‘BoGo’ | the.applied.process.

17.12.2011

All I Want For Christmas Is You.

“I don’t need to hang my stocking there upon the fireplace. Santa Claus won’t make me happy with a toy on Christmas Day.”

Before you even think on judging hear me out. The holidays have started. Yes, I’m big into this time of year. You name it, if it annoys you, I probably love it. I apologize for the song, but yes, I found it fitting for this entry because guess what? With the holidays approaching, the first two or three weeks of December turn into a clusterfuck of holiday parties. I don’t mean to brag but I swear! I get invited to plenty, and now that I’m no longer single, the number of e-vites just doubled. Yes, at least three things to do per night and, although I can’t say I don’t enjoy them, there are days when all I really want for Christmas is to stay home with ‘Nickle’ and ignore the rest of the world.

With that said… let the retelling of the first of two weeks of jam packed holiday goodness begin.

Mondays are my day off. Last Monday, I woke up next to ‘Nickle’ a bit exhausted from the biking and the anxiety that happened the day before. He went to work and I just laid on the couch with ‘Toto’ catching up on past episodes of my TV shows, in this case Gossip Girl. I went through 2 or 3 of them before deciding it was time to get up and maybe clean. That didn’t happen. I dilly dallied for most of the morning till a bit of anxiety started to kick in and I went into “get shit done” mode. I had a lot of paperwork to do for some personal governmental purposes and, obviously, it was the kind of stuff you postpone over and over because it’s rarely fun and never exciting.

The anxiety continued through the rest of the day. That night ‘Martha’ had invited us to the Martha Stewart holiday party, and I was to meet all of them somewhere on the west side at the studios where the magic happens. At around 5pm I left for Kinko’s (FedEx Office for my readers born on the subsequent generations after mine) to continue working on boring stuff before taking a cab to Chelsea.

I got to M. Diddy’s headquarters a few minutes before ‘Nickle’ and waited for him and ‘Judy’ to show up. After spending a good 15 minutes figuring out the very confusing elevator system, we finally made it to the party. We were greeted with lots of hors d’oeuvres and wine which I proceeded to chug to try and calm down. Didn’t work. We checked out all the different craft and cookie tables (it’s a Martha Stewart party, what do you expect?!) and danced with the etsy loving gays and gals till we decided to leave for a bar.

We all walked over to Billymark’s West for a game of pool (which I lost), and a few rounds of beers. It wasn’t a big crazy night. We walked towards Times Square to catch the trains back to Brooklyn with ‘Judy’ but made a pit stop at Chipotle for another beer and a delicious burrito which I didn’t really enjoy because the whole time I had something in the back of my head I wanted to talk about. The funny thing is: I always do. I think. I think. I think. Sometimes, I stop myself from externalizing whatever nonsense is going on in my head. Sometimes it just slips out.

After we switched trains and left ‘Judy’ I brought it up. I mentioned how it’s a bit off putting how I feel like I’m not just dating ‘Nickle’ sometimes, but I’m also dating his best friend, ‘Seek’. He is constantly talking and thinking about him to an almost excessive point? The conversation didn’t go too well. We were a bit drunk and as soon as we got off the train I shut down and so did he. He was about to walk away and go to a bar to drink when I stopped him and told him not to. I’ve constantly said that I hate leaving an argument in the middle, especially when there’s alcohol involved so, at the risk of running around in circles (which I often do), I like to talk about it till we reach some sort of armistice.

And so we did. I dragged him back to my apartment and we talked and talked. I understood how he feels about his friendship and it’s never been an issue of me thinking that he likes him in any other way other than friends, and he understood how to third parties it does look a bit obsessive sometimes. He also pointed out that sometimes I just need to stop over thinking things and let arguments go because I tend to talk things over and over to the point where I forget what it is that I was arguing about in the first place. With that being said, we went to bed in a happy place.

