We Can Never Break Up.

by theappliedprocess

“We can never break up, we can never not show, we can never go home, no, we can never elope. We’ve only got one choice, so let’s keep making it, and making it. Making it and making it.”

Back to reality. The weekend was over and the city, for the first time ever, felt slightly foreign to me. I was glad to be back, but I could’ve also stayed away a few days longer. This was definitely a first for me.

The rest of my night was pretty packed so I barely had any time to think about how I was feeling about coming back. We dropped off our bags at my apartment and, after taking half hour to chill out, feed ‘Toto’, and catch a breath, we left to go meet ‘Geordie-Mo’ with his 718 beau and ‘Jose Maria’ at Mesa Coyoacan for my dear Briton’s farewell dinner. This time, I was to accomplish the task I’d been given before but was too drunk to perform: cross examine the future ex boyfriend. The verdict? I am not so sure about this one, but whatever my friend wants, I will support.

We left dinner and headed to Metropolitan for a few more rounds of drinks. Me and ‘Nickle’ were not really feeling too much in the mood to be out, I think we were train lagged so we didn’t stay for long and instead opted to go to bed but not before the mandatory night cap pit stop at The Abbey, of course. Again, that didn’t last long either. We were home soon after.

Tuesday is beginning to be one of my favorite week days. Yes, it’s the beginning of my work week, but my work is technically closed, so while I still have to go in, it is way more relaxed than the days when we’re open. That morning, after ‘Geordie-Mo’ showed up from his crazy night of wild fun, we took the train to the city. I stopped by my job for a bit, he went to grab a drink with a friend, and then he came back a couple of hours later to snatch me up and have one last lunch. I excused myself saying I had lots of errands to run, and left for about 3 hours. We met up with ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘Nickle’ for a quick bite at Bread in Tribeca.

After lunch, I continued “running errands” and walked over to Astor Place to go shopping for stuff for the office. At around 4 pm I returned to work. The next three hours went by pretty fast. I was looking forward to getting out because I had gotten me and the boy tickets to War Horse the week before when I though I wasn’t going to be drinking. Regardless, it was a play I’d been wanting to see and I was glad to do so with my babe. They were the best $250 I’ve spent going to the theatre. During the play I got a few anxiety attacks here and there. Nothing new, it’s just exhausting.

We left Lincoln Center and walked around looking for food. We ended up at Blue Ribbon right by the Time Warner Center eating some overpriced sushi. Yes, it was good fish and the place had lots of variety, but I’ve had better. I drank some beer and sake to subdue the anxiety but it didn’t really help.

Before heading home, ‘Nickle’ suggested we stop by Town Hall, a gay bar in the Upper West Side who’s clientele includes older gentlemen and the twenty something hustlers who fancy them (or their money). I’d heard about this establishment for a while now and I’d been wanting to go check it out so I agreed to it, however, I was not in the right mindset for the evening. My scattered brain was going everywhere and what would’ve been a funny experience turned into something odd that just left a sour taste in my mouth. We left after one drink and caught a cab to Williamsburg via the Queensborough bridge.

The ride back was filled with even more anxiety that ‘Nickle’ kept trying to calm down, but was somewhat unsuccessful. To be honest, I don’t remember much, I’ve been having black outs when the attacks get really bad. Somehow we went to bed.

Wednesday morning my day started with some sexy shower time. I think my favorite part of the day is when I wake up next to ‘Nickle’ and we hit snooze like eight times before finally getting up and going. It doesn’t hurt when aside from that we have some cute little intimate moments. I left my apartment with a smile on my face only to slowly turn it into a grin because ‘BoGo’, my boss, is useless. Checking back on my notes (I keep brief phrases that remind me what I did each day), I’m not sure why I wrote that but I’m sure I had my valid reasons. Maybe it’s a sign from above telling me not to bitch about bitches, maybe it’s a sign from above showing me that I, too, am incompetent for not remembering what prompted me to write so or not being more thorough in covering all my bases.

At around 5 pm, ‘Jose Maria’ showed up since he was meeting one of his boys around the corner. I told him to wait for me as I finished so I could walk out with him. I left at around 5:15 pm and headed over to ‘Nickle’s’ work. That night we were going to go to the World Trade Center memorial. I stopped by his office and got showed off like a proud catch. It always feels nice to be given this treatment.

We walked over to the memorial. I had told work I had a doctor’s appointment, and I stupidly checked in as soon as I got to the site. The clever ‘Jose Maria’ called me to make me aware of my mistake, but I really didn’t care. I took more pictures of the massive fountains and the names in light, and posted them on Facebook. After we left, I looked for the closest doctor’s office listed on Facebook and I checked in to that as well.

I’d been talking to ‘Nickle’ about our drinking habits, and I was still a bit tender from the previous night’s anxiety monsoon. He suggested we grab some food and a beer with his friend ‘Judy’ at an Irish pub around the corner and so we did. The anxiety was still there but I was putting my best face forward. I refuse to give in to these mood swings and let them control the outcomes of my day.

Sometime during dinner, they also suggested we go to The Abbey before heading home. Because of the anxiety I felt weird about this but did not speak up. I was drifting away to wherever it is I go when I get the attacks. One thing led to the next and we actually just went home. During the subway ride, ‘Nickle’ asked me if I was ok, to which I admitted not feeling well so we just stayed in.

