat-boy/hipster college kids strolled in. They were handing out CDs for their band, trying to drum up an audience for their Friday night show at a nearby club. IrishBird put the CD in on the bar stereo. They were actually pretty good. I was impressed. It was a night for musicians I guess. I told them that I'm a musician too.
"What do you do?" they asked.
"Well, I play piano... And I sing...opera!"
They all clamored to hear me.
"Wait! Just give me 5 minutes!" I said.
With that, I raced out of the bar and back to my appartment, grabing my Puccini-karaoke CD. Back at Cheers, IrishBird put the CD on for me. I was super warmed up (despite being tipsy) because I had been walking around my house all afternoon vocalising to Schubert's Ave Maria. (I can be such a dork sometimes!)
"Track 17, please!" (What track was it B? Of course! "Vissi d'arte!")
Those of you who know me well know that I'm usually pretty shy and humble in performance situations (it's a whole other story in private), but I have to say--I was tipsy enough to have lost my inhibitions, but not drunk enough to be fucking up my vocal technique. So I kicked ass on that song that night. The high B-flat was super full and ringing. Yay!!! PumpedUp even came up from the downstairs office and told me that he felt it pulsing through the floorboards. Yay again!!! I love performance-highs! I love to sing more than anything, and never ever get the opportunity to show off like that. It felt soooooooooooo good!
The "crowd" broke into wild applause, and the three college kids made me promise to come to their show on Friday. (I'm going to try, but it might be hard to orchestrate with Anxious coming to visit). They bought Washington Apple shots for all of us left there and we drank until Cheers closed up at around 4:30. (Pretty late for a Cheers week-night!) On the way out, the college-band kids asked if I knew a place to score some "medicine." (Why does this seem to keep coming up around me? Does this happen to other people?) I told them that I had erased all my numbers b/c I'm trying to not go down the tubes as a coke-head. They laughed.
"Same with Justin!" they said. Justin took a little bow. "So now we have nowhere to buy!"
"I feel you... " I said. (And I did.)
But seriously, I was really proud of myself in terms of the drinking that night. I only had 5-6 drinks over about 5 hours. I think 1 drink per hour is supposed to be the "normal" rate, so not bad, eh? Better than the 15 whiskeys or so I had on Saturday in only 4 hours!
Thursday morning I was able to sleep in. (Thank God!) Normally I would have headed out to Long Island to see my brother, but since I was sick this week, I couldn't risk spreading my germs around the ICU. Besides, he still hasn't had a change of condition.
Waking up (around 10:00), I called GoldenFinch. We spent a good two hours on the phone talking about anything and everything. It was awesome. GoldenFinch and I were joined at the hip for a while in college and I miss her so much. We just don't talk enough!
After that, I dragged myself out of bed and went to school for a meeting on my paper with Professor PP (or Professor "Political Perv" as he's been dubbed by Hammer). He's currently acting as my advisor for that big research paper. Anyway, the unfortunate outcome of our meeting--he wants me to COMPLETELY change my paper topic and instead to write on Adorno.
Umm.... okay....
I guess I better get down to reading!
I met up with Hammer in the history department. She had to confront Prof. PP in regards to an akward ommission of payment for some editing work she had done for him. Because she's not the confrontational type, I had to give her a push, be her cheerleader and her moral support.
"Just do it, Hammer! Take the plunge! Toss it back like it's a shot!"
We were both cracking up. She left me with a stack of German past-participle index cards to study while she braved Prof. PP's office.
The outcome: she survived.
Prof. PP is very strange though, we both agreed. There were some akward conversations taking place between all three of us. Perhaps more on that another time. I just have too much to write today on other things.
When I got home on Thursday evening, I ordered in dinner and started flipping channels. I didn't feel like doing school work or watching TV or singing or blogging, but I was bored.
Ah! An idea! I called Sunshine. It was cool to finally get to talk to her "in person" so to speak. We talked for a super long time. As Sunshine pointed out on her blog, just like Flash we may both soon be in cell-phone bill hell. It was kind of strange to talk to someone who knows so much about me, but whom I've never met. It was cool though because we definitely have our share of things in common. (Unfortunately for us, many of them concerning our approach to members of the opposite sex.)
After I hung up with Sunshine, I was planning to head to Cheers to check out the St. Patty's scene, but the phone rang again. It was the Stallion!
"So you wish I'd magically appear?" he asked. (Remember, referring to my text from the night before).
"That's what I said, isn't it?"
"Well, guess what girl? Wishes do come true! I'll be back in NY tomorrow."
"What?!?! Tomorrow? For how long?"
"According to plans, this time, for good."
Holy shit! The Stallion is moving back to NY this week!!! How the fuck should I process that one? I'm not sure how to handle the situation. He obviously wants to fuck on a regular basis, at least until his girlfriend arrives in town. But it doesn't sit right with me. I don't want it to be that "easy" for him. Also, I feel like the moral question has changed once we've passed from a one-week fling to a long term "affair." Hmmm...... While I'm not afraid of "falling in love" with him (because he would intellectually bore me to death), I do fear growing attached to his attention, and getting lazy about the search for my own "Mr. Right." I don't know.... On the other hand, how can I turn down all that Stallion-style fun? Ughhh... I suppose I don' t have to figure it all out this very second.
Anyway, after hanging up with the Stallion, I executed the plan for the evening, and headed to Cheers. (Probably around 8:45 or so). PumpedUp and FightingMensch were working the door (even though FightingMensch isn't on staff there). They were charging a cover, but PumpedUp waved me through. (Damn straight... NextDoorNeighbor and I figured out the other day that with all the money I spend on booze at Cheers, I pay the equivalent of a monthly rent! A little sick...n'est pas?) Anyway, the bar was PACKED beyond belief, and honestly, beyond enjoyment. I worked my way through the crowds and said my hellos. The weekend bouncer was there, standing on a crate, surveying the mob. He gave me a big hug and a St. Patty's day toast. He's a sweet guy.
IrishBird and one of the Columbians were working the bar. It took me a good 15 minutes to make my way over there. The whole joint smelled of beer, sweat, whiskey and testosterone and the people were so wasted that they kept falling into me. I just wasn't in the mood for it. The floors and the counters were sticky with spilled drinks and I felt like I kept getting groped. Apparently people had been drinking from the end of the parade onwards (so at least for a good four-five hours at that point.) I got my drink and manuvered towards the back of the bar where I thought it would be emptier and where I could hang my coat. The place was filled with cops and firefighters too, and the whole scene was totally bridge and tunnel. It was also most likely the most Republican's I've seen in one place since the Convention was in town in August.
At one point, members of some military-type band came in, dressed in full regalia. There were at least two snare drum players and a few guys on the bagpipes. They played all sorts of Irish songs and the crowd cheered. Ughh... I even spotted the guy who I had that "incident" with in December (he once grabbed my arm and wouldn't let go until I left Cheers in a stream of tears-- a story to be recounted another time, for those of you who don't know it). He was red-faced and bleary eyed, dressed in a kilt and leaning against the wall for balance. Yuck. I decided to leave. I headed to the back to pick up my coat.
The line for the men's room--at least 16 people long.
The line for the ladies room--none.
Enough said.
It was such a relief to feel the cool air on my face and in my hair stepping back onto the street. PumpedUp looked shocked.
"Well pinch me, because I must be dreaming!" he exclaimed.
"Why?" I laughed.
"Because! Hyde leaving? It's a first! Hyde isn't closing us out tonight?"
"Maybe I'll be back later," I said. "I just can't take the crowds right now. I'm not in the right mood."
"I'm sure we'll see you later!" he said.
"You always do," I replied. And with that I headed home.
Back at home, I tried to wind down a bit. I talked to B on the phone for a while and then to my mom again on her way back from the hospital. But it was after 11:00 and I was getting a little hungry. I decided to run accross the street to the deli for a snack. NextDoorNeighbor heard the clicking of my door and popped out of his apartment.
"Hyde! Wait! I just heard your door opening. I wanted to ask you something."
He asked if I would tape his show again. I told him "no problem." We chatted for a few minutes and he decided to walk me to the deli.
"Let me just stick my shoes on," he said. (He must have wanted the inside scoop on whether VJ told me anything about him.)
On our way back from the deli, I stopped in front of Cheers to say hi to PumpedUp and FightingMensch again. They laughed and said they were taking bets on whether and when I was coming back. I told them that I was still on my way home, but I might stop by even later. BarMan was on his way into the bar (to party, not work) and stopped and gave me a big hug. I like hanging out with him and really did want to come back later, but I was just so tired and still fighting off illness. Jekyll and Hyde had a little "meeting of the minds." Thankfully, Jekyll won this time.
NextDoorNeighbor and I headed back upstairs. He invited me in, and we talked over our late-night snacks. Finally, home and to bed!
I got in bed around 1:00 am. At about 1:30 am the phone rang.
Was it Narc?
Nope...the Stallion, again!
He was calling me from the airport, wanting to make plans for Friday night. I told him that I didn't think I could because I have plans with Anxious and an invite to two parties (not to mention that rendezvous with the band I met the night before). I told him that one of the parties was out in Brooklyn and he told me to "be careful." I thought it was really cute and kind of sweet. I don't know. I think half my interest is that it's flattering how much this guy is into me. Well, I guess he doesn't really know me, but it's a physical interest. I guess we don't really connect on any other level. It kind of sucks. Why can't I find a guy who can offer the whole package--chemistry, kindness and common interests? Why not? Is it really too much to ask?
I finally fell asleep around 2:00 only to be awakened by the phone a few hours later. My land line rang at about 5:00 am. I picked it up, still thick with sleep.
Who was it? Yep... you guessed it! This time it was Narc!
"Oh, did I wake you?" he asked.
"Well, yeah... It's five o'clock in the morning and I have to teach tomorrow," I said.
"Oh, that's right. You Friday-teach. Well, go back to sleep then. Go back to sleep, I just wanted to talk for a bit." (He sounded a little drunk--typical, but not bad).
"Okay, well, good night," I said.
I fell back asleep pretty quickly (I'm good like that.)
A half an hour later, the phone rang again. I picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Oh... Hey, it's Narc again. But, um... I don't know... If you have to teach, go back to sleep."
"I told you I have to teach."
"So go back to sleep."
"But why did you call again?"
(I know I should have just told him to fuck off and stop calling me so late, given the way he's treated me, but part of me is just so drawn to him. I just don't understand myself on this one!)
"Well, I didn't think you would pick up. I just wanted to leave you a message."
(Yeah, right. If that was the case, he could have texted me!)
"So... What's the message?"
"Well, just that I wanted to talk to you. I mean... I guess, I'm feeling weird. I mean, I'm feeling a little confessional, you know? And I don't really know who else to talk to about this. But I don't know... I don't want to bother you now..."
"What are you confessional about?" I asked.
(As much of an asshole as he is, he did peak my interest a bit).
"Well, I've been doing all this work to process out all of these negative things... You know what I mean?"
"Like what?" I asked. "Like you mean when you said you've been working out?"
(By "negative things," I thought he was talking alcohol or too much drama or something.)
"No, well, I have been working out, but it's not that..."
"Go on..."
"Do you remember when I went to see that guy a few months ago? The one who works with the 'pathwork' people?"
"Who? Your life-coach?"
"No. That's someone else. This is the guy who did the thing where I had to shout outloud and stuff...'No! No! No!'"
"Oh yeah, I remember..."
(Incidentally, if you guys are as confused as I am, you can go check it out at pathwork.org, but I can never keep track of Narc's new age attempts at finding meaning in his life and a way to let himself feel love/loved.)
"Well, I went to see my primary pathwork advisor and she told me it was time to follow up and make another appointment with that guy and I really don't want to. I mean... I've been avoiding it."
(Okay, if you're still confused, Narc has an EXTREME trauma in his past that I don't want to tell you all about; I was shocked that he was able to share it with me (back in November) and I get the sense he doesn't talk to people about it or deal with it in general).
"I totally understand. I know that can be really scary," I said. "But you have to ask yourself, realistically--what are you scared of? I mean, nothing can happen to you anymore. And whatever comes up--they're only feelings."
He didn't respond.
"Narc, what do you think is going to happen? I remember that last time you went you told me you felt better after. Remember?"
"I don't know. This is stupid," he said. "I just want you to come over here so I can come in your mouth."
(Sorry to be so crass, but that's just what he said, and I find it quite revealing. I'm sure by now you can all recognize the classic Narc progression: 1.) he feels close to me and reaches out. 2.) he realizes that he's too close and goes into panic mode. 3.) he does something mean to hurt me and make me cry or he does something to degrade and humiliate me so that I no longer threaten his ego or his sense of stability. 4.) Either I suck it up and hang in for more or I get hysterical, we fight, he blames me for being hysterical and we split for a while. What a fucking Prince Charming!)
Well, I didn't know what to make of all if it at 5:30 am. I akwardly dealt with his "come in your mouth" comment by saying that I couldn't come down there the next night because I had plans with Anxious. (Ah, sneaky Hyde! You all know that I of course brought up Anxious for a reason... I was dying to see what he would say on the "Masturbation" issue)
"While I've got you on the phone," I said, "I wanted to ask you... I heard something really strange from Anxious."
"What's that?"
"Well, that you masturbated in front of her on Valentine's Day."
"What? What are you talking about?" he asked. (He was clearly flustered). "I mean, when did she tell you this? What kind of thing did she say I was involved in?"
"Oh, she told me about it a while ago," I said, casually. "I just didn't have the chance to talk to you about it before we split."
I recounted to him what Anxious had told me.
"Well, that didn't happen," he said. "I mean, we fucked around...well, I don't mean we fucked around, but we just hung out, you know? But nothing passed between us. Nothing happened. That's just absurd. Why would she say a thing like that?"
"I don' t know. I find it unsual too," I said. (Interesting that he's bothering to deny it...Does he think he's THAT good that I believe him?)
"Maybe she just really wants me." he suggested. "I don't know. I mean, it seems like she was trying to steal me away or something. Did you guys ever date the same guy in the past or something?"
"No! Besides, I don't think that's what it's about," I said. "I don't think she particularly wanted you. I mean, I wasn't there. I don' t know what happened. But if she lied about it, the only reason she would have made it up would have been to get to me... to be competitive with me. Not to get to you."
(You all know, I believe that she was telling the truth though).
"Well, leave me out of it," he said. "I don't want to be involved in your girl-fight."
"It's not a fight. We're fine. Besides, you and I aren't together now, so whatever... I just wanted to ask because it's such a curious story. Besides, I thought you would find it funny."
He seemed to want to get off the phone at that point.
"I should let you get back to sleep," he said. "You have an early morning tomorrow. Gotta stay fresh for molding young minds!" (Funny, he didn't care about that an hour ago when he started ringing me!)
"Well, I'm giving them a midterm," I said. "So I don't have to be so sharp. I just get to sit there and administer. And besides, I can't go back to sleep now. My alarm's set to go off in less than an hour. I have to get to my office early to photocopy the exams."
"But I want you to go back to sleep," he said. "I want you to get your sleep."
"Well, I just told you, I'm not going to go back to sleep."
"Well, then, I guess I need to go to sleep," he said.
"That's fine. Good night, then."
And that was it.
The whole thing struck me as odd though. I mean, not odd that he called me drunk at 5:30 am, but odd that he called me when he knew I wasn't available to come fuck him; and odd that he called to talk to me about his insecurities and childhood trauma after everything we've been through. What?!?! I can't tell whether he called me because this has been on his mind and he really needed to talk and couldn't go to anyone else with this, or if he called me to "soften me up" by making himself sympathetic and to push my "nurturer" buttons (prepping me for a "come-fuck me" call this weekend).
In either case, it was still ALL ABOUT HIM. The shithead didn't even ASK about how my brother is doing!
Nevertheless, all day today I've felt weird. I'm not sure what to make of it. I mean, he hasn't changed a shred and there's nothing about that phone call to convince me to take him back on any level, but there it was--that amazing chemistry sparked yet again. I feel nervous and physically excited just by the fact that he called (and even the way he "insulted" me). I hate being oriented this way sometimes.
I don't know... Sometimes I think I'm an awful person. For example:
This morning I sent an email to Anxious. It seemed okay at the time, but in retrospect, it's probably a little passive-agressive of me, being that she has no sex on her horizon.
I wrote:
Got a call from the Stallion last night. Guess what? He's moving back to NY (for good) TODAY!!! He called me from the airport. What the fuck!?!?!?
Also, 5:30 am call from Narc. We talked for 1/2 an hour or so. pleh! ughhhh! huh?
(As you can see, mixed emotions).
Can't wait to see you later!
h
Her Response:
Hi!
Well, it looks like your plan to rest, relax, and recuperate from illness has been shot to hell by all the men in your life! What with staying out all night with the band on Wed., and the Stallion and Narc calling last night, I can't imagine you've had much sleep lately...
The Stallion has a perfect right to move back to NY, but theis does complicate things!
As for Narc, he's just horny, and really lazy...too lazy to go out and find someone else. Lots of men are lazy that way.
(Then she goes on about our plans for tonight a bit).
-Anxious
I don't know if I'm still trying to find reasons to be mad at her, but I thought that what she said about Narc is really obnoxious. I don't care how much she dislikes the guy, but how does she know why he called me? It's insulting for her to assume that he doesn't care for me on any level and that the only interest he has in me is driven by laziness to find someone "better." I mean, whether or not she's right, it's not her business to say so and in fact, I find that to be just plain rude.