Tuesday morning, we woke up in an even happier place. Yes, we had AM sex, something we are both very into and try and sneak in every day we can. We showered and he left for work. I continued with the tedious task of gathering paperwork for my future governmental endeavors. I had to work but I called in late pretending I had errands to run. Instead, I met him for lunch at a noodle place in Chinatown, and we did some x-mas shopping for our upcoming party: OUR first official tree-trimming soiree as a couple.

We probably spent about 2 hours together. Both of us were running late but I’m pretty certain none of that matters to him, because I was feeling so good that it didn’t matter to me either. It’s moments like this when everything just seems so aligned and it just fits perfectly that I try to hold on when the anxiety of uncertainty comes along (I know I’m happy, I just don’t know why I get so irrational sometimes).

We finally parted ways when we realized that man can’t live on love alone, and thus we must tend to our jobs, even if it’s the last thing we wanted to do at the moment. Emotional blue balls.

As expected, work was a burden. I was still and am still not meshing with the retard I’ve been assigned as my boss. I cringe at the thought of seeing her badly coordinated synthetic outfits with payless square toe flats (hence her nickname ‘BoGo’). I dread the moment when her passive aggressive shrieks hit my ear drums to utter orders that she should be taking care of if she wasn’t so incompetent. I quiver in fear at the fact that I’m afraid I will be turned into stone at the first glance of her medusa-esque beauty. I…

Enough. You get the point.

I endured the grueling half day and finally, at around 7pm left to go play trivia with the Tuesday trivia crew. ‘Nickle’ and ‘Jose Maria’ joined. We were a pretty decent group of people yet, sadly, we lost this time. I was a bit drunk and, although ‘Nickle’ suggested we just go home, I for some reason suggested we go to The Seahorse Tavern to hang out a bit more with ‘Jose Maria’ since I know we don’t do much of that lately. Of course this entailed having a few shots despite saying we weren’t going to, and having two or three drinks too many.

I blacked out towards the end of the night. We took a cab back to Brooklyn and, per my suggestion, we spent the night at our summer place (his apartment). Before heading to bed, we stopped at a deli because ‘Nickle’ wanted to buy more beer. Apparently I made a bit of a fuzz about it. It doesn’t surprise me… that’s me being irrational again. *Sigh* I passed out shortly after.

Wednesday ensued more morning sexy time. After he showered and I napped for a second longer, we both recognized that we were dealing with quite the hang over and neither of us wanted to really do anything productive. He emailed work to let them know he was running late, I didn’t have to be in till noon. We left his apartment and walked to a discount store to buy more stuff for the party (side note: I’m going to discount stores, and actually enjoying it!). We then walked to a doughnut shop on Manhattan Ave and, instead of having them to go, we sat on the counter, ordered one each, and carelessly sipped on a cup of coffee. Yes, lazy and full of excuses not to properly start the day. We then strolled our way from Greenpoint to Williamsburg to go to his client’s townhouse where he was to pick up a check that was not there. Lastly, instead of parting ways and going in opposite directions, he decided to follow me back to my place and take the L instead of the JMZ. We finally came to terms with the fact that we needed to face reality and we kissed goodbye outside my door. He took the train, I went upstairs.

I got ready, called work to let them know I was going to run some work related (as well as personal) errands and thus would be a bit late, and left my apartment. Post office, bank, pharmacy, work. Upon arrival, I had a bit of my usual freak outs which made me not want to do anything productive. The unpleasing thought of sharing oxygen with ‘BoGo’ doesn’t help. I sucked it up and sat at my desk staring at facebook for a bit. I crafted the invite to our x-mas party and sent it out. I left work for a second pretending I had an errand to run, but really I just didn’t want to hear ‘BoGo’s’ voice. It really is like nails on a chalk board. I freaked out again and waited till it was time to leave.

At 6:30 I mentioned to my coworker that I might leave a tad early since I had a birthday party to attend which was starting earlier than expected. That was a lie. ‘Nickle’ had just asked me to leave a few minutes before so we could head to Solas to meet a friend of his before heading to said party. I really left just 15 minutes before I normally do.