At my apartment, we had a somewhat significant tiff. We started talking yet again about our going out habits. I explained that I don’t mind them, except I don’t want “grabbing drinks at a bar” to be the default activity when we have no other things planned. I understand it’s very easy to go there and I usually think the same way but, like I mentioned, when I’m dating someone, I want other things. I want chill nights in to happen naturally, not to be planned.

The argument continued for a while. We didn’t go to The Abbey despite me suggesting we could. I really just wanted to go home for a second, change shoes since mine were soaked from the shit weather outside, and then I was fine with having a nightcap. At the same time, I didn’t mind staying in. Nothing beats cuddle time.

We went to bed earlyish.

Thursday morning started with more talking. I didn’t mind it because we needed to yet, at the same time, it set the mood for the day a bit off. I went to work for half the day and then I had to do an install at British Airways. I was there for longer than expected. The plan was for ‘Nickle’ to come home (to mine) after work, make some dinner for us, and be waiting for me with a hot plate ready. Of course we were both busier than expected since we had a lot to accomplish before we left midweek for the holidays and that didn’t happen.

Instead, we both got off at around 9 or 10 pm and we met for dinner at Republic right by Union Square. I knew from the moment I kissed him hello that something was still off. He knew I knew. We didn’t address the weird aura and just ate our noodles while making small talk.

We were both really tired so we headed home right after. I am not sure exactly when or how it started, I think we had two or three beers before bed, but he began talking about how he wants to go home sometimes. I hadn’t been ok for the past few days and this kind of set me off again. We talked and talked about our relationship and where it’s going. We talked about me freaking out about our drinking. We talked about living together. We talked about how much time we spend with each other. We talked about everything and anything and nothing at all. It was all very repetitive and somewhat stressful. I didn’t take it well, and consequentially, neither did he. He went into frustration mode, which I’ve only experienced once before, and scared me even more when I could tell he was thinking of leaving that night. I somehow came back from my drift and talked some sense into our tiff. We stopped and fooled around and I swallowed for the first time ever. My anxiety levels were still off the charts, but somehow we managed to fall asleep and stop the bickering.

In retrospect, the argument we had that night was weird. I see his point about wanting some time alone. I agree, it’s just that at the point when he said it, I wasn’t ready to hear it. I’ve  thought from the beginning of this relationship that things were going too fast. He was going too fast. Yet I decided to not over think it and just go with it. I also thought a lot about the day when one of us would be the one to put the brakes, I wasn’t sure who was going to be the first, but I was terrified he was going to beat me to the punch. All in all, I just had too many mixed feelings and that, along with the higher than usual anxiety levels I’d been having, had me in a very delicate place.

Friday morning we talked a bit more. I didn’t feel reassured. He left for work and I was left with even more anxiety. I randomly skyped with a friend from abroad who I hadn’t seen in a while. I mentioned I might be coming to Europe in February, to which he asked if there’d be any sexy time between us (we fooled around once). I told him that was out of the question, obviously, because of ‘Nickle’. It felt good to say that. It was a bit comforting to know that I am with someone that I love so much that I have no eyes for anyone else. I took a shower and went into an even deeper anxiety hole. As I’m typing right now and reading my notes, they don’t make much sense but the word “fuck” is written quite a few times.

Luckily, I mustered enough sanity to decide to bike to work. The exercise would probably help me get out of the funk I was in, and so I did. I put on my music and rode over the bridge and up to the British Airways headquarters in Midtown. I still had a lot of work to do.

To say that I was a complete mess all that day is an understatement. I was nowhere near fine and, judging by ‘Nickle’s Facebook updates, neither was my boyfriend. He had made plans for drinks with friends after work and invited me. I replied saying that I might not be able to meet up as I felt nowhere near sane enough to be around people. After a few texts back and forth we decided to spend the night together. I told him I was fine with drinks, I certainly needed one, but I wanted to see him before for dinner so we could talk a bit more before we had any alcohol in our blood stream.

I rushed the install at British Airways and left at around 6 pm. We met on the corner of 2nd and 9th in the East Village and walked over to Plum for some pizza. We talked and talked and talked till he made us stop at the right moment. His eyes were teary and he screamed ‘I love you’ in the middle of the restaurant. That was exactly what I needed. We finished eating and met the rest of the crowd  at Sola’s for happy hour.

The remainder of the night was significantly better. I was out of my A-hole, and I was ready to relax and have some fun. We got drunk and ended up at The Abbey before going home to sleep.

For as much as I bitch about our drinking, it felt great to have some normalcy. I wish I could explain why I think the way I think or where it is I go sometimes, and it’s terrifying not being able to do so. I am constantly at fear of losing my man because of how insane I get and, although he’s constantly told me he doesn’t mind my insanity, I can’t help but worry. I will say, tho, that till I find a way to control the anxiety, I’m willing to fight the good fight every day, one day at a time.

“You’re like a test I can’t fuck up. You’re like a song in my head, like a la la la la la like a dream. Don’t wake me up and if I never see the light again. Well I guess they put me in the ground with this smile on my head, my love. My love”