To me, that comment was pointed and intended to put me down. That said, it's not worth picking a fight over. I'll just file it away as a piece of observational data in my mental "Anxious" file.
I guess that's it for now. I'm in my office on break between my two classes. I have to run, and will most likely not have a chance to post until Sunday night at the earliest.
Hope all of you in blogland are well!
Have a fabulous weekend!
-Hyde
Yesterday was a beautiful St. Patrick's Day. It finally felt like spring. And while we may not have many trees in midtown, there are a lot of glass skyscrapers shooting into the clouds. On a day like yesterday, the sun seemed to bounce off all of them, turning smudgy office windows into twinkling stars.
By late afternoon, Second Avenue had been transformed a veritable sea of green--one stupendous block party! The people's faces were stickered with four-leaf clovers and crowned with kitschy plastic hats. All around hung the strains of bagpipes and the scent of beer. When I used to live on the Upper West Side, I never noticed St. Patrick's Day much. Here in Midtown, not far from the parade grounds, and amidst the clusters of Irish Pubs, the whole world seemed to be Irish!
Speaking of the Irish, I met a few on my Wednesday night outing. Of course, I was at Cheers (comme d'habitude) alternately sipping sodas and whiskeys while flipping through some readings for school. Some man kept staring at me the whole night, trying to catch a glimpse of the titles over my shoulder. I felt very mysterious--a girl alone in a bar, downing whiskey and reading lofty material. (Again, aestheticizing life...) I also felt pretty in my brand new green drop-earrings that I had just bought that very evening before a Shabu-Shabu (hot-pot) dinner with Iron Chef on 32nd street. Catching up with Iron Chef was a lot of fun until it turned into a bit of a therapy session for her and she detailed everything wrong with her current boyfriend. I have to say, I zoned out a bit.
I arrived at Cheers at around 10:45; there wasn't much going on. I tried to stick to my reading, but my mind kept wandering. I thought about being there with the Stallion just over a week ago or so. I decided to send him a text:
At Cheers. Wish u would magically appear and meet me.
I wasn't expecting an immediate reply (and didn't get one). Eventually the crowd began to thin out.
Suddenly, with a biting breeze, the door swung open. An enormous Irishman with an enormous laugh and an even more enormous unruly red beard, burst into the bar, followed by two frizzy-headed long-haired cohorts, and joined by a couple--a woman who looked like a masculine cross between Angelina Jolie and Angelica Houston and a severe looking young man with a shaved head, bulging veins in his forearms and hands (and who for some reason, I suspected was a Vegan). Several more of their friends streamed in through the door behind them. Colonizing a good portion of the bar, they settled in and ordered pints. The bearded man had soon covered his moustache with specks of foam. IrishBird lit up. It turns out that they were old friends of hers back from "County Tyrone." It made for a very happy reunion.
In time, IrishBird introduced me to the crowd. I ended up in conversation with the bulging-veined Vegan, who sparked a really irritating debate about the French Revolution. (I mean, c'mon! Don't argue the French Revolution with a European History PhD student!) He didn't want to hear anything I had to say, but insisted on repeating over and over that the whole enterprise was conceived of and executed by the Parisian working class. (Ahem...there was no urban working class at that point! At least not one that acted cohesively with any kind of class consciousness Good God, man! Read your E.P. Thompson! "Methodism and Potatoes," right Hammer?) He then told me that Robespierre's "Reign of Terror" was merely an attempt to consolidate power in order to further oppress the working class.
"I think it's a little more complicated than that," I said. "What about the ongoing war with Prussia and Austria? Don't you think that played a major role in creating an atmosphere of paranoia? Are you a Marxist?" I asked.
He seemed a little uncomfortable.
"I am."
He reached for his beer.
"Well, you're not a very good one. Haven't you read Marx himself on the French Revolution? It wasn't 'working class.' It was a bourgeois victory against the aristocracy."
We then got in a debate about "liberalism," which he refused to acknowledge as a 19th century ideology. He seemed to majorly object to any kind of conflation between the terms "bourgeois" and "liberal." Whatever. The point is that he was royally pissing me off. I excused myself to go to the ladies room and when I returned, made a point of turning to talk to the guy on my other side instead.
The guy on my other side was named Shay. I noticed that he was hand-rolling cigarettes.
"Can you teach me how to hand-roll a cigarette?" I asked.
He looked surpised. Well, sure, but why do you ask.
"Well, a friend of mine asked me to help her with it."
(I know this sounds ridiculous, but it's true. Just two days ago I got an email from Anxious entitled "Taking Up Smoking (Temporarily)" In the email she wrote:
Can you teach me to smoke? I have a package of tobacco and I'm determined to smoke the whole thing and you seem like the obvious one to teach me. We can share it. It smells really delicious.
She explained that she had bought the tobacco for Scotland--the guy she just broke up with, and wants to smoke it all up in spite. Still, it seems to me like a desperate grab for attention. )
In any case, I asked Shay to teach me. He told me that he works in film (wanting to direct, but really just doing prop-work and stuff) and gave me his business card, which was quite odd. It says "CHANCE" on the front. On the backside it says: "CHANCE: Get out of Jail Free. This card may be kept until needed or sold." Weird. The guy is only in town for a week, visiting friends. He's a Londoner. I stuck the card in my bra and he laughed. We chatted for a while until our conversation was interrupted by an odd turn of events.
The big bearded man had at one point materialized a fiddle. His two frizzy-haired friends pulled out a banjo and a flute--well, not a classical flute, but some kind of flute. One began to tap his foot and all of a sudden, they burst into traditional Irish song. Someone at the bar began wailing away and the whole crowd sang along. I had no clue what was going on. A few people got up to dance. I felt like I was at the fucking Third-Class party on the Titanic. (Remember that scene? Kate and Leo dancing on the table "below deck?") Anyway, this went on for quite some time until the group ran out of songs they knew by heart and piped down.
Shay and I went outside, with freshly rolled cigarettes. (He had let me make one for practice).
After we smoked, he leaned into me. "I'd rather like to kiss you right now," he said.
"Um...Okay," I replied.
And he did.
"You're a very good kisser. I thought you'd be a very good kisser," he leaned in for another. (Hope he's telling the truth there ;> I'm blushing as I write this.)
"Thanks," I told him, "but one is enough. I'm not that kind of girl."
(Okay, I know that I AM that kind of girl, so you can all stop laughing now.)
I don't know why I didn't want to kiss him again. I liked him well enough. I guess I just didn't feel like going there. Wasn't in the mood? (Or maybe still in love?) We went back inside.
Yes, "love" was still on my mind. In fact, I've hardly been able to get him off my mind. And here I was thinking of him again, especially reminded by the fact that this guy works in film (just like you-know-who!). I broke down and texted him. (Yet again. I know...Such a weak mother-fucker!)
I wrote:
Talking to another film director tonight. Making me think of you...so call if you want. I'm off in the a.m. tomorrow.
I didn't realize how late it had gotten, but when I noticed the time on the Sent-Text, it was already 2:53!
Most of the Irish crew started to leave. It seemed as if Cheers was headed for "closing-time," until three frat-boy/hipster college kids strolled in. They were handing out CDs for their band, trying to drum up an audience for their Friday night show at a nearby club. IrishBird put the CD in on the bar stereo. They were actually pretty good. I was impressed. It was a night for musicians I guess. I told them that I'm a musician too.
"What do you do?" they asked.
"Well, I play piano... And I sing...opera!"
They all clamored to hear me.
"Wait! Just give me 5 minutes!" I said.
With that, I raced out of the bar and back to my appartment, grabing my Puccini-karaoke CD. Back at Cheers, IrishBird put the CD on for me. I was super warmed up (despite being tipsy) because I had been walking around my house all afternoon vocalising to Schubert's Ave Maria. (I can be such a dork sometimes!)
"Track 17, please!" (What track was it B? Of course! "Vissi d'arte!")
Those of you who know me well know that I'm usually pretty shy and humble in performance situations (it's a whole other story in private), but I have to say--I was tipsy enough to have lost my inhibitions, but not drunk enough to be fucking up my vocal technique. So I kicked ass on that song that night. The high B-flat was super full and ringing. Yay!!! PumpedUp even came up from the downstairs office and told me that he felt it pulsing through the floorboards. Yay again!!! I love performance-highs! I love to sing more than anything, and never ever get the opportunity to show off like that. It felt soooooooooooo good!
The "crowd" broke into wild applause, and the three college kids made me promise to come to their show on Friday. (I'm going to try, but it might be hard to orchestrate with Anxious coming to visit). They bought Washington Apple shots for all of us left there and we drank until Cheers closed up at around 4:30. (Pretty late for a Cheers week-night!) On the way out, the college-band kids asked if I knew a place to score some "medicine." (Why does this seem to keep coming up around me? Does this happen to other people?) I told them that I had erased all my numbers b/c I'm trying to not go down the tubes as a coke-head. They laughed.
"Same with Justin!" they said. Justin took a little bow. "So now we have nowhere to buy!"
"I feel you... " I said. (And I did.)
But seriously, I was really proud of myself in terms of the drinking that night. I only had 5-6 drinks over about 5 hours. I think 1 drink per hour is supposed to be the "normal" rate, so not bad, eh? Better than the 15 whiskeys or so I had on Saturday in only 4 hours!
Thursday morning I was able to sleep in. (Thank God!) Normally I would have headed out to Long Island to see my brother, but since I was sick this week, I couldn't risk spreading my germs around the ICU. Besides, he still hasn't had a change of condition.
Waking up (around 10:00), I called GoldenFinch. We spent a good two hours on the phone talking about anything and everything. It was awesome. GoldenFinch and I were joined at the hip for a while in college and I miss her so much. We just don't talk enough!
After that, I dragged myself out of bed and went to school for a meeting on my paper with Professor PP (or Professor "Political Perv" as he's been dubbed by Hammer). He's currently acting as my advisor for that big research paper. Anyway, the unfortunate outcome of our meeting--he wants me to COMPLETELY change my paper topic and instead to write on Adorno.
Umm.... okay....
I guess I better get down to reading!
I met up with Hammer in the history department. She had to confront Prof. PP in regards to an akward ommission of payment for some editing work she had done for him. Because she's not the confrontational type, I had to give her a push, be her cheerleader and her moral support.
"Just do it, Hammer! Take the plunge! Toss it back like it's a shot!"
We were both cracking up. She left me with a stack of German past-participle index cards to study while she braved Prof. PP's office.
The outcome: she survived.
Prof. PP is very strange though, we both agreed. There were some akward conversations taking place between all three of us. Perhaps more on that another time. I just have too much to write today on other things.
When I got home on Thursday evening, I ordered in dinner and started flipping channels. I didn't feel like doing school work or watching TV or singing or blogging, but I was bored.
Ah! An idea! I called Sunshine. It was cool to finally get to talk to her "in person" so to speak. We talked for a super long time. As Sunshine pointed out on her blog, just like Flash we may both soon be in cell-phone bill hell. It was kind of strange to talk to someone who knows so much about me, but whom I've never met. It was cool though because we definitely have our share of things in common. (Unfortunately for us, many of them concerning our approach to members of the opposite sex.)
After I hung up with Sunshine, I was planning to head to Cheers to check out the St. Patty's scene, but the phone rang again. It was the Stallion!
"So you wish I'd magically appear?" he asked. (Remember, referring to my text from the night before).
"That's what I said, isn't it?"
"Well, guess what girl? Wishes do come true! I'll be back in NY tomorrow."
"What?!?! Tomorrow? For how long?"
"According to plans, this time, for good."
Holy shit! The Stallion is moving back to NY this week!!! How the fuck should I process that one? I'm not sure how to handle the situation. He obviously wants to fuck on a regular basis, at least until his girlfriend arrives in town. But it doesn't sit right with me. I don't want it to be that "easy" for him. Also, I feel like the moral question has changed once we've passed from a one-week fling to a long term "affair." Hmmm...... While I'm not afraid of "falling in love" with him (because he would intellectually bore me to death), I do fear growing attached to his attention, and getting lazy about the search for my own "Mr. Right." I don't know.... On the other hand, how can I turn down all that Stallion-style fun? Ughhh... I suppose I don' t have to figure it all out this very second.
Anyway, after hanging up with the Stallion, I executed the plan for the evening, and headed to Cheers. (Probably around 8:45 or so). PumpedUp and FightingMensch were working the door (even though FightingMensch isn't on staff there). They were charging a cover, but PumpedUp waved me through. (Damn straight... NextDoorNeighbor and I figured out the other day that with all the money I spend on booze at Cheers, I pay the equivalent of a monthly rent! A little sick...n'est pas?) Anyway, the bar was PACKED beyond belief, and honestly, beyond enjoyment. I worked my way through the crowds and said my hellos. The weekend bouncer was there, standing on a crate, surveying the mob. He gave me a big hug and a St. Patty's day toast. He's a sweet guy.
IrishBird and one of the Columbians were working the bar. It took me a good 15 minutes to make my way over there. The whole joint smelled of beer, sweat, whiskey and testosterone and the people were so wasted that they kept falling into me. I just wasn't in the mood for it. The floors and the counters were sticky with spilled drinks and I felt like I kept getting groped. Apparently people had been drinking from the end of the parade onwards (so at least for a good four-five hours at that point.) I got my drink and manuvered towards the back of the bar where I thought it would be emptier and where I could hang my coat. The place was filled with cops and firefighters too, and the whole scene was totally bridge and tunnel. It was also most likely the most Republican's I've seen in one place since the Convention was in town in August.
At one point, members of some military-type band came in, dressed in full regalia. There were at least two snare drum players and a few guys on the bagpipes. They played all sorts of Irish songs and the crowd cheered. Ughh... I even spotted the guy who I had that "incident" with in December (he once grabbed my arm and wouldn't let go until I left Cheers in a stream of tears-- a story to be recounted another time, for those of you who don't know it). He was red-faced and bleary eyed, dressed in a kilt and leaning against the wall for balance. Yuck. I decided to leave. I headed to the back to pick up my coat.
The line for the men's room--at least 16 people long.
The line for the ladies room--none.
Enough said.
It was such a relief to feel the cool air on my face and in my hair stepping back onto the street. PumpedUp looked shocked.
"Well pinch me, because I must be dreaming!" he exclaimed.
"Why?" I laughed.
"Because! Hyde leaving? It's a first! Hyde isn't closing us out tonight?"
"Maybe I'll be back later," I said. "I just can't take the crowds right now. I'm not in the right mood."
"I'm sure we'll see you later!" he said.
"You always do," I replied. And with that I headed home.
Back at home, I tried to wind down a bit. I talked to B on the phone for a while and then to my mom again on her way back from the hospital. But it was after 11:00 and I was getting a little hungry. I decided to run accross the street to the deli for a snack. NextDoorNeighbor heard the clicking of my door and popped out of his apartment.
"Hyde! Wait! I just heard your door opening. I wanted to ask you something."
He asked if I would tape his show again. I told him "no problem." We chatted for a few minutes and he decided to walk me to the deli.
"Let me just stick my shoes on," he said. (He must have wanted the inside scoop on whether VJ told me anything about him.)
On our way back from the deli, I stopped in front of Cheers to say hi to PumpedUp and FightingMensch again. They laughed and said they were taking bets on whether and when I was coming back. I told them that I was still on my way home, but I might stop by even later. BarMan was on his way into the bar (to party, not work) and stopped and gave me a big hug. I like hanging out with him and really did want to come back later, but I was just so tired and still fighting off illness. Jekyll and Hyde had a little "meeting of the minds." Thankfully, Jekyll won this time.
NextDoorNeighbor and I headed back upstairs. He invited me in, and we talked over our late-night snacks. Finally, home and to bed!
I got in bed around 1:00 am. At about 1:30 am the phone rang.
Was it Narc?
Nope...the Stallion, again!
He was calling me from the airport, wanting to make plans for Friday night. I told him that I didn't think I could because I have plans with Anxious and an invite to two parties (not to mention that rendezvous with the band I met the night before). I told him that one of the parties was out in Brooklyn and he told me to "be careful." I thought it was really cute and kind of sweet. I don't know. I think half my interest is that it's flattering how much this guy is into me. Well, I guess he doesn't really know me, but it's a physical interest. I guess we don't really connect on any other level. It kind of sucks. Why can't I find a guy who can offer the whole package--chemistry, kindness and common interests? Why not? Is it really too much to ask?
I finally fell asleep around 2:00 only to be awakened by the phone a few hours later. My land line rang at about 5:00 am. I picked it up, still thick with sleep.
Who was it? Yep... you guessed it! This time it was Narc!
"Oh, did I wake you?" he asked.
"Well, yeah... It's five o'clock in the morning and I have to teach tomorrow," I said.
"Oh, that's right. You Friday-teach. Well, go back to sleep then. Go back to sleep, I just wanted to talk for a bit." (He sounded a little drunk--typical, but not bad).
"Okay, well, good night," I said.
I fell back asleep pretty quickly (I'm good like that.)
A half an hour later, the phone rang again. I picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Oh... Hey, it's Narc again. But, um... I don't know... If you have to teach, go back to sleep."
"I told you I have to teach."
"So go back to sleep."
"But why did you call again?"
(I know I should have just told him to fuck off and stop calling me so late, given the way he's treated me, but part of me is just so drawn to him. I just don't understand myself on this one!)
"Well, I didn't think you would pick up. I just wanted to leave you a message."
(Yeah, right. If that was the case, he could have texted me!)
"So... What's the message?"