We walked over to the bar. Two shots, two beers. Then we walked over to the other bar for the birthday celebration. More shots, more beers, fried chicken (in ‘Nickle’s’ case), two dollar slices (for me). Being the holiday season, we had another party to attend so we said our goodbyes and headed over to Williamsburg where we ended up at The Abbey. The place was packed! More shots, more beers. So much for wanting to slow down on the latter.

About an hour later, we decided to call it a night. We weren’t terribly wasted, and it was a good time to hit the sac before things started to get the almost nightly blurry. Good call. It wasn’t the early night we needed but it was earlyish.

Thursday morning blowjobs were followed by the usual: a shower, my babe going to work, and me trying to decide how I’m going to procrastinate through the first hour when I should be either A) sleeping, or B) doing something productive like writing on the blog or finishing the paperwork that’s kind of due. My solution was to catch up on “How I Met Your Mother”. Maybe not the most productive, but somewhat necessary to appease the OCD thoughts I get when I realize I’m behind on my shows.

Instead of really watching, I passed out. I guess I really needed the rest. I woke up in time to get dressed and go to work. More anxiety followed by a strange calmness and the feeling of love radiating from an Architectural firm somewhere in TriBeCa to a Gallery somewhere in SoHo. For reasons I can’t explain, I’m always perplexed at ‘Nickle’s’ timing. It’s like we’re twins and he knows when exactly to text/message/email/say the right thing.

I left work right at 7pm to head over to a Charity Holiday Auction at ‘Clive’s’ work. ‘Nickle’ joined shortly after. We hung out for an hour and a half, drank two or three beers, and bid on some prints that for some reason were deemed unbidable (to me they were some of the best ones). Consequently, we won them with minimal economical damage.

We left the auction to head over to ‘Martha’s’ for UNO night, a tradition amongst ‘Nickle’ and Co. There’s really not much to say about this. I was enduring a good session of anxiety that I was trying to drown out with more beer but was not doing very well. I love all his friends and all I want is to just enjoy the moment as much as I should be. Easier said than done. *it’s going to be ok, it’s going to be ok*.

Our holiday party extravaganza had a couple more stops lined up so we left the girls’ and took a very sexually stimulating cab ride to Ten Degrees to meet ‘Jose Maria’. I ripped a big hole in the front of my pants.

We barely even finished a drink at the bar when we decided to leave for the second to last stop. We took another cab ride to Williamsburg. This time, instead of pleasing each other orally, we used our mouths to talk about other guys in our lives and what we want. Again, we kind of went around in circles. We both want the same thing, yet sometimes we feel like the other one doesn’t. We dropped the subject and stopped by South 4th for their 5th anniversary party. ‘Fixie’ and ‘Viquers’ were going to meet us there but they had texted saying the crowd was a bit off putting and had left to Lucky Dog. Regardless, we paid our dues by having a shot and a beer before walking to the last leg of the busy night.

I hadn’t been to Luck Dog in a hot minute. Right before going we made a pit stop to pick up the check ‘Nickle’ was promised a few days earlier. I was pretty drunk by this point and, although I don’t remember going to bed, I do remember having a couple more shots and a couple more beers with ‘Fixie’, ‘Viquers’, and ‘Fixie’s’ fix for the night.

Friday was yet another pivotal day in my search for the source of my anxiety. I don’t have many notes on what I did so I’m assuming there was no sexy time. The morning must have been very ordinary.

At work, I was again looking forward to 4:45 pm because I was going to leave early to go see, per my shrink’s suggestion, a psychiatrist. Yes, I’ve been considering meds because, although I’m very adamantly against them, it’s getting to the point where I want to improve my quality of life and nothing else seems to be working. Alcohol, no alcohol, cigarettes, no cigarettes, boyfriend, no boyfriend, good job, bad job, I’m still having anxiety all day round.

As soon as the hands on the clock were pointing at the right numbers I left work without a single care. My coworker had a work related event she needed to attend and could not stay till close, and the lovely ‘BoGo’ was just too fuckin’ lazy to stay by herself so we closed early.

I got to the doctor’s office right on time. He invited me in and went through the usual first time visit Q & A’s. I talked freely and openly about my feelings, my thoughts, my concerns, and my expectations. After an hour and fifteen he diagnosed me with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder which is a way in which Anxiety can manifest itself. The more I think about it (and that’s what we OCD people do, we think and think), the more I agree. His solution was for me to go on Prozac.

I left the office pumped and ready to numb my racing mind away every morning by taking a pill. I took the train down to TriBeCa to meet ‘Nickle’ and tell him about the magic cure I just discovered. He, of course, acted supportive. We walked over to another one of his friend’s Holiday Auction party. We stayed for two beers’ time and saw some quasi decent student work before saying goodbye and heading to ‘Jose Maria’s’ event. He was somewhere in Bushwick hosting a short film festival. The event went great, we got to see a lot of familiar faces, drink some more beer, freak out about irrelevant things, I showed off my prescription to my somewhat disapproving friends, and left after about an hour. We still had one more leg on the tour.

Last but not least, ‘Fixie’, ‘Nickle’, and I went to another Holiday party hosted by one of the bartenders at The Abbey. At the risk of sounding repetitive, more drinks ensued which meant that ‘Nickle’ and I were even more drunk. Eventually we finally decided to cab it home. ‘Fixie’ stayed back socializing which I was happy for because I like that our group of friends is starting to intertwine quite a lot.

We woke up kind of early on Saturday. I decided to make us soyrizo scramble for breakfast since we had some food to get rid off before it spoiled. We finished our breaky and headed for beddy to have our almost ritualistic morning sexy time. We came, I showered, and I left for work. ‘Nickle’ stayed home running errands and getting things ready for our Holiday Party later that evening.

I was a bit antsy the whole time. It surely didn’t help that ‘BoGo’ had decided to host her friend’s Hip Hop Event which, to my taste, was a terrible idea. I don’t like the image this woman is giving my job and I do not agree with any of her aesthetics, from the way she dresses to the plans she has in the future for the business. I was very uncomfortably and purposely avoiding everyone. I just wanted to leave and go home and help. I kept trying to come up with excuses to take off till it dawned on me that I’d just leave to go run an errand that everybody, including me, had been dreading for quite a while. Regardless, it was the perfect excuse. At 5:30pm I left claiming I needed to run said errand before the place closed at 6pm (actual business hours? they were open till 8pm).

I took the F train to Downtown Brooklyn, completed the task in less than half hour, took the G to Lorimer and walked home. I was still a bit anxious, but the thought of coming home calmed me down a bit. I helped out for a second, took a sexy shower with my sexy man, and halted the sexiness just as we were informed that guests were arriving. We quickly got dressed and turned on the show.

The party was an absolute success! I was really pleased with it. It was a good mix of people, the tree got decorated, and everyone seemed to have a great time. At around 1pm, and after drinking whiskey, beer, champagne, and vodka, I was clearly in no condition to go out. Everybody wanted to head to The Abbey. I apparently didn’t at first but then got convinced to, and just as ‘Nickle’ realized that I was having issues trying to get dressed he decided we’d just stay in. We let everyone leave, got naked on the couch, and passed out in my bed.

At around 4:40 in the morning, we got woken up by one of the party attendees who had somehow lost track of the rest of the group and was stranded sans wallet, keys, or cellphone. We instructed him to stay for a few hours as we contacted his boyfriend and waited for the respond. He obliged and we went back to bed.

Sunday morning we picked up the pieces. We finally solved the mystery of our lost guest and helped him get back on his way home by getting him a coffee and a metro card. We went back to my apartment to clean up the less-crazy-than-expected mess and then we had a rewarding fellatio affair. A shower followed, and then we met up with ‘Occhio’ for brunch at La Esquina Brooklyn (I wasn’t aware that the SoHo Mexican eatery had a sister shop on my side of the river). The food was sub-par, and so was the service. They screwed up my order and took forever to replace it. Regardless, the bloody maria I had redeemed the whole experience.