"Well, just that I wanted to talk to you. I mean... I guess, I'm feeling weird. I mean, I'm feeling a little confessional, you know? And I don't really know who else to talk to about this. But I don't know... I don't want to bother you now..."
"What are you confessional about?" I asked.
(As much of an asshole as he is, he did peak my interest a bit).
"Well, I've been doing all this work to process out all of these negative things... You know what I mean?"
"Like what?" I asked. "Like you mean when you said you've been working out?"
(By "negative things," I thought he was talking alcohol or too much drama or something.)
"No, well, I have been working out, but it's not that..."
"Go on..."
"Do you remember when I went to see that guy a few months ago? The one who works with the 'pathwork' people?"
"Who? Your life-coach?"
"No. That's someone else. This is the guy who did the thing where I had to shout outloud and stuff...'No! No! No!'"
"Oh yeah, I remember..."
(Incidentally, if you guys are as confused as I am, you can go check it out at pathwork.org, but I can never keep track of Narc's new age attempts at finding meaning in his life and a way to let himself feel love/loved.)
"Well, I went to see my primary pathwork advisor and she told me it was time to follow up and make another appointment with that guy and I really don't want to. I mean... I've been avoiding it."
(Okay, if you're still confused, Narc has an EXTREME trauma in his past that I don't want to tell you all about; I was shocked that he was able to share it with me (back in November) and I get the sense he doesn't talk to people about it or deal with it in general).
"I totally understand. I know that can be really scary," I said. "But you have to ask yourself, realistically--what are you scared of? I mean, nothing can happen to you anymore. And whatever comes up--they're only feelings."
He didn't respond.
"Narc, what do you think is going to happen? I remember that last time you went you told me you felt better after. Remember?"
"I don't know. This is stupid," he said. "I just want you to come over here so I can come in your mouth."
(Sorry to be so crass, but that's just what he said, and I find it quite revealing. I'm sure by now you can all recognize the classic Narc progression: 1.) he feels close to me and reaches out. 2.) he realizes that he's too close and goes into panic mode. 3.) he does something mean to hurt me and make me cry or he does something to degrade and humiliate me so that I no longer threaten his ego or his sense of stability. 4.) Either I suck it up and hang in for more or I get hysterical, we fight, he blames me for being hysterical and we split for a while. What a fucking Prince Charming!)
Well, I didn't know what to make of all if it at 5:30 am. I akwardly dealt with his "come in your mouth" comment by saying that I couldn't come down there the next night because I had plans with Anxious. (Ah, sneaky Hyde! You all know that I of course brought up Anxious for a reason... I was dying to see what he would say on the "Masturbation" issue)
"While I've got you on the phone," I said, "I wanted to ask you... I heard something really strange from Anxious."
"What's that?"
"Well, that you masturbated in front of her on Valentine's Day."
"What? What are you talking about?" he asked. (He was clearly flustered). "I mean, when did she tell you this? What kind of thing did she say I was involved in?"
"Oh, she told me about it a while ago," I said, casually. "I just didn't have the chance to talk to you about it before we split."
I recounted to him what Anxious had told me.
"Well, that didn't happen," he said. "I mean, we fucked around...well, I don't mean we fucked around, but we just hung out, you know? But nothing passed between us. Nothing happened. That's just absurd. Why would she say a thing like that?"
"I don' t know. I find it unsual too," I said. (Interesting that he's bothering to deny it...Does he think he's THAT good that I believe him?)
"Maybe she just really wants me." he suggested. "I don't know. I mean, it seems like she was trying to steal me away or something. Did you guys ever date the same guy in the past or something?"
"No! Besides, I don't think that's what it's about," I said. "I don't think she particularly wanted you. I mean, I wasn't there. I don' t know what happened. But if she lied about it, the only reason she would have made it up would have been to get to me... to be competitive with me. Not to get to you."
(You all know, I believe that she was telling the truth though).
"Well, leave me out of it," he said. "I don't want to be involved in your girl-fight."
"It's not a fight. We're fine. Besides, you and I aren't together now, so whatever... I just wanted to ask because it's such a curious story. Besides, I thought you would find it funny."
He seemed to want to get off the phone at that point.
"I should let you get back to sleep," he said. "You have an early morning tomorrow. Gotta stay fresh for molding young minds!" (Funny, he didn't care about that an hour ago when he started ringing me!)
"Well, I'm giving them a midterm," I said. "So I don't have to be so sharp. I just get to sit there and administer. And besides, I can't go back to sleep now. My alarm's set to go off in less than an hour. I have to get to my office early to photocopy the exams."
"But I want you to go back to sleep," he said. "I want you to get your sleep."
"Well, I just told you, I'm not going to go back to sleep."
"Well, then, I guess I need to go to sleep," he said.
"That's fine. Good night, then."
And that was it.
The whole thing struck me as odd though. I mean, not odd that he called me drunk at 5:30 am, but odd that he called me when he knew I wasn't available to come fuck him; and odd that he called to talk to me about his insecurities and childhood trauma after everything we've been through. What?!?! I can't tell whether he called me because this has been on his mind and he really needed to talk and couldn't go to anyone else with this, or if he called me to "soften me up" by making himself sympathetic and to push my "nurturer" buttons (prepping me for a "come-fuck me" call this weekend).
In either case, it was still ALL ABOUT HIM. The shithead didn't even ASK about how my brother is doing!
Nevertheless, all day today I've felt weird. I'm not sure what to make of it. I mean, he hasn't changed a shred and there's nothing about that phone call to convince me to take him back on any level, but there it was--that amazing chemistry sparked yet again. I feel nervous and physically excited just by the fact that he called (and even the way he "insulted" me). I hate being oriented this way sometimes.
I don't know... Sometimes I think I'm an awful person. For example:
This morning I sent an email to Anxious. It seemed okay at the time, but in retrospect, it's probably a little passive-agressive of me, being that she has no sex on her horizon.
I wrote:
Got a call from the Stallion last night. Guess what? He's moving back to NY (for good) TODAY!!! He called me from the airport. What the fuck!?!?!?
Also, 5:30 am call from Narc. We talked for 1/2 an hour or so. pleh! ughhhh! huh?
(As you can see, mixed emotions).
Can't wait to see you later!
h
Her Response:
Hi!
Well, it looks like your plan to rest, relax, and recuperate from illness has been shot to hell by all the men in your life! What with staying out all night with the band on Wed., and the Stallion and Narc calling last night, I can't imagine you've had much sleep lately...
The Stallion has a perfect right to move back to NY, but theis does complicate things!
As for Narc, he's just horny, and really lazy...too lazy to go out and find someone else. Lots of men are lazy that way.
(Then she goes on about our plans for tonight a bit).
-Anxious
I don't know if I'm still trying to find reasons to be mad at her, but I thought that what she said about Narc is really obnoxious. I don't care how much she dislikes the guy, but how does she know why he called me? It's insulting for her to assume that he doesn't care for me on any level and that the only interest he has in me is driven by laziness to find someone "better." I mean, whether or not she's right, it's not her business to say so and in fact, I find that to be just plain rude.
To me, that comment was pointed and intended to put me down. That said, it's not worth picking a fight over. I'll just file it away as a piece of observational data in my mental "Anxious" file.
I guess that's it for now. I'm in my office on break between my two classes. I have to run, and will most likely not have a chance to post until Sunday night at the earliest.
Hope all of you in blogland are well!
Have a fabulous weekend!
-Hyde
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Sickness and Memory on the M104
False Truths That I Have Come to Hold Very Dear:
“The highest passion is spent on what is absolutely suspect.”
-Thomas Mann
"We begin to live when we have conceived life as a tragedy."
–William Butler Yeats
I've been sick all day today. Sick yesterday too. Sick since Sunday night. Maybe I should count it from Sunday afternoon when I was still sick with alcohol; or from Saturday night when I was sick enough to text Narc. Or from Thursday night when I was sick enough to get wasted the night before teaching and text Narc. The bottom line is that I'm sick and that I'm stuck going through my week like this.
Nevertheless, I spent over four hours today in the Performing Arts library trying to sketch out a paper topic. My presentation is tomorrow but I hardly feel any further along. I left the library at dusk. Three overstuffed bags weighed heavy on my shoulders as I exited onto Lincoln Plaza. The red neon light from the Vivian Beaumont seemed strange to me. Everything else was gray. Looking down, even my hands were gray; all gray except the tips of my fingers, which were pink from the cold (and the stale nailpolish that I desperately wanted to remove).
I walked across the plaza passing flattened silenced ponds and stone benches. On my head, Montserrat Caballe sang Donde lieta. I felt a slow drip in the back of my throat and a swelling behind my ears.
I crossed in front of the opera house. The last time I had been there was desperately waiting for Narc. I choked with sadness for all of it again.
Again.
Again aestheticizing myself and everything around me.
(I thought of Walter Pater and the "quickened life." Was I burning? Was I burning like a "hard gem-like flame?" Hardly...(although I was trying!))
("senza rancor?" yeah, right...)
I listened to the music, drowned in violins and soprano and the grayness of the evening (and the fantasy of drowning). But cynical reason was triumphant, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes at my own ridiculousness. Thank God for rational consciousness. I mean, c'mon... Boheme is hardly that profound. No more being a mermaid! And no more thinking of Narc, either!
I shifted my gaze to the left of the fountain and away from my waiting for Narc.
(Waiting...waiting...warten...Erwartung...(anticipation, right?))
I found another memory--A column against which I had been kissed in the snowfall of the winter of '98. Warm kisses, before a security guard asked us to move along. That was a magical night. (Not a magical man though).
Not worth dwelling on for more than a flash, so I walked past the fountain. Jets of water hung like glass suspended in air.
Forward.
Over the steps onto the street.
I moved towards the island on the edge of Broadway to wait for the bus. Where was I? "10-20-50" as B and I like to call it. I thought of that October afternoon (with the sweet dead taste of autumn) when we sat on that bench and together promised that no matter what happened, nor where our lives led, that we would meet each other in that very place, on that very day, on October 20th of 2050. We even promised that should one of us pass away, that we would be sure to leave explicit instructions for a close friend or relative to show up in our sted. God, that was only five years ago! It seems like a lifetime has passed. What a slow crawl fifty years can be!
Enough of that. That happiness is on the wind. I needed the bus. Turning my face to squint up Broadway brought back similarly cold mornings on the corner of 71st street, scanning Broadway to the north, while shifting my weight, uncomfortably heeled on the way to work at that music company. Glad that's over. No bus though.
Taxis were everywhere. Taxis. Taxis wove in and out and lurched towards me menacingly, like electric eels. Their yellow eyes slithered down inky streets as the grayness of dusk turned to blue.
The new condos across the street stood colorless. Cold and bleached and blank. A Bed, Bath & Beyond stands where there used to be Orloffs. How many mornings did my mom and I go for muffins before our Saturday operas? Not very many... We were usually running late. More often, we landed at Orloffs in the evenings. There we enjoyed overpriced salads, programs in hand, before picking up the car from an overpriced garage.
By then, "Mimi" had finished and the ensuing Quartet had begun. That was definitely Domingo...and Sherrill Milnes. (Ah! Both favorites!) But I couldn't guess the "Musetta." I remembered when that quartet was on our Opera Ensemble program. I think it was spring of my junior year. I wasn't a part of that number (still singing Mezzo then), but I'll never forget the "Musetta." She was overwhelming. I've heard that she's working as a cantor now and sings at a small Brooklyn Opera company.
Is that the 104? No...not yet. It's just the M7. Or is it the M10?
Oh yes! Remember the time I rode the M10 home from work? I thought it went further north, but it turns out that its final stop is just in front of Lincoln Plaza. That evening, for some reason, I was the only one on the bus. I moved to the front and made small talk with the bus driver for most of the ride. It turns out that we were both smokers and so we decided to light up on the bus. I felt like such an outlaw. It was delicious!
Glancing across the street and just to the south, I eyed Fiorello and Josephina. One sticky summer afternoon, B and I had gone to the movies at 63rd street but I felt really sick when we were leaving. I was so woozy that I thought I might faint. (When was that? The summer of 2001, maybe.) Anyway, he went into Fiorello and asked them for a glass of water and a washcloth for me. It was so sweet how he took care of me that day.
Josephina stands where there used to be a Hoolihans. VJ and I had dinner there on our very first social outing as roomates in September of 1997. We dressed up strange in costumes and did ourselves up in dramatic makeup (a la Hyde). (That would turn out to be a favorite pastime!) After dinner we returned to campus and sat in the open air at the edge of the Alma Mater. I swigged from a bottle of sparkling cider until a security guard asked what was in the bottle. I laughed. I wasn't a drinker back then, and wouldn't have dared to break the rules so flagrantly. I don't laugh about those things anymore though.
Still the 104 hadn't arrived. The opera house glowed against the cold sky. Its chandeliers became a thousand fireflies transformed into ringing bells. But as beautiful as it was tonight, its most essential form in my memory is from the first time I saw it. I was on a school trip to see The Tales of Hoffman. At only 10 or 11, I was enchanted by Olympia's aria. Life was different then. In many ways, it was the hour of my breaking.
I had never noticed the annoying black lines etched across its windows though. Yet, there they were--black bars tracing Mondrian-like squares abstracting and dividing a space that shouldn't have been divided, obscuring the blurred glowing warmth of the Chagall hangings just behind the glass.
The quartet ended. "Schaunard" was now saying goodbye to his old coat. I know (for you connoisseurs) it seems oddly out of chronolgy (Donde Lieta is from Act III and Vecchia zimarra, senti is from Act IV). However, the CD is a hyper-romantic compilation called "Addio: Opera's Greatest Farewells."
I thought about that old coat and remembered B's favorite corduroy. We bought that coat together at Canal Jeans (which has since been replaced by downtown Bloomingdales). That was long before we ever got together as a couple. Weird... After we bought the jacket, we trekked the long path down Broadway to Trinity Church to see a friend performing in the choir there. B wore that jacket far beyond its rightful death.
At last! The bus arrived. Rush hour buses seem to go nowhere. It slowly chugged through the crowds at Columbus Circle, dragged me past BigSis' building, and reluctantly arrived in Times Square. By now, Waltraud Meier was singing the Liebestod. I guess that counts as a "goodbye," but it strikes me as a strange choice to include on the CD. It doesn't seem entirely human, in the way that "goodbye" should be. I don't know... maybe I had just been reading too much Wagner all afternoon to bear his ideological weight.
The ultimate irony came when the bus crawled to a halt in the Times Square traffic. "Isolde" reached her ecstatic climax. Outside the window, I saw aliens. Lights flashed but from far away. (I remembered my recurrent nightmare of the bloody emerald stained glass windows). The monitors and the billboards, I was sure, were screaming, but their voices grew muted through the smudged window glass. The botomless emptiness of Times Square. I don't feel energy there anymore like I used to. (ertrinken..... versinken....)
unbewusst--
hochste
LUST
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Sunday Morning Coming Down
Ah, the weekend! More drinks, more self-hatred, more drunk Narc messages. Eternal Recurrence! Life gets pretty fucking boring, doesn't it? At least I did actually do some work for once.
Yesterday I spent the entire day in the library. I read five or six articles and worked on developing my paper topic. I'm still not totally there yet in terms of working out a thesis though. Hammer and I met up in the Wertheim room at the New York Public. I brought my (semi) new laptop. We took a study break and ate a strange lunch at a Japanese cafe that was trying to be a French pastry shop. (Occidentalism, Hammer!) It was fun.
Leaving the library, I came home and called VJ. She wanted to hang out and get dinner. While she was on her way over Hammer called me w/ a relationship crisis. VJ arrived, but I was talking to Hammer so she went online on my computer. I hung up with Hammer and the doorbell rang. It was NextDoorNeighbor. He came to pick up his tape. (I had recorded his favorite Telenovela for him--Gitanas.) He heard something bustling about my apartment.
"Is that the cat? Or do you have company?" he asked.
"That's VJ," I said. "You've met her before, right? Remember she was at that party my friend had in September? All the way downtown? She was talking to your ex about psychology and stuff, remember?"
"Of course!" he said. He walked down the hall into the living room to say hello.
Before I knew it, NextDoorNeighbor and VJ were deep in conversation. They were bonding and giving each other advice about their internet dating profiles. I chimed in here and there, smoking a few cigarettes, chugging some SoCo out of the bottle and talking to Hammer on the phone, trying to help her through her issue. I started to get hungry. It was after 8:00 and VJ and I still hadn't eaten dinner yet.
"Do you guys want to go get something to eat?" I asked, inviting NextDoorNeighbor along.
We went to a diner down the block. NextDoorNeighbor was clearly trying to impress VJ. I sensed a "romance" blossoming--even if it was a one-sided one. Dinner was unremarkable until I freaked out a little bit. When I went into my wallet for money, I came out with a bar receipt from Manchester on Thursday night. However, if you recall, careful reader, I had no fucking clue that I had been there on Thursday! It scared me a little. Not enough though. Saturday night would be more of the same.
After dinner we came back to my place and VJ and I freshened up to go out for the evening. NextDoorNeighbor came back over with some pot. VJ doesn't smoke, but he and I enjoyed it. He was totally plugged in to an episode of Three's a Company and became so engrossed that he didn't want to leave the apartment. I felt myself getting sleepy and losing my drive, so I eventually dragged him away from the television. The three of us headed to Cheers. Initially, I had promised VJ to go to her meat-market bar after just a brief visit to Cheers, but the crowd won her over and we stayed all night. Unfortunately, NextDoorNeighbor was majorly stoned. He started getting all paranoid and saying stupid things. It was very odd. I don't understand why the weed didn't effect me the in same way. I guess that's just my Hyde constitution!