We walked back home, sent ‘Occhio’ on his way, and picked up our bikes to ride to my babe’s. From there, we made plans with ‘Clive’ and ‘Gwen’ to go to The Museum of The Moving Image in the somewhat dreaded Astoria to see the Jim Henson exhibit. The reason why I point out that it is a somewhat dreaded area is because that’s where ‘Nickle’s’ ex lives and, just like I feel in some neighborhoods of LA, it is never pleasant to go back to places that are so loaded with memories. We biked past familiar blocks and to the museum where we decided to stop talking about it and just enjoy the day. We were about to make new memories.

The exhibit was really fun and educational. There were many things about Jim Henson I did not know, and although it seemed a bit low budget, it was still something worth checking out. It’s on display till the 16th next month.

After walking around the exhibit, we were supposed to go bike to Bay Ridge to see the Christmas light decorations, but we decided to stay in the museum to check out the other floors. The place is incredibly fun and interactive. We did some flip books of us acting silly, filmed a stop motion animation, and recorded our own sounds on different movie clips. All in all, we spent like 4 hours at the museum working out a decent appetite.

At the risk of bringing back more memories, we chose to head over to Broadway around the 30’s to find one of the many famed Greek restaurants to eat some dinner. We ended up at a place called Uncle George’s which was, again, lacking in service. Two for two for the boyfriend at picking places with rude staff. The food, however, was better this time around. I ordered some shrimp kebabs and the rest of the table ordered meat. We asked for a pitcher of wine which ‘Nickle’ and I were both gulping down at a pretty fast pace. I could sense he was a bit scattered brain and frantic, and I was getting a bit antsy too. I did, however, manage to keep it together in case my babe would need me (something which he wouldn’t necessarily easily admit).

Towards the end of the meal, and with a few glasses of vino rushing through our blood stream, we both calmed down. We left the place and walked a couple of blocks to a little pastry shop where we got some coffee and some Greek sweets.

We bid my favorite double dating couple adieu and walked back towards our bikes. I brought up the fact that I noticed ‘Nickle’ acting a bit strange but he denied it. I let it go and we biked home.

We were supposed to go to another Holiday party that night and were debating whether we thought it was a good idea or not. Eventually we decided to head over for just one beer. Right… Why do we keep trying to kid ourselves? We hopped our way to the G train and headed south to the Myrtle stop. We then walked a few blocks east to the party as we discussed our future and joked about our bad financial habits. Bushwick still scares me.

The party was cute. We drank a beer and some cider which in terms made us join in on the shots and a six pack more. We made some cute snowflakes (I made the best), chit chatted with people and after 2 hours headed home with a nice buzz. I was a bit anxious but I shut up and kept talking myself out of my irrationality. We walked over to a car service dispatcher, got on a towncar, and ended up back at my place where we had a small talk about our exes before finally catching some much needed ZzZz’s.

First week of the holiday party season over and done. It was fun but very exhausting. It’s also been a very educating week. I’ve learned that we are both humans, and as humans we both bleed when we get cut. I forget that he, too, is just like me in many aspects. We are both insecure. We are both afraid. We are both emotional. We are both our own worse enemy inside our head. As much as I sometimes think he seems invincible, he is not and neither am I, and this anxiety is a killer. I enjoy pushing myself yet I do see how sometimes I need to slow down and take a break. On that note, I’m looking forward to the next couple of days. We’ve decided it’s just gonna be us, quiet nights, and some much needed night time sexy time.

“I just want you for my own more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true: All I want for Christmas is you! You baby!”

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30.11.2011

Unison

“I thrive best hermit style with a beard and a pipe and a parrot on each side but now I can’t do this without you.”