There were a million people there that I knew. I introduced VJ and NextDoorNeighbor around the best I could. It was so much fun! My neighbor (on the other side of the hall) showed up as well. I always ride the elevator with him and his girlfriend. Once they suggested that we all hang out, and I told them to stop by Cheers anytime because I'm always there. They finally took me up on it and were psyched to see I was there with NextDoorNeighbor. It was a little 20th floor reunion!
VJ and I were dancing and I was getting wasted. PakistaniMan was there, and I didn't really want to dance in front of him (or talk to him much for that matter) and it was a little akward. I feel bad because he's a really nice guy (even asked me about my brother), but I'm not into him and don't want to lead him on at all. He bought me and VJ a round of drinks though. (Secretly told the bartender to put the next round on him. Otherwise, I wouldn't have accepted.) Oh, another interesting character--MarriedGuy showed up! It's so strange! I haven't seen that guy in MONTHS, but was just talking about him a few weeks ago with the Fourth Floor Girls. I was drunk and greeted him with a hug, but I think he felt supremely akward. Oh well. I guess that's his problem. NextDoorNeighbor left kind of early because he was too stoned. VJ followed suit an hour or two later. I stayed to drink.
Drinking has some pretty negative effects on me. I felt like with each drink I was downing a glass of love for Narc. The more I drank, the more he popped forward in my mind and the less I was able to reason through why I'm supposed to hate him. (Although sober and in daylight, I'm slowly hating him more and more...) At around 2:00 am I caved (again!) and texted him:
What are you up to? Wanna meet up?
(Ughh! I know...I'm such a loser!) Well, the night progressed without a response from Narc until I got so drunk that one of the Colombians cut me off at around 3:30. Not a problem! I smiled and decided to head to Manchester Pub instead.
On the way, I bumped into Druggie. He wanted me to come up and "chill" at his place. I told him no, and that I was headed to Manchester but welcomed him to come along. He agreed, but didn't seem that so into my choice of bars. I wonder if he ever had an "incident" there. Did I ever mention that he's been banned from Cheers? On the way to Manchester he started to cross the street, trying to lead me into a pub on the other side. I told him that he could go wherever he wanted to, but that I was going to Manchester. (I was not keen on the idea of being that drunk in a bar where I didn't know the people already).
So Druggie and I parted ways and I wandered into Manchester, parking myself on a barstool. I was next to one of the Australians who asked me if I had "made it home okay" the other night. I was grateful that I had found that receipt because otherwise I would have REALLY had no idea what he was talking about. Druggie showed up shortly after. I guess he got bored by himself at the bar across the street. He kept trying to convince me to walk home with him, but I kept ordering another drink (and another and another) and he was getting impatient. Eventually he left me there. (Good!) After last-call I went outside and bumped into the other Australian. (The one I had initiated into the world of "medicine" at the end of January).
Anyway, I stumbled home by 4:30 am or so. My phone shows that I have an outgoing call to Narc at 4:00 (probably left him a message; my memory of the end of the night is in and out). When I woke up this morning, I had four drunk messages from him. (Two on my cell and two on my landline). Drunk Narc is usually not worth quoting (although I know I do it all the time). The only funny thing he said this time (while completely and incoherently slurring his words) was that he "only drank water all night," that he's been "working out a lot lately" and that some girl who's his friend has been acting as his "personal trainer." I wish I could communicate in writing the hilarity of his delivery on that one.
Today I felt like shit all day. My throat is hurting, my head is throbbing, and once again, I am pretty self-hating. I need to stop fucking up like this and start drinking less. I was drunk all morning (didn't even remember a 10:00 am phone conversation with B!) and didn't process the alcohol out until about 3:00. By that time, I had wasted most of the day. I took my laptop and went to Starbucks with VJ to work on a paper. NextDoorNeighbor had called her and asked her out. I think their "date" is for Tuesday. (I don't know if it's a formal "date" though). After that, I met B downtown and we had Thai food for dinner. I still feel awful though. I'm physically wrecked and have to stay up doing work tonight. I am renewing my resolve to quit drinking. I'm going to try to make it through the whole week without a drink, come hell or highwater!
I just hope I don't get another major throat infection. I will be miserably depressed if it interferes with my voice lessons yet again! (Last year I had tonsilitis around 8 times, I'm sure in part due to my "medicine" and the drip, but I ended up having to have my tonsils out in October and it fucked with my singing all year long).
Gotta run because there's much to do and my body is demanding sleep tonight. Feeling overwhelmed and a little despair...
-hyde
PS: Posted the pic of my house so I can remember a time when it looked pretty, while I fervently wish for it to be magically as clean once again!
Yesterday I spent the entire day in the library. I read five or six articles and worked on developing my paper topic. I'm still not totally there yet in terms of working out a thesis though. Hammer and I met up in the Wertheim room at the New York Public. I brought my (semi) new laptop. We took a study break and ate a strange lunch at a Japanese cafe that was trying to be a French pastry shop. (Occidentalism, Hammer!) It was fun.
Leaving the library, I came home and called VJ. She wanted to hang out and get dinner. While she was on her way over Hammer called me w/ a relationship crisis. VJ arrived, but I was talking to Hammer so she went online on my computer. I hung up with Hammer and the doorbell rang. It was NextDoorNeighbor. He came to pick up his tape. (I had recorded his favorite Telenovela for him--Gitanas.) He heard something bustling about my apartment.
"Is that the cat? Or do you have company?" he asked.
"That's VJ," I said. "You've met her before, right? Remember she was at that party my friend had in September? All the way downtown? She was talking to your ex about psychology and stuff, remember?"
"Of course!" he said. He walked down the hall into the living room to say hello.
Before I knew it, NextDoorNeighbor and VJ were deep in conversation. They were bonding and giving each other advice about their internet dating profiles. I chimed in here and there, smoking a few cigarettes, chugging some SoCo out of the bottle and talking to Hammer on the phone, trying to help her through her issue. I started to get hungry. It was after 8:00 and VJ and I still hadn't eaten dinner yet.
"Do you guys want to go get something to eat?" I asked, inviting NextDoorNeighbor along.
We went to a diner down the block. NextDoorNeighbor was clearly trying to impress VJ. I sensed a "romance" blossoming--even if it was a one-sided one. Dinner was unremarkable until I freaked out a little bit. When I went into my wallet for money, I came out with a bar receipt from Manchester on Thursday night. However, if you recall, careful reader, I had no fucking clue that I had been there on Thursday! It scared me a little. Not enough though. Saturday night would be more of the same.
After dinner we came back to my place and VJ and I freshened up to go out for the evening. NextDoorNeighbor came back over with some pot. VJ doesn't smoke, but he and I enjoyed it. He was totally plugged in to an episode of Three's a Company and became so engrossed that he didn't want to leave the apartment. I felt myself getting sleepy and losing my drive, so I eventually dragged him away from the television. The three of us headed to Cheers. Initially, I had promised VJ to go to her meat-market bar after just a brief visit to Cheers, but the crowd won her over and we stayed all night. Unfortunately, NextDoorNeighbor was majorly stoned. He started getting all paranoid and saying stupid things. It was very odd. I don't understand why the weed didn't effect me the in same way. I guess that's just my Hyde constitution!
There were a million people there that I knew. I introduced VJ and NextDoorNeighbor around the best I could. It was so much fun! My neighbor (on the other side of the hall) showed up as well. I always ride the elevator with him and his girlfriend. Once they suggested that we all hang out, and I told them to stop by Cheers anytime because I'm always there. They finally took me up on it and were psyched to see I was there with NextDoorNeighbor. It was a little 20th floor reunion!
VJ and I were dancing and I was getting wasted. PakistaniMan was there, and I didn't really want to dance in front of him (or talk to him much for that matter) and it was a little akward. I feel bad because he's a really nice guy (even asked me about my brother), but I'm not into him and don't want to lead him on at all. He bought me and VJ a round of drinks though. (Secretly told the bartender to put the next round on him. Otherwise, I wouldn't have accepted.) Oh, another interesting character--MarriedGuy showed up! It's so strange! I haven't seen that guy in MONTHS, but was just talking about him a few weeks ago with the Fourth Floor Girls. I was drunk and greeted him with a hug, but I think he felt supremely akward. Oh well. I guess that's his problem. NextDoorNeighbor left kind of early because he was too stoned. VJ followed suit an hour or two later. I stayed to drink.
Drinking has some pretty negative effects on me. I felt like with each drink I was downing a glass of love for Narc. The more I drank, the more he popped forward in my mind and the less I was able to reason through why I'm supposed to hate him. (Although sober and in daylight, I'm slowly hating him more and more...) At around 2:00 am I caved (again!) and texted him:
What are you up to? Wanna meet up?
(Ughh! I know...I'm such a loser!) Well, the night progressed without a response from Narc until I got so drunk that one of the Colombians cut me off at around 3:30. Not a problem! I smiled and decided to head to Manchester Pub instead.
On the way, I bumped into Druggie. He wanted me to come up and "chill" at his place. I told him no, and that I was headed to Manchester but welcomed him to come along. He agreed, but didn't seem that so into my choice of bars. I wonder if he ever had an "incident" there. Did I ever mention that he's been banned from Cheers? On the way to Manchester he started to cross the street, trying to lead me into a pub on the other side. I told him that he could go wherever he wanted to, but that I was going to Manchester. (I was not keen on the idea of being that drunk in a bar where I didn't know the people already).
So Druggie and I parted ways and I wandered into Manchester, parking myself on a barstool. I was next to one of the Australians who asked me if I had "made it home okay" the other night. I was grateful that I had found that receipt because otherwise I would have REALLY had no idea what he was talking about. Druggie showed up shortly after. I guess he got bored by himself at the bar across the street. He kept trying to convince me to walk home with him, but I kept ordering another drink (and another and another) and he was getting impatient. Eventually he left me there. (Good!) After last-call I went outside and bumped into the other Australian. (The one I had initiated into the world of "medicine" at the end of January).
Anyway, I stumbled home by 4:30 am or so. My phone shows that I have an outgoing call to Narc at 4:00 (probably left him a message; my memory of the end of the night is in and out). When I woke up this morning, I had four drunk messages from him. (Two on my cell and two on my landline). Drunk Narc is usually not worth quoting (although I know I do it all the time). The only funny thing he said this time (while completely and incoherently slurring his words) was that he "only drank water all night," that he's been "working out a lot lately" and that some girl who's his friend has been acting as his "personal trainer." I wish I could communicate in writing the hilarity of his delivery on that one.
Today I felt like shit all day. My throat is hurting, my head is throbbing, and once again, I am pretty self-hating. I need to stop fucking up like this and start drinking less. I was drunk all morning (didn't even remember a 10:00 am phone conversation with B!) and didn't process the alcohol out until about 3:00. By that time, I had wasted most of the day. I took my laptop and went to Starbucks with VJ to work on a paper. NextDoorNeighbor had called her and asked her out. I think their "date" is for Tuesday. (I don't know if it's a formal "date" though). After that, I met B downtown and we had Thai food for dinner. I still feel awful though. I'm physically wrecked and have to stay up doing work tonight. I am renewing my resolve to quit drinking. I'm going to try to make it through the whole week without a drink, come hell or highwater!
I just hope I don't get another major throat infection. I will be miserably depressed if it interferes with my voice lessons yet again! (Last year I had tonsilitis around 8 times, I'm sure in part due to my "medicine" and the drip, but I ended up having to have my tonsils out in October and it fucked with my singing all year long).
Gotta run because there's much to do and my body is demanding sleep tonight. Feeling overwhelmed and a little despair...
-hyde
PS: Posted the pic of my house so I can remember a time when it looked pretty, while I fervently wish for it to be magically as clean once again!
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Out of Steam
I'm out of steam. Flash tells me that he "doesn't know where I find the time to live the life I do." Honestly, I don't know either. I never ever stop going. There are just never any empty spaces. And honestly, I feel it starting to catch up with me.
Last night, my body literally collapsed into bed. I just woke up now and it's almost 10:00 am. I'm aggravated that I wasted so much time sleeping, but I guess I needed it. This morning my neck and shoulders are stiff, my eyes are sore and I have a muddled headache. This sucks. I rarely feel so exhausted as I do this morning. Rather, I find that when I sleep less, I can easily mask the sleep deprivation (and all real physical needs) with a little caffeine and adrenaline. Now I find that one night of a real good eight hours is just enough of a reminder that I am driving myself into the ground.
Anyway, yesterday got much better once my alcohol-soaked brain processed the stuff out, about mid-way through my teaching day. We were doing a review for their midterm exam (which is coming up next week) so the classes ran a little shorter than usual and I was grateful for it. After teaching, I came back to my place. I felt like I needed to do something that I've been sorely neglecting, but what? Go through the mail and look for bills that needed to be paid? Pick up the tons of dirty laundry draped across my bedroom furniture? Unload the sink stacked with week-old dirty dishes? Get ahead (or catch up) with reading for my classes? Try to make a bibliography for my much unattended research paper? Ughhh...
Instead I lay depressedly on my couch for an hour or so. Anything else seemed too overwhelming.
Before long, my phone rang. It was Hammer. She wanted to know if I wanted to make plans for a "Friday night culture night." I said "okay," but neither of us wanted to be decisive in terms of making a plan. She was stressed about an ongoing discord with her beau and I was wiped out from teaching and the physical strain I had put my body through the night before. (Not to mention the slight re-opening of the Narc wound). She said she'd give me a ring when she got back home from work. She was on her way home just then.
I jumped in the shower, and was just coming out when NextDoorNeighbor rang my bell. I answered in my towel and it was a little akward. He was in a rush, but apparently I had agreed to tape some program for him. I guess I made the promise while we had been out drinking the night before, and so he was at my door, tape in hand. He mentioned to me that he'd be at Fubar later (a local dive), and told me to stop by. I told him "maybe."
Hammer called back and we decided to try to catch a Broadway show by buying half-price tickets at the TKTS booth in Time Square. I got dressed as quickly as I could and met her at about 7:20. We were cutting it close. Thankfully, there was really no line and we had our pick of quite a few shows. We decided to see Tennassee Williams' The Glass Menagerie. It was really so good! It was starring Jessica Lange (who was brilliant!) and Christian Slater (who Hammer has a crush on, lucky her!). Hammer and I agreed though, that the girl who played Laura interpreted the role very strangely, and neither of us liked her much.
After the show, we went for sushi and bubble tea, but I was terribly disappointed because they were out of tapioca. Probably for the best, because as Hammer pointed out, I most likely would have sugar-crashed from it anyway. After we ate (and by this time it was around 11:45), I called VJ. Earlier in the day, VJ had asked if I wanted to hang out that evening, but I told her I had plans with Hammer. I told her that I could meet up after midnight or so though. VJ wanted to go to a local bar in my neighborhood, but one that I usually steer clear of because it is a total meat-market. I agreed to go anyway though, because VJ usually never wants to do the bar scene. Due to a miscommunication, when I called her she was already in bed. She said that she thought I would have called earlier.
Hammer and I parted ways and I headed back to my neighborhood. On the way, I called my mom for an update on my brother. Nothing new... (the waiting game is maddening!) What to do for my night though? Head to Fubar to meet NextDoorNeighbor? Check out who I knew at Cheers' Friday night karaoke? Either way, I'd have to stop home first and freshen up.
Back at my place I collapsed onto my bed to think it through. My body sank into the comforter pulling me towards a delicious sleep. I didn't want it though. I honestly and truly wanted to go out. But the longer I lay there, the heavier my eyelids grew, my head sinking deeper and deeper into the pillow. I lay there like that for about half an hour doing nothing--not even thinking. All brain functions were shutting down. It was unquestionable--"Hyde" had lost that night's battle. It was undeniable--Dr. Jekyll was insisting that I get myself some rest. And so I did.
I successfully slept from about 1:00 am to 9:45 this morning. And now I feel thick and groggy and aching. I have to spend the whole day in the library today to catch up on a lot of things. Hopefully after some coffee and cold air, I'll wake up a little. The day of study will do me some good too. Today won't be about action, but rather about ideas.
As for tonight's plans...we'll see. First I have to find out where the world takes me this afternoon.
Last night, my body literally collapsed into bed. I just woke up now and it's almost 10:00 am. I'm aggravated that I wasted so much time sleeping, but I guess I needed it. This morning my neck and shoulders are stiff, my eyes are sore and I have a muddled headache. This sucks. I rarely feel so exhausted as I do this morning. Rather, I find that when I sleep less, I can easily mask the sleep deprivation (and all real physical needs) with a little caffeine and adrenaline. Now I find that one night of a real good eight hours is just enough of a reminder that I am driving myself into the ground.
Anyway, yesterday got much better once my alcohol-soaked brain processed the stuff out, about mid-way through my teaching day. We were doing a review for their midterm exam (which is coming up next week) so the classes ran a little shorter than usual and I was grateful for it. After teaching, I came back to my place. I felt like I needed to do something that I've been sorely neglecting, but what? Go through the mail and look for bills that needed to be paid? Pick up the tons of dirty laundry draped across my bedroom furniture? Unload the sink stacked with week-old dirty dishes? Get ahead (or catch up) with reading for my classes? Try to make a bibliography for my much unattended research paper? Ughhh...
Instead I lay depressedly on my couch for an hour or so. Anything else seemed too overwhelming.
Before long, my phone rang. It was Hammer. She wanted to know if I wanted to make plans for a "Friday night culture night." I said "okay," but neither of us wanted to be decisive in terms of making a plan. She was stressed about an ongoing discord with her beau and I was wiped out from teaching and the physical strain I had put my body through the night before. (Not to mention the slight re-opening of the Narc wound). She said she'd give me a ring when she got back home from work. She was on her way home just then.
I jumped in the shower, and was just coming out when NextDoorNeighbor rang my bell. I answered in my towel and it was a little akward. He was in a rush, but apparently I had agreed to tape some program for him. I guess I made the promise while we had been out drinking the night before, and so he was at my door, tape in hand. He mentioned to me that he'd be at Fubar later (a local dive), and told me to stop by. I told him "maybe."
Hammer called back and we decided to try to catch a Broadway show by buying half-price tickets at the TKTS booth in Time Square. I got dressed as quickly as I could and met her at about 7:20. We were cutting it close. Thankfully, there was really no line and we had our pick of quite a few shows. We decided to see Tennassee Williams' The Glass Menagerie. It was really so good! It was starring Jessica Lange (who was brilliant!) and Christian Slater (who Hammer has a crush on, lucky her!). Hammer and I agreed though, that the girl who played Laura interpreted the role very strangely, and neither of us liked her much.
After the show, we went for sushi and bubble tea, but I was terribly disappointed because they were out of tapioca. Probably for the best, because as Hammer pointed out, I most likely would have sugar-crashed from it anyway. After we ate (and by this time it was around 11:45), I called VJ. Earlier in the day, VJ had asked if I wanted to hang out that evening, but I told her I had plans with Hammer. I told her that I could meet up after midnight or so though. VJ wanted to go to a local bar in my neighborhood, but one that I usually steer clear of because it is a total meat-market. I agreed to go anyway though, because VJ usually never wants to do the bar scene. Due to a miscommunication, when I called her she was already in bed. She said that she thought I would have called earlier.
Hammer and I parted ways and I headed back to my neighborhood. On the way, I called my mom for an update on my brother. Nothing new... (the waiting game is maddening!) What to do for my night though? Head to Fubar to meet NextDoorNeighbor? Check out who I knew at Cheers' Friday night karaoke? Either way, I'd have to stop home first and freshen up.
Back at my place I collapsed onto my bed to think it through. My body sank into the comforter pulling me towards a delicious sleep. I didn't want it though. I honestly and truly wanted to go out. But the longer I lay there, the heavier my eyelids grew, my head sinking deeper and deeper into the pillow. I lay there like that for about half an hour doing nothing--not even thinking. All brain functions were shutting down. It was unquestionable--"Hyde" had lost that night's battle. It was undeniable--Dr. Jekyll was insisting that I get myself some rest. And so I did.
I successfully slept from about 1:00 am to 9:45 this morning. And now I feel thick and groggy and aching. I have to spend the whole day in the library today to catch up on a lot of things. Hopefully after some coffee and cold air, I'll wake up a little. The day of study will do me some good too. Today won't be about action, but rather about ideas.
As for tonight's plans...we'll see. First I have to find out where the world takes me this afternoon.
Friday, March 11, 2005
Drunk Narc (and Drunk Hyde) Revisited
I woke up this morning to two drunk messages from Narc (beautifully transcribed for your reading pleasure below):
Message #1 (4:14 am)
Hey Hyde, It's Narc. I'm in the cab and this cab is "rock and rolling."
(Can you believe he actually said that? Anyway, it was followed by something totally incoherent. Then...)
I don't know. Um... Yeah.... Um... I don't know what to tell you. Um... Alright. We're done. I know we're done. But I want to fuck you tonight. Um... Yeah, okay, I got to get going. Give me a call back. Bye.
Message #2 (4:32 am)
(sounding a little more sober, but barely!)
Hey Hyde. This is SO STUPID, but um... I don't know. You know what? Honest to God, I just want someone to talk to. It's about 4:30. And um... I just thought... Well, I wanted to talk to you. But your number is famously out of... out of shit, out of shit.
(Huh?)
But anyway, it's 4:30 now. And uh... yeah. (sigh)
Alright, I'll see what I can do. I'll see if I can find some food. Alright. Bye.
Then my phone showed one missed call from him at 4:41 am. I think we have a record here--the first time that getting crazy drunk SAVED me from the Narc. I was passed out into a deep slumber by 2:30 am or so. Now, to be fair to Narc, I did instigate this last night. I texted him around 1:00 am that I wanted to fuck him. Shows how drunk I was... But I can't hate myself too much for that, because I just can't bear to hate myself any more than I already do right now. I woke up this morning STILL drunk (which is making my teaching day hell), and I wrote him back. Probably a mistake. I'm such a loser for this, but here's what I said--
Got ur messages. Sorry I missed u! I KNOW (as u put it) that we're "done," but does that mean we can't fuck now and then? U know what I want & where to find me... ;)
Okay, that message was wrong on SO many levels. First of all, if I'm texting him for sex, then I clearly don't "know" that we're done. And second of all, he has no fucking clue about "what I want." Clearly, I don't either. Ughhhh!!! But what's done is done. One good thing to say though, loving readers. I do have one reason not to beat myself over the head--today is the ONE MONTH anniversary of flushing my medicine down the toilet. Not bad, eh?
But back to my story... How did I end up in such a sorry state? Yesterday was a shitty day for me. I spent five hours in the morning alone in the hospital with my stepbrother. The piece of his skull that they had preserved in his abdomen got infected on Wednesday night and they had to do a surgery to remove it. Now it's lost forever. My stepfather stayed with him overnight and left for work when I arrived around 9:00. I had to stay until my stepsisters arrived at 1:30. There was a lot going on (a clogged food tube, people coming to evaluate him from the long-term care facility, etc.) and I had to keep track of everything since I was the only one there. On top of that, I was reading about art under the Nazis, which was not too cheering. Watching him was so hard. He seems to be in so much pain, but never moves the right side of his body (which makes sense with the massive left-side brain damage). It was awfully depressing.
I left there and headed back to the city around 2:00. I had an annoying cab driver from the hospital to the train station who asked me my name and when I told him, kept saying it over and over, telling me I had a "beautiful name." In the meanwhile I was trying to talk to my mom on my cell to fill her in on what the doctors were saying. Back at home I was too depressed to do much of anything, so I layed around for a while and vegetated. At around 6:00 I talked to Hammer for an hour or so on the phone and then took off for boxing. (God knows where I got the energy for it!)
Back from boxing, I should have gone home. (How many times have I told this story by now?) But instead, I grabbed a book and went to Cheers. I started off by reading and sipping wine. I was hanging out with BarMan for a while. The Colombians showed up (who only work weekends at Cheers), and I started talking to the one who always flirts with me. I drank two martinis and offered to buy him a drink. The old-timer from the other night was there too. He said he "can't speak" for the behavior of Super321. It was a good crowd, but I was still depressed so I drank some more. I was getting bored of it though. It all gets so fucking boring sometimes. I texted my friend Jake. Then I texted NextDoorNeighbor to see if he wanted to meet me for a drink. He showed up an hour or so later with a girl he's seeing. I was already wasted and bought them both drinks. (I think I was buying rounds for the whole fucking bar at that point!) We hung out for a while, and with BarMan too. I honestly don't remember much after that. I must have been at my tipping point.
The next thing I know, I opened my eyes and I was laying on top of my bed with my boots still on. I remembered having seen NextDoorNeighbor, so I sent him a text apologizing for my drunkeness. He called me right back.
"You weren't that drunk, we had so much fun with you!"
(Okay, so at least they couldn't tell...)
"I'll see you Saturday for the museum," he said.
(Huh? What the fuck is he talking about?)
"Okay..." I told him.
Then I saw I had two voice mails. It was the drunken Narc. I was wondering why he called me so I went back and checked my outgoing texts and saw that I had provoked the whole thing with an "I want to fuck you" message, (although I don't remember doing so).
Anyway, that's pretty much it for now. I have to go teach my second class in 10 minutes. I'm dying to go home and shower and change. I basically rolled out of bed in my clothes from last night and came to teach because I was so short on time this morning. I feel like there's dirt under my fingernails even though I washed my hands a million times. (Should I start psychoanalysing myself?) It's kind of gross. Probably hanging out with Hammer tonight. Some girl time will do me good.
I hate this fucking addiction to Narc though. He's such an ass, but I feel temporarily re-infected. If I can stay sober through the weekend, I should be back to working him out of my system. Wish me luck!
-Hyde
Message #1 (4:14 am)
Hey Hyde, It's Narc. I'm in the cab and this cab is "rock and rolling."
(Can you believe he actually said that? Anyway, it was followed by something totally incoherent. Then...)
I don't know. Um... Yeah.... Um... I don't know what to tell you. Um... Alright. We're done. I know we're done. But I want to fuck you tonight. Um... Yeah, okay, I got to get going. Give me a call back. Bye.
Message #2 (4:32 am)
(sounding a little more sober, but barely!)
Hey Hyde. This is SO STUPID, but um... I don't know. You know what? Honest to God, I just want someone to talk to. It's about 4:30. And um... I just thought... Well, I wanted to talk to you. But your number is famously out of... out of shit, out of shit.
(Huh?)
But anyway, it's 4:30 now. And uh... yeah. (sigh)
Alright, I'll see what I can do. I'll see if I can find some food. Alright. Bye.
Then my phone showed one missed call from him at 4:41 am. I think we have a record here--the first time that getting crazy drunk SAVED me from the Narc. I was passed out into a deep slumber by 2:30 am or so. Now, to be fair to Narc, I did instigate this last night. I texted him around 1:00 am that I wanted to fuck him. Shows how drunk I was... But I can't hate myself too much for that, because I just can't bear to hate myself any more than I already do right now. I woke up this morning STILL drunk (which is making my teaching day hell), and I wrote him back. Probably a mistake. I'm such a loser for this, but here's what I said--
Got ur messages. Sorry I missed u! I KNOW (as u put it) that we're "done," but does that mean we can't fuck now and then? U know what I want & where to find me... ;)
Okay, that message was wrong on SO many levels. First of all, if I'm texting him for sex, then I clearly don't "know" that we're done. And second of all, he has no fucking clue about "what I want." Clearly, I don't either. Ughhhh!!! But what's done is done. One good thing to say though, loving readers. I do have one reason not to beat myself over the head--today is the ONE MONTH anniversary of flushing my medicine down the toilet. Not bad, eh?
But back to my story... How did I end up in such a sorry state? Yesterday was a shitty day for me. I spent five hours in the morning alone in the hospital with my stepbrother. The piece of his skull that they had preserved in his abdomen got infected on Wednesday night and they had to do a surgery to remove it. Now it's lost forever. My stepfather stayed with him overnight and left for work when I arrived around 9:00. I had to stay until my stepsisters arrived at 1:30. There was a lot going on (a clogged food tube, people coming to evaluate him from the long-term care facility, etc.) and I had to keep track of everything since I was the only one there. On top of that, I was reading about art under the Nazis, which was not too cheering. Watching him was so hard. He seems to be in so much pain, but never moves the right side of his body (which makes sense with the massive left-side brain damage). It was awfully depressing.
I left there and headed back to the city around 2:00. I had an annoying cab driver from the hospital to the train station who asked me my name and when I told him, kept saying it over and over, telling me I had a "beautiful name." In the meanwhile I was trying to talk to my mom on my cell to fill her in on what the doctors were saying. Back at home I was too depressed to do much of anything, so I layed around for a while and vegetated. At around 6:00 I talked to Hammer for an hour or so on the phone and then took off for boxing. (God knows where I got the energy for it!)
Back from boxing, I should have gone home. (How many times have I told this story by now?) But instead, I grabbed a book and went to Cheers. I started off by reading and sipping wine. I was hanging out with BarMan for a while. The Colombians showed up (who only work weekends at Cheers), and I started talking to the one who always flirts with me. I drank two martinis and offered to buy him a drink. The old-timer from the other night was there too. He said he "can't speak" for the behavior of Super321. It was a good crowd, but I was still depressed so I drank some more. I was getting bored of it though. It all gets so fucking boring sometimes. I texted my friend Jake. Then I texted NextDoorNeighbor to see if he wanted to meet me for a drink. He showed up an hour or so later with a girl he's seeing. I was already wasted and bought them both drinks. (I think I was buying rounds for the whole fucking bar at that point!) We hung out for a while, and with BarMan too. I honestly don't remember much after that. I must have been at my tipping point.
The next thing I know, I opened my eyes and I was laying on top of my bed with my boots still on. I remembered having seen NextDoorNeighbor, so I sent him a text apologizing for my drunkeness. He called me right back.
"You weren't that drunk, we had so much fun with you!"
(Okay, so at least they couldn't tell...)
"I'll see you Saturday for the museum," he said.
(Huh? What the fuck is he talking about?)
"Okay..." I told him.
Then I saw I had two voice mails. It was the drunken Narc. I was wondering why he called me so I went back and checked my outgoing texts and saw that I had provoked the whole thing with an "I want to fuck you" message, (although I don't remember doing so).
Anyway, that's pretty much it for now. I have to go teach my second class in 10 minutes. I'm dying to go home and shower and change. I basically rolled out of bed in my clothes from last night and came to teach because I was so short on time this morning. I feel like there's dirt under my fingernails even though I washed my hands a million times. (Should I start psychoanalysing myself?) It's kind of gross. Probably hanging out with Hammer tonight. Some girl time will do me good.
I hate this fucking addiction to Narc though. He's such an ass, but I feel temporarily re-infected. If I can stay sober through the weekend, I should be back to working him out of my system. Wish me luck!
-Hyde
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Montag, Dienstag... The Week Kicked Off!
I spent so much time blogging about my fight with Anxious yesterday that I left out everything else, so here it is...
On Monday I had a hair-coloring debacle! Hammer and I had colored our hair on Saturday, but I hadn't had time to let the highlights set. I went back to the drug store on Monday to pick up some highlights, but got seduced by the flame-red hair on a box of Feria. I bought it, and used it and came out with maroon red fake punk-looking hair. I decided to try to make it look more "natural" by putting highlights over it, but I guess that I forgot that when you mix red and yellow you get orange! I came out looking like a clown with the most bright ORANGE hair you can imagine. There was no way I was going to live with that crap on my head for more than an hour. I wrapped my hair up in a scarf and went back to the drug store, buying a box of plain old brown. Now my hair is dark brown with a reddish tint, and actually looks pretty. It's much darker than it was before, but I think it's striking. Yay! Anyway, all the hours with the dye on my head took up a chunk of my afternoon.
After that, I went to the grocery store and came home and started cooking for B. After I finished preparing some of the meal, I went to Cheers. I hung out with BarMan for while. He was telling me some really entertaining stories, like when his ex-girlfriend spiked his drink with coke and gave him two tabs of E, pretending it was some kind of presecription anti-depressent. I was talking to some old-timer who used to be the super at a different building on my block. Some hyper, tattooed kid came in (around my age) who's friends with the old-timer and joined our conversation. It turns out that he's working as the super in the old-timer's former job. He programmed himself into my phone as "Super321." He was really excited to meet me, as he said he doesn't have that many friends in NY. He's only been in town for a few weeks. But I'm sorry, he was hitting on me a little too agressively and I found it irritating. I had no problem telling him that either.
In the meantime, I was getting pretty drunk waiting for B to show up. I started doing shots with Super321 and I continued downing Kettle One-Chambourd-Lime cocktails. Eventually B arrived and was pretty pissed off that I was drunk. I also think he was mad that I made him wait for me to finish my last drink while this guy was all over me. I don't blame him. I was acting like an ass and I'm mad at myself for it.
We went back to my place and I finished cooking dinner (while drunk--brilliant!) and we watched 24. After that, (and I don't remember how it started), I got all emotional and upset--probably because B was mad at me. I started crying and all of these feelings about my brother came flooding out. I was fixated on the idea (sparked by a conversation with Hammer the other day) that what happened to my brother was my fault. I had gone to visit a psychic in the fall and she warned me about all sorts of "demons" around me. I shrugged it off at the time because I don't buy into that stuff, but since then, a lot has been going wrong. I'll recount that whole story in another post, because it was kind of weird. Eventually B and I made up (after enough tears had fallen) and crashed to sleep.
Tuesday morning I was supposed to have German class with Hammer, but our instructor canceled due to illness. As such, I had the morning to fuck around and waste time, which was nice. I went through that whole e-mail exchange with Anxious and psyched myself up about how to deal with it. After class that afternoon ("Stalinism as Civilization") I went to Subway (for a sandwich) with Hammer and got revved up for my 5:00 phone call/confrontation with Anxious. It was fucking FREEZING out yesterday and the walk home was brutal. I decided to take the cross-town bus, but ended up waiting 15 minutes in the whipping wind and probably could have made it home faster on foot.
When Anxious called, she started off immediately with an apology--both for "betraying me" by not telling me about the Narc-masturbation thing and for pressing too hard on staying at my place. It set the right tone and deflated my short-lived anger. It was such a girly fight--basically a two hour long phone conversation about "feelings." I felt good because I stood my ground, and also because I softened to her once I actually heard her voice and it wasn't all over email. The ups and downs of the phone call are way too much to detail here, and besides, you're probably sick of the issue since I bombarded you with our entire email correspondence in yesterday's post. The bottom line is, though, that we're going to try to stick it out as friends and to keep from stepping on each other's toes.
After the phone call, I had to race off to boxing class. I was running about 10 minutes late. Class was fun, once again. We learned the "uppercut" punch and worked on punch combinations. I was psyched all through the class because I had a date with the Stallion at 10:30. When I texted him to confirm, he wrote back that he "wouldn't miss it for the world." I thought it was sweet, so even though the boxing gym is in Narc's neighborhood, it got my mind off him for a while.
I raced home after class and "beautified." Then I went to Cheers to wait for the Stallion. It was REALLY empty because of the freezing weather. BarMan was covering for IrishBird and the only two people there were PumpedUp and FightingMensch. (Later some more people came in, but I was already talking to the Stallion at that point). The boys were acting like jackasses and making dirty jokes and cracking each other up. I tried to "ignore them," but chimed in here and there. Mostly, I just sat there sipping my drinks.
Finally at around 11:00, the Stallion showed up. He totally scooped me up when he came in. We hung out at the bar for about an hour or so. He kissed me a few times and I'm a little embarassed that I did that in front of my bar boys, but whatever... Also, at one point my super came in, and I'm sure he thinks its shady that I was there making out with the Stallion because he used to think of me as such a "good girl." Oh well...
At some point, the Stallion and I decided to call it a night. He said that he wished that I had some "medicine" and despite myself I brainstormed a way to get it, but ended up doing the better thing and not giving in to it. (Yay! Jekyll is growing stronger!)
Back at my house, he drank a lot more SoCo, but I already had a nice buzz so I didn't have any. After that (and during), fucking, fucking and more fucking (don't want to make this blog X-rated, so we'll leave it at that). Finally, we fell asleep. Then more fucking in the middle of the night a few times and in the morning, until finally the alarm went off brutally early at 7:15.
Even though I was sleeping next to the Stallion (and fucking him intermittently all through the night), I kept having dreams about Narc. (I feel sick for still loving him even though the more I think about it, the more I think he is a little psychopathic, in terms of lacking empathy). In one dream, we were at some beach house and he kicked me out of bed and a friend of my friend IronChef's was there and she was waiting to sleep with him or something. I tried to warn her that he's an ass and he got upset at me and told me that I shouldn't speak badly of him or he'd never take me back. I was really upset in the dream, but talk about pathetic... Ughh! I HATE loving him!!!
Anyway, the Stallion and I parted ways this morning at the subway station. He told me that he may be moving back to NY soon. (Uh Oh!) His mother is sick and he's probably going to come back here to take care of her and to run her real estate business. I asked him what that meant for him and his girlfriend. He told me that she'd probably follow him here in a little while. It's weird though. I know he thinks we have some kind of special "connection," but I can't imagine ever being with him on any kind of regular basis, so if he really does move back here, I'll have to make some kind of decision about how to handle it. I don't want to be a permanent "other woman" and screw up his girlfriend's life either...
Anyway, I'm in my office now, getting ready to teach. Have to go make some photocopies and do an attendance roster, so more later...
-Hyde
On Monday I had a hair-coloring debacle! Hammer and I had colored our hair on Saturday, but I hadn't had time to let the highlights set. I went back to the drug store on Monday to pick up some highlights, but got seduced by the flame-red hair on a box of Feria. I bought it, and used it and came out with maroon red fake punk-looking hair. I decided to try to make it look more "natural" by putting highlights over it, but I guess that I forgot that when you mix red and yellow you get orange! I came out looking like a clown with the most bright ORANGE hair you can imagine. There was no way I was going to live with that crap on my head for more than an hour. I wrapped my hair up in a scarf and went back to the drug store, buying a box of plain old brown. Now my hair is dark brown with a reddish tint, and actually looks pretty. It's much darker than it was before, but I think it's striking. Yay! Anyway, all the hours with the dye on my head took up a chunk of my afternoon.
After that, I went to the grocery store and came home and started cooking for B. After I finished preparing some of the meal, I went to Cheers. I hung out with BarMan for while. He was telling me some really entertaining stories, like when his ex-girlfriend spiked his drink with coke and gave him two tabs of E, pretending it was some kind of presecription anti-depressent. I was talking to some old-timer who used to be the super at a different building on my block. Some hyper, tattooed kid came in (around my age) who's friends with the old-timer and joined our conversation. It turns out that he's working as the super in the old-timer's former job. He programmed himself into my phone as "Super321." He was really excited to meet me, as he said he doesn't have that many friends in NY. He's only been in town for a few weeks. But I'm sorry, he was hitting on me a little too agressively and I found it irritating. I had no problem telling him that either.
In the meantime, I was getting pretty drunk waiting for B to show up. I started doing shots with Super321 and I continued downing Kettle One-Chambourd-Lime cocktails. Eventually B arrived and was pretty pissed off that I was drunk. I also think he was mad that I made him wait for me to finish my last drink while this guy was all over me. I don't blame him. I was acting like an ass and I'm mad at myself for it.
We went back to my place and I finished cooking dinner (while drunk--brilliant!) and we watched 24. After that, (and I don't remember how it started), I got all emotional and upset--probably because B was mad at me. I started crying and all of these feelings about my brother came flooding out. I was fixated on the idea (sparked by a conversation with Hammer the other day) that what happened to my brother was my fault. I had gone to visit a psychic in the fall and she warned me about all sorts of "demons" around me. I shrugged it off at the time because I don't buy into that stuff, but since then, a lot has been going wrong. I'll recount that whole story in another post, because it was kind of weird. Eventually B and I made up (after enough tears had fallen) and crashed to sleep.
Tuesday morning I was supposed to have German class with Hammer, but our instructor canceled due to illness. As such, I had the morning to fuck around and waste time, which was nice. I went through that whole e-mail exchange with Anxious and psyched myself up about how to deal with it. After class that afternoon ("Stalinism as Civilization") I went to Subway (for a sandwich) with Hammer and got revved up for my 5:00 phone call/confrontation with Anxious. It was fucking FREEZING out yesterday and the walk home was brutal. I decided to take the cross-town bus, but ended up waiting 15 minutes in the whipping wind and probably could have made it home faster on foot.
When Anxious called, she started off immediately with an apology--both for "betraying me" by not telling me about the Narc-masturbation thing and for pressing too hard on staying at my place. It set the right tone and deflated my short-lived anger. It was such a girly fight--basically a two hour long phone conversation about "feelings." I felt good because I stood my ground, and also because I softened to her once I actually heard her voice and it wasn't all over email. The ups and downs of the phone call are way too much to detail here, and besides, you're probably sick of the issue since I bombarded you with our entire email correspondence in yesterday's post. The bottom line is, though, that we're going to try to stick it out as friends and to keep from stepping on each other's toes.
After the phone call, I had to race off to boxing class. I was running about 10 minutes late. Class was fun, once again. We learned the "uppercut" punch and worked on punch combinations. I was psyched all through the class because I had a date with the Stallion at 10:30. When I texted him to confirm, he wrote back that he "wouldn't miss it for the world." I thought it was sweet, so even though the boxing gym is in Narc's neighborhood, it got my mind off him for a while.
I raced home after class and "beautified." Then I went to Cheers to wait for the Stallion. It was REALLY empty because of the freezing weather. BarMan was covering for IrishBird and the only two people there were PumpedUp and FightingMensch. (Later some more people came in, but I was already talking to the Stallion at that point). The boys were acting like jackasses and making dirty jokes and cracking each other up. I tried to "ignore them," but chimed in here and there. Mostly, I just sat there sipping my drinks.
Finally at around 11:00, the Stallion showed up. He totally scooped me up when he came in. We hung out at the bar for about an hour or so. He kissed me a few times and I'm a little embarassed that I did that in front of my bar boys, but whatever... Also, at one point my super came in, and I'm sure he thinks its shady that I was there making out with the Stallion because he used to think of me as such a "good girl." Oh well...
At some point, the Stallion and I decided to call it a night. He said that he wished that I had some "medicine" and despite myself I brainstormed a way to get it, but ended up doing the better thing and not giving in to it. (Yay! Jekyll is growing stronger!)
Back at my house, he drank a lot more SoCo, but I already had a nice buzz so I didn't have any. After that (and during), fucking, fucking and more fucking (don't want to make this blog X-rated, so we'll leave it at that). Finally, we fell asleep. Then more fucking in the middle of the night a few times and in the morning, until finally the alarm went off brutally early at 7:15.
Even though I was sleeping next to the Stallion (and fucking him intermittently all through the night), I kept having dreams about Narc. (I feel sick for still loving him even though the more I think about it, the more I think he is a little psychopathic, in terms of lacking empathy). In one dream, we were at some beach house and he kicked me out of bed and a friend of my friend IronChef's was there and she was waiting to sleep with him or something. I tried to warn her that he's an ass and he got upset at me and told me that I shouldn't speak badly of him or he'd never take me back. I was really upset in the dream, but talk about pathetic... Ughh! I HATE loving him!!!
Anyway, the Stallion and I parted ways this morning at the subway station. He told me that he may be moving back to NY soon. (Uh Oh!) His mother is sick and he's probably going to come back here to take care of her and to run her real estate business. I asked him what that meant for him and his girlfriend. He told me that she'd probably follow him here in a little while. It's weird though. I know he thinks we have some kind of special "connection," but I can't imagine ever being with him on any kind of regular basis, so if he really does move back here, I'll have to make some kind of decision about how to handle it. I don't want to be a permanent "other woman" and screw up his girlfriend's life either...
Anyway, I'm in my office now, getting ready to teach. Have to go make some photocopies and do an attendance roster, so more later...
-Hyde
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Monday's Masturbation E-mail Fight
Yesterday was a dramatic day. I got in a huge e-mail fight with Anxious, got drunk early in the evening, cooked B a delicious spaghetti dinner and suffered several crying fits before the night was through.
Let's start with the Anxious thing. Loyal readers of my blog may have picked up on this from my March 1st "Letter to Narc," but there was a strange incident involving masturbation between Anxious and Narc. I didn't hear about this from either of them. Instead, I was told about it by another close friend, GoldenFinch, who called me after Anxious visited her last weekend.
Basically, what GoldenFinch told me is that on Valentine's Day, when I was out at my voice lesson that Narc came out of my bedroom naked, sat on the pull-out sofa bed and masturbated while conducting a "normal" conversation with Anxious. I was pretty upset that Anxious didn't tell me about it and I had to find a way to bring it up to her. However, GoldenFinch made me promise not to tell Anxious that she told me, so I decided to tell Anxious that Narc told me about it himself. To make matters worse between me and Anxious, she has been pressuring me to let her stay at my house while she gets settled in the city and starts temping. I told her a few times that it's too difficult for me right now, going through everything with my brother and all, but she hasn't taken the hint. I avoided returning her calls and emails for the past week or so, but finally made myself do it on Sunday night. I'll give you guys some excerpts of the email exchanges that followed.
***************
Hi Anxious,
(First I gave her an update on my brother...)
Then...
I know that you said that you needed a place to stay for a few days, and I feel terrible about this, but I really can't handle having a house guest right now. I just need my private space. I've been having sleep problems, etc. If you need a place to crash overnight, that's one thing, but a longer stay is just too much for me right now. I'm sure you understand. What's happening in my family is the most awful thing there is.
(Then some chit-chat about a mutual friend...)
Then...
Also, I know I told you about the Narc thing (which is honestly the least of my worries, but is lingering on my mind) and there's one thing I wanted to ask you before massive amounts of time go by. Narc told me about how it was when I was out at my voice lesson. Not that there's any point to it at this point, but I was wondering what happened according to you--just for peace of mind.
-Hyde
*********************
Excerpts from her response:
(On staying at my place:)
I *do* understand and you know I HATE to ask anything of anybody and wouldn't unless I really needed it. I just don't know how else to get back on my feet...and I NEED to get back on my feet. I can't find a job, but at least with a temp job I can move out, hopefully. But the thing is, they don't give you a week or two to find housing before you start a temp job; it's "come in tomorrow," and that's what's hanging me up. It's too far to drive from here. I definitely don't want to be a "houseguest," with the responsibility that implies, or impose. If I could crash for a night or two, that would be wonderful. I wish I had thought to do this when Scotland and I were together and I could've stayed with him, but who knew it would end so suddenly? I know the timing is awful and I totally understand the need for private space and I don't want to be a burden. I do understand. I guess if worst came to worst, I could try to find the $$ to stay in a hostel. I wanted to ask you first because a) you had offered, b) it seemed the sort of things friends do for each other (although I realize these are exceptional circumstances and bad timing and can't blame you for not being able to right now), and c) you might even be insulted if I was staying in a hostel instead. I've been sensitive to the fact that you're really overburdened lately. There have been a couple of nights when I've had to drive home from class really late in snowstorms, and it's been terrifying, and I had the thought to call you up and ask if I could crash at your place instead. And I know that normally, of course you'd be fine with that -- even enjoy the unexpected company, as I would myself if the shoe were on the other foot. But I don't want to ask anything more than I absolutely have to right now. I've been having sleep problems too. I just keep on waking up early. I can't sleep enough, no matter when I go to bed. I've got too much on my mind. Guess you're going through the same thing.
(This pissed me off on so many levels. First of all, we're SO NOT "going through the same thing." Second of all, she's saying that she "hates to ask" and "understands" my situation, but I alreay told her "no" and she's continuing to pressure me!)
(Now, her response to the Narc-masturbation thing:)
Aha. I was debating whether to say anything to you, and decided against it -- given the recent fragility of our relationship, I didn't want to throw any weird triangles into the mix. And I figured that if I accused him of anything, he might deny it or lie in some way that made me look bad, and then you'd be mad at me and that would be awful...I can't believe he would tell you about that. It only makes HIM look bad, unless he told you something that wasn't the truth! It was QUITE weird, and I was appalled. I figured it would upset you so I kept quiet about it.
Okay, here goes. He got up that afternoon and wandered out naked, which didn't faze me all that much because he was wandering around naked the night before and nudity doesn't bother me, although I do think it's slightly weird when your lover is right there to be naked in front of another girl. Anyhow, he sat on your barstool and smoked a couple of cigarettes, naked, while I bustled around fully clothed putting on makeup and arranging my stuff. Then he wandered over to the bed, lay down...and began to masturbate. He kept this up for quite some time. (That's why I didn't make up the bed, which I would normally do as a houseguest; I couldn't get near it.) I had math homework to do and was sitting at your desk doing it.
At some points I had to get up and walk across the room to get things and I just had no idea what to do, so I pretended nothing was unusual and just kept up the conversation as if he were wearing a business suit. It was not, by the way, a sexy conversation of any kind, which was why the whole thing was so odd. He just kept touching himself for the longest time. I have to say, I'm not all that fazed by nudity or even sex in public, but masturbation strikes me as being a really private thing and I thought it was extremely odd, to say the least.
I was wondering if he was trying to come on to me or provoke me or something. I had no idea, so I just totally ignored it and kept making references to "Hyde should be home really soon" so he'd put clothes on. When you called to say you were running late, I was like, Oh, great. I thought it was, how shall I put it, in bad taste to come on to someone who was obviously in such a fragile and vulnerable state as I was, and in the apartment of the woman he was seeing, no less. But I didn't see any point in getting mad about it. I was all alone with him and he's a big guy and I didn't want to start any kind of confrontation, so I tried to stay casual. (If he WAS trying to come on to me, that strikes me as being a weird way to do it. I'm really turned off watching men masturbate. I prefer they do it in private.)
That's the entire story of what happened while you were at your voice lesson -- no more, no less. I can't *imagine* why he'd tell you about that. Or did he tell you something else? Anyhow, that's part of what led me to describe him as destructive and untrustworthy, and to urge you to use a condom with him. Whatever kind of arrangement you two have, I can't imagine that it includes masturbating in front of friends!
(Then she goes on about a few other things)
-Anxious
*********************
Anyway, I wrote back to her from my office yesterday morning. Here's some excerpts from that:
*********************
Hey,
When I asked you what you thought of him, I wondered if you would mention the situation. I think it's strange that not knowing what his intentions were, you said that he was
"not the slightest bit malicious. He is, however, honest -- about that everything else. He is not deceptive. He is really fond of you, but not up for a serious relationship at this moment, and he is honest about that too."
You went on to say:
"I liked him a whole lot more than I expected to, given the picture you'd painted of him. (I think, in my reckless and un-self-censoring state of mind that night, I made that quite clear to him, too! He had the graciousness not to take offense, for which I give him credit.)"
He doesn't care about people's feelings. He's strangely unempathetic but knows how to put on the right masks at the right times. I KNOW that he did the naked-masterbation thing because he likes to make people uncomfortable and wanted to watch you squirm a bit and because he wanted to laugh at both of us later. YOU didn't know that though. He thought the whole thing was really funny--pitting two friends against each other. It's a power thing. I guess I'm mad that you let him put that kind of divide between us and that you let him make me look stupid like that.
But while he thought it was funny, I can't imagine what YOU were thinking and why you didn't mention it to me! I remember when I called on my way home that day that you sounded strange on the phone and I even asked you what was going on because you were laughing nervously and kept giving me "yes" and "no" answers, yet you assured me that nothing was wrong. Why didn't you say something?
HELLO?!?!?! NARC WAS TRYING TO HUMILIATE ME.
WHY didn't you go in the other room, or tell him that he was being inappropriate or go for a walk or give me a call? Or do anything to get out of the situation? I know he's a "big guy," as you say, but I've known him for eight months and I don't think he would have attacked you and raped you if you excused yoursef. Even if you didn't want to leave (b/c I asked you not to leave him alone in my apartment), you could have said something to me right away. Instead, when I walked into the room, I was made a fool of. Why didn't you pull me aside right away and tell me that he had been inappropriate so that I could have some control of the situation? Instead, I ended up being an idiot in his stupid game, exactly like he wanted.
Also, you don't know him at all, so as far as you were concerned, he could have been sincerely coming on to you (although in a very unattractive way, I agree), but if he were hitting on you, I also should have known about it, n'est pas?
(blah, blah, blah...I'm skipping some parts here, but I basically tell her that he plays those sort of games with me non-stop and it wasn't about HER that day, but about Narc being an asshole to ME...)
He's more intentionally mean to me than he would be to anyone else, including a stranger. (Hence, why he was so nice to you, but kept dicking me around that weekend). I mean, even our conversation at Manchester pub was full of pointed hidden messages to me. (He was telling you that there's "no excuse" for a guy not to return your calls... Narc and I had been in a fight about that just two days before, and he said it to get to me, not to be nice to you.) His actions that day (and on Sunday at the bar) were all about his fucked up feelings for me. But the point is that you didn't necessarily know that, and you didn't say something either way.
It doesn't matter anymore because we're "broken up" for the forseeable future and he's a jack-ass and a bit of a misogynist all rolled up into one (just my type, right?) so there's no point in dwelling on it, but that said, it's been bothering me for a few weeks now because as friends, we HAVE to be able to trust each other, right? The incident made me feel stupid, and I feel like you should have said something as soon as I came in. I don't want to start a new fight with you or anything, but I can't understand this one.
(Then, onto the issue of my apartment:)
As for staying at my place, I suppose I can handle one to two nights max if you're really in an emergency. I don't want to be a bitch about it, and I do understand that you need the space, but I have to assert my own needs here too. I mean, if you didn't have me in the city, you would figure SOMETHING else out, so there have to be other possibilities, and I am going through a major family crisis. I just have so much pressing on me, and I don't think it's entirely fair of you to persist in asking for my help right now. That said, I'm always there for my friends at the bottom line, and if you are that desperate, I can try. Which nights were you thinking? I can try to work something out (but I can't promise).
Anyway, this email turned out much longer than expected and I'm really running late now. We can continue and figure this stuff out later.
Talk to you soon...
-Hyde
**************************
Her response to me:
Okay...this is really not cool!
This is the whole reason I didn't tell you. I did absolutely nothing wrong here, and yet you're mad at me. I worried that would happen. Look, I was a houseguest in your home. I expected to spend time with you -- not Narc. Yet I saw more of Narc than you. That's fine. But I was put into an enormously uncomfortable situation. That's not my fault. Did it ever occur to you that you might apologize to *me* for my having been in such an uncomfortable situation while a guest in your home? Nobody I wasn't dating has ever gotten naked and masturbated in front of me before, Hyde. I had no idea how to handle the situation, so I ignored it. I worried that, given the fragility of our relationship lately, you might somehow get jealous that he was coming on to me, and take it out on me. I figured I'd tell you at some point, but in person, so it wouldn't be misinterpreted and we could talk about it. It made me really, really uncomfortable. I mean, that's so far outside the bounds of what I expect to happen when I stay at a friend's house.
I don't think you should be angry at me. I know you've been going through a difficult time and I didn't want to bring up one more upsetting thing, especially a) not knowing what's going on with him and b) worried that you'd misinterpret things. You know, I could have been upset with you for leaving me alone with someone who does stuff like that. But I'm not. I figure, whatever. I had no idea he was playing mindgames or humiliating you, but to get angry with me because my silence allowed him to "win" is ridiculous, and unfair. How was I supposed to know what kind of crazy game he was playing? This whole thing is way more fucked up and complicated than I thought. I thought it was straightforward -- he was coming on to me behind your back -- and I thought if I ignored it, it would be best for everyone, and I planned to tell you at some point in person because it's kind of delicate. I had no idea he was doing it to jab at you. I had NO idea that he was setting up some sort of bizarre game where he and I were "in the know" against you.
Please! This is RIDICULOUS. Nobody I know THINKS that way. It's just nuts. But you should not allow someone so evil to come between us. I would never do anything to hurt or upset you, and I was so dumbfounded, I'm still processing it. I didn't know what the hell to think. You should be mad at him, not me. As for him not being malicious...well, now it is abundantly clear that he is. The nice things I said about him were about me trying to find something nice to say about the man you loved. Also, I only had a surface impression of him, after all. I thought he was being a horny ass, but I didn't realize how malicious he was being -- how could I?
You've known him for 8 months but didn't trust him alone in your apartment; I didn't know what you meant by that, but I figured, Hmmm, she doesn't trust him alone with her stuff! And a guy who'll masturbate in front of his girlfriend's friend, whom he just met, is so far outside the bounds of normal appropriate behavior that I was, frankly, a little nervous. I worried that he might get physical with me or try to force something and didn't want to chance it by confronting him. I think you can understand that. I mean...I just have NO experience with this kind of situation! (Thankfully.) ...
His mindgames are NOT my problem...I had no idea what was going on!
...I wanted to tell you in person because it's so easy to misinterpret tone in an e-mail. I thought we'd see each other again soon. Also, it's not as if he were your boyfriend or husband -- in that case, if you catch the guy misbehaving, the woman definitely ought to know as soon as possible. But I was under the impression that you were just fuckbuddies and he was probably sleeping with other people, as were you. But I've heard several different opinions on this kind of thing -- should you tell your friend her man is misbehaving, or not? What if she takes her anger out on you instead of him? Etc. -- so it wasn't obvious to me what I should do. Some women sincerely don't want to know. I was planning to tell you in person, though...and I certainly wasn't going to bring it up now, with all the other stress you've got going on. Okay, that's enough about Narc. I love you and don't want you to be angry at me.
As for staying at your place, I won't ask again. I don't like to be in a position where I'm begging. I always thought that would be the sort of things friends would easily do for each other, and I've rarely asked a favor. When I say there's almost nothing I wouldn't do for my friends, I mean it. If any of my friends ever needed a place to crash, my spare room would be available indefinitely. I've had many, many people offer their couches to me to stay while I job-hunt -- people I hardly know, friends of my parents, my sister, even my friends in Barcelona. You happen to be the only person in Manhattan, besides being my closest friend, so I asked you. And you had offered to let me stay for a week back in Nov. or Dec. That's why I asked now; I'm finally ready to take you up on it.
That said, I do understand what you're going through. You've got so much going on, and it's all really draining, and you can't take on anything else right now. It *would* be an imposition, so I'm not going to ask again. I don't ever want to press for a favor. That's rude. If someone kindly offers something, that's one thing. I even thought it might be a nice thing right now for you to have someone there with you. As you said, what would I do if I didn't have you? Well, of course, if I didn't have friends, I'd have to find an alternative way to do things, and I will. But I do have friends, or at least I think I have friends, so I asked my friend for a favor first. When the chips are down, you turn to your friends. If they aren't there for you, you find another solution and learn a lesson.
I do understand how horrible your situation is right now, what with your brother and your family. Look, all I've ever tried to do is be a good friend. I've never taken advantage of anyone, never betrayed anyone, never been rude to anyone. Please don't let some idiot guy come between us -- and please try to understand my situation as well. Maybe we can talk by phone? I never am able to reach you; are you ever home?
Let's talk...
-Anxious
**********************
Now I was really pissed off! My response to her:
Anxious,
I do think it's best if we talk in person or at least on the phone. I'm spilling over with feelings right now and I don't want this email to come out wrong. But I do have to respond.
First of all, on Narc--It's not like I'm mad at you INSTEAD of him. I'm mad at both of you. And even though he called us "fuck buddies," you know that he's been someone I've been talking about for a while and someone who's played a significant role in my life. The truth of the matter is that we had been seeing each other exclusively since November and he told me that he loves me as early as late September. The details of our relationship shouldn't matter though. A guy I'm with did something sexual in your presence, and I should have known about it from you.
Obviously you're not responsible for him acting like an ass, but I strongly l think you should have said something to me straight out. Girls have to stick together. If he was "deceiving" me on any level, it's incredibly disempowering to not have that information and to not be able to make a choice about how to deal with it. I think it's just plain weird for you to have had clearly negative information about someone I'm in a relationship with and not tell me about it. Just to protect yourself from my "awful wrath?" You should know that we can talk things out no matter what. You should trust our friendship enough to believe that I know you and that I know him and I know which one of you is the asshole and which one is the long-term friend. You say you "did absolutely nothing wrong here," and I agree in terms of what went down while I wasn't there. In fact, if you had told me right away I would have been extremely apologetic to you (even though I'm not responsible for his erratic behavior). But I think it was very wrong not to tell me about it as soon as possible--as in as soon as I walked in the door that afternoon. It makes me sick to think that I was on the phone with you while he was doing that and you didn't say ANYTHING!
As for staying at my place, I think it's INCREDIBLY unfair of you to imply that I'm a bad friend for asserting myself. Well, I'm sorry for being a piece of shit. You're obviously such a superior person. After all, if any of your friends need a place, "your spare room would be available indefinitely." It's so very clear what you're implying when you say that you have so "many, many people offer their couches" to you while you job hunt, including "people you hardly know." I'm a shit friend. I'm selfish. I'm not there for those I love. I've disappointed you. Even mere acquaintences treat you better.
Well, FUCK THAT. First of all, I don't have a "spare room." My living room is my living space. Second of all, please don't insult me like that. I have always been there for those I love and I always will be. That doesn't mean that it has to come at my own expense when my brother is lying brain-dead and fighting for his life. Who's the selfish one here?
You say that you "understand what I'm going through," but you obviously have NO FUCKING CLUE what this is like. If you did, you would be asking what you can do for ME instead of asking what I can do for YOU. If you understood even a little, you certainly wouldn't imply that I'm a bad friend for needing my own space in which to cope with an excrutiating painful and difficult situation.
I really don't want to be in a fight with you. I'm willing to forget all about the Narc thing and move on because I said my bit, and I know that you heard me. I know that you weren't trying to hurt me, but I hope should this (bizarre incident) ever happen again, you would repsond differently. He's a dick and there's no point in dwelling on it. I am, however, really upset right now at the tone of your emails to me, especially in terms of the apartment thing. To tell you the truth, I can't fucking deal with this right now and you clearly have no idea what this is like for me.
That said, let's talk soon because I don't want this to fester and turn bad. I'm hard pressed for "down-time" these days, but should be home tomorrow between my class and before boxing (so from 5:00-7:00-ish). Is that a good time to talk?
Hyde
********************
Her response (which I read this morning):
I can't take all this fighting. I'm going through a difficult time right now and I don't like fighting. So yes, I want to talk.
(In terms of how I said she called me a bad friend, etc.): Oh, come on, I never said any of that. If I implied it I'm sorry. But I sure as heck didn't mean it to sound that way. You misunderstand -- I'm just explaining why I thought it was okay to ask. It just didn't seem like such a big deal because so many people said, "Hey, if you need a place to stay, you can crash with me/my daughter/etc. for a week." So I was just saying that to explain why I thought it wasn't that big a deal to ask. It's HARD to ask favors. I only do it when I'm desperate. Can you understand that? That's why I bent over backwards with justifications for why I thought it was okay to ask. Oh, come on. Neither of us is selfish. Just worked up.
(In terms of how I say she should be asking "what she can do for ME"): Excuse me -- but I have been all along. I've called you often to ask how you were. I've always asked if there was anything I could do. And I would do anything for you. But you don't need anything from me. You have all the emotional and financial resources you need from your family, and you've never really called on me in need. I wish you would. You would really find out how much I do care.
I didn't call you a bad friend. I'm disappointed that you can't be there for me when I need you, but I also thought I made it clear -- and if I didn't, I'm making it clear now -- that I understand why you can't. You have to take care of yourself first. Everybody does. And right now you don't have anything to offer anyone else. I do understand that. You're not a shit friend, come on.
(On Narc): Frankly, I didn't understand the situation AT ALL. I didn't understand your relationship, his intentions, any of it. There is no set rule for how to respond, and I've never been put in that situation before. I wanted to talk about it, but recall that just two days later, you started dealing with this stuff with your brother, and I had no idea you'd want to hear more bad stuff on top of that, so I figured it could wait until we saw each other. (I have to add that it was NOT just two days later, but more like 10!) Maybe we should have ground rules for what to do when the man you're seeing does something totally inappropriate. I just never dealt with a situation like that before. Some women want to know everything; others definitely prefer to turn a blind eye; and still others say they want to know, then shoot the messenger.
Hyde, you need to realize that I didn't know which category you fell into here.
Or maybe I should've just fucked him while you were at your lesson, as long as you were going to get mad at both of us.
Guess what? My life is hard too and it's been harder lately because my erstwhile best friend keeps picking fights with me. I can't deal with it either. And I realize I sounded really testy about the apartment thing. But we can talk about that tomorrow too.
It's already bad. I'm hurt and pissed off and really getting tired of people getting mad at me for what strikes me as no good reason. But let's talk tomorrow around 5. I mean, at least you're telling me you're mad at me. That's progress. E-mail exchanges like these, by the way, are EXACTLY why I was waiting to talk to you about your shit-ass boyfriend in person. Just shooting daggers back and forth really doesn't go anywhere.
-Anxious
************************
Well, I'm a sucker, so I wrote back a quickie:
Let's start with the Anxious thing. Loyal readers of my blog may have picked up on this from my March 1st "Letter to Narc," but there was a strange incident involving masturbation between Anxious and Narc. I didn't hear about this from either of them. Instead, I was told about it by another close friend, GoldenFinch, who called me after Anxious visited her last weekend.
Basically, what GoldenFinch told me is that on Valentine's Day, when I was out at my voice lesson that Narc came out of my bedroom naked, sat on the pull-out sofa bed and masturbated while conducting a "normal" conversation with Anxious. I was pretty upset that Anxious didn't tell me about it and I had to find a way to bring it up to her. However, GoldenFinch made me promise not to tell Anxious that she told me, so I decided to tell Anxious that Narc told me about it himself. To make matters worse between me and Anxious, she has been pressuring me to let her stay at my house while she gets settled in the city and starts temping. I told her a few times that it's too difficult for me right now, going through everything with my brother and all, but she hasn't taken the hint. I avoided returning her calls and emails for the past week or so, but finally made myself do it on Sunday night. I'll give you guys some excerpts of the email exchanges that followed.
***************
Hi Anxious,
(First I gave her an update on my brother...)
Then...
I know that you said that you needed a place to stay for a few days, and I feel terrible about this, but I really can't handle having a house guest right now. I just need my private space. I've been having sleep problems, etc. If you need a place to crash overnight, that's one thing, but a longer stay is just too much for me right now. I'm sure you understand. What's happening in my family is the most awful thing there is.
(Then some chit-chat about a mutual friend...)
Then...
Also, I know I told you about the Narc thing (which is honestly the least of my worries, but is lingering on my mind) and there's one thing I wanted to ask you before massive amounts of time go by. Narc told me about how it was when I was out at my voice lesson. Not that there's any point to it at this point, but I was wondering what happened according to you--just for peace of mind.
-Hyde
*********************
Excerpts from her response:
(On staying at my place:)
I *do* understand and you know I HATE to ask anything of anybody and wouldn't unless I really needed it. I just don't know how else to get back on my feet...and I NEED to get back on my feet. I can't find a job, but at least with a temp job I can move out, hopefully. But the thing is, they don't give you a week or two to find housing before you start a temp job; it's "come in tomorrow," and that's what's hanging me up. It's too far to drive from here. I definitely don't want to be a "houseguest," with the responsibility that implies, or impose. If I could crash for a night or two, that would be wonderful. I wish I had thought to do this when Scotland and I were together and I could've stayed with him, but who knew it would end so suddenly? I know the timing is awful and I totally understand the need for private space and I don't want to be a burden. I do understand. I guess if worst came to worst, I could try to find the $$ to stay in a hostel. I wanted to ask you first because a) you had offered, b) it seemed the sort of things friends do for each other (although I realize these are exceptional circumstances and bad timing and can't blame you for not being able to right now), and c) you might even be insulted if I was staying in a hostel instead. I've been sensitive to the fact that you're really overburdened lately. There have been a couple of nights when I've had to drive home from class really late in snowstorms, and it's been terrifying, and I had the thought to call you up and ask if I could crash at your place instead. And I know that normally, of course you'd be fine with that -- even enjoy the unexpected company, as I would myself if the shoe were on the other foot. But I don't want to ask anything more than I absolutely have to right now. I've been having sleep problems too. I just keep on waking up early. I can't sleep enough, no matter when I go to bed. I've got too much on my mind. Guess you're going through the same thing.
(This pissed me off on so many levels. First of all, we're SO NOT "going through the same thing." Second of all, she's saying that she "hates to ask" and "understands" my situation, but I alreay told her "no" and she's continuing to pressure me!)
(Now, her response to the Narc-masturbation thing:)
Aha. I was debating whether to say anything to you, and decided against it -- given the recent fragility of our relationship, I didn't want to throw any weird triangles into the mix. And I figured that if I accused him of anything, he might deny it or lie in some way that made me look bad, and then you'd be mad at me and that would be awful...I can't believe he would tell you about that. It only makes HIM look bad, unless he told you something that wasn't the truth! It was QUITE weird, and I was appalled. I figured it would upset you so I kept quiet about it.
Okay, here goes. He got up that afternoon and wandered out naked, which didn't faze me all that much because he was wandering around naked the night before and nudity doesn't bother me, although I do think it's slightly weird when your lover is right there to be naked in front of another girl. Anyhow, he sat on your barstool and smoked a couple of cigarettes, naked, while I bustled around fully clothed putting on makeup and arranging my stuff. Then he wandered over to the bed, lay down...and began to masturbate. He kept this up for quite some time. (That's why I didn't make up the bed, which I would normally do as a houseguest; I couldn't get near it.) I had math homework to do and was sitting at your desk doing it.
At some points I had to get up and walk across the room to get things and I just had no idea what to do, so I pretended nothing was unusual and just kept up the conversation as if he were wearing a business suit. It was not, by the way, a sexy conversation of any kind, which was why the whole thing was so odd. He just kept touching himself for the longest time. I have to say, I'm not all that fazed by nudity or even sex in public, but masturbation strikes me as being a really private thing and I thought it was extremely odd, to say the least.
I was wondering if he was trying to come on to me or provoke me or something. I had no idea, so I just totally ignored it and kept making references to "Hyde should be home really soon" so he'd put clothes on. When you called to say you were running late, I was like, Oh, great. I thought it was, how shall I put it, in bad taste to come on to someone who was obviously in such a fragile and vulnerable state as I was, and in the apartment of the woman he was seeing, no less. But I didn't see any point in getting mad about it. I was all alone with him and he's a big guy and I didn't want to start any kind of confrontation, so I tried to stay casual. (If he WAS trying to come on to me, that strikes me as being a weird way to do it. I'm really turned off watching men masturbate. I prefer they do it in private.)
That's the entire story of what happened while you were at your voice lesson -- no more, no less. I can't *imagine* why he'd tell you about that. Or did he tell you something else? Anyhow, that's part of what led me to describe him as destructive and untrustworthy, and to urge you to use a condom with him. Whatever kind of arrangement you two have, I can't imagine that it includes masturbating in front of friends!
(Then she goes on about a few other things)
-Anxious
*********************
Anyway, I wrote back to her from my office yesterday morning. Here's some excerpts from that:
*********************
Hey,
When I asked you what you thought of him, I wondered if you would mention the situation. I think it's strange that not knowing what his intentions were, you said that he was
"not the slightest bit malicious. He is, however, honest -- about that everything else. He is not deceptive. He is really fond of you, but not up for a serious relationship at this moment, and he is honest about that too."
You went on to say:
"I liked him a whole lot more than I expected to, given the picture you'd painted of him. (I think, in my reckless and un-self-censoring state of mind that night, I made that quite clear to him, too! He had the graciousness not to take offense, for which I give him credit.)"
He doesn't care about people's feelings. He's strangely unempathetic but knows how to put on the right masks at the right times. I KNOW that he did the naked-masterbation thing because he likes to make people uncomfortable and wanted to watch you squirm a bit and because he wanted to laugh at both of us later. YOU didn't know that though. He thought the whole thing was really funny--pitting two friends against each other. It's a power thing. I guess I'm mad that you let him put that kind of divide between us and that you let him make me look stupid like that.
But while he thought it was funny, I can't imagine what YOU were thinking and why you didn't mention it to me! I remember when I called on my way home that day that you sounded strange on the phone and I even asked you what was going on because you were laughing nervously and kept giving me "yes" and "no" answers, yet you assured me that nothing was wrong. Why didn't you say something?
HELLO?!?!?! NARC WAS TRYING TO HUMILIATE ME.
WHY didn't you go in the other room, or tell him that he was being inappropriate or go for a walk or give me a call? Or do anything to get out of the situation? I know he's a "big guy," as you say, but I've known him for eight months and I don't think he would have attacked you and raped you if you excused yoursef. Even if you didn't want to leave (b/c I asked you not to leave him alone in my apartment), you could have said something to me right away. Instead, when I walked into the room, I was made a fool of. Why didn't you pull me aside right away and tell me that he had been inappropriate so that I could have some control of the situation? Instead, I ended up being an idiot in his stupid game, exactly like he wanted.
Also, you don't know him at all, so as far as you were concerned, he could have been sincerely coming on to you (although in a very unattractive way, I agree), but if he were hitting on you, I also should have known about it, n'est pas?
(blah, blah, blah...I'm skipping some parts here, but I basically tell her that he plays those sort of games with me non-stop and it wasn't about HER that day, but about Narc being an asshole to ME...)
He's more intentionally mean to me than he would be to anyone else, including a stranger. (Hence, why he was so nice to you, but kept dicking me around that weekend). I mean, even our conversation at Manchester pub was full of pointed hidden messages to me. (He was telling you that there's "no excuse" for a guy not to return your calls... Narc and I had been in a fight about that just two days before, and he said it to get to me, not to be nice to you.) His actions that day (and on Sunday at the bar) were all about his fucked up feelings for me. But the point is that you didn't necessarily know that, and you didn't say something either way.
It doesn't matter anymore because we're "broken up" for the forseeable future and he's a jack-ass and a bit of a misogynist all rolled up into one (just my type, right?) so there's no point in dwelling on it, but that said, it's been bothering me for a few weeks now because as friends, we HAVE to be able to trust each other, right? The incident made me feel stupid, and I feel like you should have said something as soon as I came in. I don't want to start a new fight with you or anything, but I can't understand this one.
(Then, onto the issue of my apartment:)
As for staying at my place, I suppose I can handle one to two nights max if you're really in an emergency. I don't want to be a bitch about it, and I do understand that you need the space, but I have to assert my own needs here too. I mean, if you didn't have me in the city, you would figure SOMETHING else out, so there have to be other possibilities, and I am going through a major family crisis. I just have so much pressing on me, and I don't think it's entirely fair of you to persist in asking for my help right now. That said, I'm always there for my friends at the bottom line, and if you are that desperate, I can try. Which nights were you thinking? I can try to work something out (but I can't promise).
Anyway, this email turned out much longer than expected and I'm really running late now. We can continue and figure this stuff out later.
Talk to you soon...
-Hyde
**************************
Her response to me:
Okay...this is really not cool!
This is the whole reason I didn't tell you. I did absolutely nothing wrong here, and yet you're mad at me. I worried that would happen. Look, I was a houseguest in your home. I expected to spend time with you -- not Narc. Yet I saw more of Narc than you. That's fine. But I was put into an enormously uncomfortable situation. That's not my fault. Did it ever occur to you that you might apologize to *me* for my having been in such an uncomfortable situation while a guest in your home? Nobody I wasn't dating has ever gotten naked and masturbated in front of me before, Hyde. I had no idea how to handle the situation, so I ignored it. I worried that, given the fragility of our relationship lately, you might somehow get jealous that he was coming on to me, and take it out on me. I figured I'd tell you at some point, but in person, so it wouldn't be misinterpreted and we could talk about it. It made me really, really uncomfortable. I mean, that's so far outside the bounds of what I expect to happen when I stay at a friend's house.
I don't think you should be angry at me. I know you've been going through a difficult time and I didn't want to bring up one more upsetting thing, especially a) not knowing what's going on with him and b) worried that you'd misinterpret things. You know, I could have been upset with you for leaving me alone with someone who does stuff like that. But I'm not. I figure, whatever. I had no idea he was playing mindgames or humiliating you, but to get angry with me because my silence allowed him to "win" is ridiculous, and unfair. How was I supposed to know what kind of crazy game he was playing? This whole thing is way more fucked up and complicated than I thought. I thought it was straightforward -- he was coming on to me behind your back -- and I thought if I ignored it, it would be best for everyone, and I planned to tell you at some point in person because it's kind of delicate. I had no idea he was doing it to jab at you. I had NO idea that he was setting up some sort of bizarre game where he and I were "in the know" against you.
Please! This is RIDICULOUS. Nobody I know THINKS that way. It's just nuts. But you should not allow someone so evil to come between us. I would never do anything to hurt or upset you, and I was so dumbfounded, I'm still processing it. I didn't know what the hell to think. You should be mad at him, not me. As for him not being malicious...well, now it is abundantly clear that he is. The nice things I said about him were about me trying to find something nice to say about the man you loved. Also, I only had a surface impression of him, after all. I thought he was being a horny ass, but I didn't realize how malicious he was being -- how could I?
You've known him for 8 months but didn't trust him alone in your apartment; I didn't know what you meant by that, but I figured, Hmmm, she doesn't trust him alone with her stuff! And a guy who'll masturbate in front of his girlfriend's friend, whom he just met, is so far outside the bounds of normal appropriate behavior that I was, frankly, a little nervous. I worried that he might get physical with me or try to force something and didn't want to chance it by confronting him. I think you can understand that. I mean...I just have NO experience with this kind of situation! (Thankfully.) ...
His mindgames are NOT my problem...I had no idea what was going on!
...I wanted to tell you in person because it's so easy to misinterpret tone in an e-mail. I thought we'd see each other again soon. Also, it's not as if he were your boyfriend or husband -- in that case, if you catch the guy misbehaving, the woman definitely ought to know as soon as possible. But I was under the impression that you were just fuckbuddies and he was probably sleeping with other people, as were you. But I've heard several different opinions on this kind of thing -- should you tell your friend her man is misbehaving, or not? What if she takes her anger out on you instead of him? Etc. -- so it wasn't obvious to me what I should do. Some women sincerely don't want to know. I was planning to tell you in person, though...and I certainly wasn't going to bring it up now, with all the other stress you've got going on. Okay, that's enough about Narc. I love you and don't want you to be angry at me.
As for staying at your place, I won't ask again. I don't like to be in a position where I'm begging. I always thought that would be the sort of things friends would easily do for each other, and I've rarely asked a favor. When I say there's almost nothing I wouldn't do for my friends, I mean it. If any of my friends ever needed a place to crash, my spare room would be available indefinitely. I've had many, many people offer their couches to me to stay while I job-hunt -- people I hardly know, friends of my parents, my sister, even my friends in Barcelona. You happen to be the only person in Manhattan, besides being my closest friend, so I asked you. And you had offered to let me stay for a week back in Nov. or Dec. That's why I asked now; I'm finally ready to take you up on it.
That said, I do understand what you're going through. You've got so much going on, and it's all really draining, and you can't take on anything else right now. It *would* be an imposition, so I'm not going to ask again. I don't ever want to press for a favor. That's rude. If someone kindly offers something, that's one thing. I even thought it might be a nice thing right now for you to have someone there with you. As you said, what would I do if I didn't have you? Well, of course, if I didn't have friends, I'd have to find an alternative way to do things, and I will. But I do have friends, or at least I think I have friends, so I asked my friend for a favor first. When the chips are down, you turn to your friends. If they aren't there for you, you find another solution and learn a lesson.
I do understand how horrible your situation is right now, what with your brother and your family. Look, all I've ever tried to do is be a good friend. I've never taken advantage of anyone, never betrayed anyone, never been rude to anyone. Please don't let some idiot guy come between us -- and please try to understand my situation as well. Maybe we can talk by phone? I never am able to reach you; are you ever home?
Let's talk...
-Anxious
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Now I was really pissed off! My response to her:
Anxious,
I do think it's best if we talk in person or at least on the phone. I'm spilling over with feelings right now and I don't want this email to come out wrong. But I do have to respond.
First of all, on Narc--It's not like I'm mad at you INSTEAD of him. I'm mad at both of you. And even though he called us "fuck buddies," you know that he's been someone I've been talking about for a while and someone who's played a significant role in my life. The truth of the matter is that we had been seeing each other exclusively since November and he told me that he loves me as early as late September. The details of our relationship shouldn't matter though. A guy I'm with did something sexual in your presence, and I should have known about it from you.
Obviously you're not responsible for him acting like an ass, but I strongly l think you should have said something to me straight out. Girls have to stick together. If he was "deceiving" me on any level, it's incredibly disempowering to not have that information and to not be able to make a choice about how to deal with it. I think it's just plain weird for you to have had clearly negative information about someone I'm in a relationship with and not tell me about it. Just to protect yourself from my "awful wrath?" You should know that we can talk things out no matter what. You should trust our friendship enough to believe that I know you and that I know him and I know which one of you is the asshole and which one is the long-term friend. You say you "did absolutely nothing wrong here," and I agree in terms of what went down while I wasn't there. In fact, if you had told me right away I would have been extremely apologetic to you (even though I'm not responsible for his erratic behavior). But I think it was very wrong not to tell me about it as soon as possible--as in as soon as I walked in the door that afternoon. It makes me sick to think that I was on the phone with you while he was doing that and you didn't say ANYTHING!
As for staying at my place, I think it's INCREDIBLY unfair of you to imply that I'm a bad friend for asserting myself. Well, I'm sorry for being a piece of shit. You're obviously such a superior person. After all, if any of your friends need a place, "your spare room would be available indefinitely." It's so very clear what you're implying when you say that you have so "many, many people offer their couches" to you while you job hunt, including "people you hardly know." I'm a shit friend. I'm selfish. I'm not there for those I love. I've disappointed you. Even mere acquaintences treat you better.
Well, FUCK THAT. First of all, I don't have a "spare room." My living room is my living space. Second of all, please don't insult me like that. I have always been there for those I love and I always will be. That doesn't mean that it has to come at my own expense when my brother is lying brain-dead and fighting for his life. Who's the selfish one here?
You say that you "understand what I'm going through," but you obviously have NO FUCKING CLUE what this is like. If you did, you would be asking what you can do for ME instead of asking what I can do for YOU. If you understood even a little, you certainly wouldn't imply that I'm a bad friend for needing my own space in which to cope with an excrutiating painful and difficult situation.
I really don't want to be in a fight with you. I'm willing to forget all about the Narc thing and move on because I said my bit, and I know that you heard me. I know that you weren't trying to hurt me, but I hope should this (bizarre incident) ever happen again, you would repsond differently. He's a dick and there's no point in dwelling on it. I am, however, really upset right now at the tone of your emails to me, especially in terms of the apartment thing. To tell you the truth, I can't fucking deal with this right now and you clearly have no idea what this is like for me.
That said, let's talk soon because I don't want this to fester and turn bad. I'm hard pressed for "down-time" these days, but should be home tomorrow between my class and before boxing (so from 5:00-7:00-ish). Is that a good time to talk?
Hyde
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Her response (which I read this morning):
I can't take all this fighting. I'm going through a difficult time right now and I don't like fighting. So yes, I want to talk.
(In terms of how I said she called me a bad friend, etc.): Oh, come on, I never said any of that. If I implied it I'm sorry. But I sure as heck didn't mean it to sound that way. You misunderstand -- I'm just explaining why I thought it was okay to ask. It just didn't seem like such a big deal because so many people said, "Hey, if you need a place to stay, you can crash with me/my daughter/etc. for a week." So I was just saying that to explain why I thought it wasn't that big a deal to ask. It's HARD to ask favors. I only do it when I'm desperate. Can you understand that? That's why I bent over backwards with justifications for why I thought it was okay to ask. Oh, come on. Neither of us is selfish. Just worked up.
(In terms of how I say she should be asking "what she can do for ME"): Excuse me -- but I have been all along. I've called you often to ask how you were. I've always asked if there was anything I could do. And I would do anything for you. But you don't need anything from me. You have all the emotional and financial resources you need from your family, and you've never really called on me in need. I wish you would. You would really find out how much I do care.
I didn't call you a bad friend. I'm disappointed that you can't be there for me when I need you, but I also thought I made it clear -- and if I didn't, I'm making it clear now -- that I understand why you can't. You have to take care of yourself first. Everybody does. And right now you don't have anything to offer anyone else. I do understand that. You're not a shit friend, come on.
(On Narc): Frankly, I didn't understand the situation AT ALL. I didn't understand your relationship, his intentions, any of it. There is no set rule for how to respond, and I've never been put in that situation before. I wanted to talk about it, but recall that just two days later, you started dealing with this stuff with your brother, and I had no idea you'd want to hear more bad stuff on top of that, so I figured it could wait until we saw each other. (I have to add that it was NOT just two days later, but more like 10!) Maybe we should have ground rules for what to do when the man you're seeing does something totally inappropriate. I just never dealt with a situation like that before. Some women want to know everything; others definitely prefer to turn a blind eye; and still others say they want to know, then shoot the messenger.
Hyde, you need to realize that I didn't know which category you fell into here.
Or maybe I should've just fucked him while you were at your lesson, as long as you were going to get mad at both of us.
Guess what? My life is hard too and it's been harder lately because my erstwhile best friend keeps picking fights with me. I can't deal with it either. And I realize I sounded really testy about the apartment thing. But we can talk about that tomorrow too.
It's already bad. I'm hurt and pissed off and really getting tired of people getting mad at me for what strikes me as no good reason. But let's talk tomorrow around 5. I mean, at least you're telling me you're mad at me. That's progress. E-mail exchanges like these, by the way, are EXACTLY why I was waiting to talk to you about your shit-ass boyfriend in person. Just shooting daggers back and forth really doesn't go anywhere.
-Anxious
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Well, I'm a sucker, so I wrote back a quickie:
Anxious,
I don't want to be in a fight. I don't think either of us is a bad person or a bad friend. We're both under stress and both of us are pissed off right now, but I'm sure we'll work it out. I didn't mean to "pick a fight" with you. Neither one of us is good at being totally open about our feelings so it comes out akward and harsh, but I think we'll get better at it...
I love you, okay?
Let's work it out at 5:00...
-H
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Now we'll just have to wait and see what happens...
I'll post the rest of Monday's events later. Have to get to class now...
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