Recently, ‘Bogo’ asked me if I’d like to work Monday to Fridays instead of Tuesdays to Saturdays. I have been running the pro’s and con’s of her suggestion over and over in my head and I still can’t figure out what I want to do. It’d be a great way of having a more “normal” schedule and having more weekend time with ‘Nickle’, or other friends, yet at the same time I really like working Saturdays. I like seeing ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ and my other coworker. I like being there half the weekend. I like having Mondays off so I can do whatever errands need to be accomplished and actually have the day to myself since ‘Nickle’ is at work, and the rest of the city is functioning at full speed. Still undecided, I told her I’d give it a try starting the next year.

The third Saturday of November I went to work as usual. I didn’t really want to be there and although I could’ve taken the day off, I decided not to. I did, however, leave early so I could meet ‘Nickle’, ‘Fixie’, and ‘Martha’ at my place to begin what was about to be a crazy night, it was The Abbey’s 14 year anniversary, and also one of my babe’s friend’s birthdays.

I got home before 6 pm and cleaned up a bit as I waited for my friends to arrive. The first one to come was ‘Martha’, we walked ‘Toto’ around the block for a bit, and then ‘Nickle’ showed up. We headed to The Abbey to commence the long night of drinking. I wanted to eat but I waited since I was promised there’d be good food at the bar. As expected, we started imbibing steady and heavily. Food did come after about 3 shot and beer combos, and I quickly proceeded to neutralize the alcohol with some substantial nutrients. It definitely helped. The night was off to a great start.

We stayed at The Abbey for longer than expected. A lot more friends ended up showing up. ‘Viquers’ and ‘Fixie’ had said they’d only come out for a bit but, after the alcohol kicked in, ‘Fixie’ was ready to rage. He texted asking me to help him sneak away from ‘Viquers’ who was sort of on baby sitting duty. Me and ‘Nickle’ went to the bodega on the corner to buy “cigarettes” and then told him to come meet us at mine with the excuse that he was picking up keys to stay there later. I told him to get in a cab with ‘Nickle’ and wait for me in the corner as I went back to The Abbey to explain to ‘Viquers’ that, because of the medication he was taking, he was loopy and passed out almost instantly. She believed my lie.

At around 10:30 pm we finally made it on our way to Park Slope for the remainder of the night.

The second leg of the evening was just as fun and just as drunk. I’d be lying if I tried to retell everything that happened. I was pretty forgetful by that point, but I do remember dancing to some sort of Latino music with one of the guys who lived in the apartment who was dressed as a Mariachi. I was also told me and ‘Nickle’ were making out profusely after we pranced around with different wigs, and we ended up drinking just like the Friday night before Montauk.

Sunday morning I was reminded I apparently got really drunk, a bit emotional, and blacked out. No harm done tho.

After the recap, we walked ‘Toto’, picked up some coffee, and took a shower/fooled around as ‘Fixie’ slept in the living room. We then all went for brunch across the street at El Almacen, an Argentinian restaurant with amazing lobster tacos and a dulce de leche french toast that I’d be willing to get a couple of cavities for. We nursed our hang overs with some margaritas and fernet.

For the rest of the day, we all had bike rides to accomplish. ‘Fixie’s’ included a date, and we had a very long one all around Brooklyn.

The first stop of the trip was at ‘Nickle’s’. We shared a coffee and donuts in his deck, picked up some stuff needed for the day, and rode bikes back past my place and to bedstuy. The second stop involved picking up some of his stuff his friend had borrowed a while ago and had left at another friend’s apartment. We didn’t stay for long, we still had a full day so we asked our hosts to come join us for dinner but, since they weren’t in the mood for it, we went our separate ways.

We rode over to ‘Judy’s’ apartment a short 5-10 minutes away. She’d just moved to a place off the Nostrand A train and had invited us to check it out. The apartment, sitting on the top story of a brownstone, was one to envy. For a second, it made me think of my future and where I’d want to live with ‘Nickle’, what I’m willing to sacrifice, and when did my convictions begun to change so drastically. My stomach made a growling sound and pinched me back to reality. We were hungry and we left to get some food.

I was having a bit of anxiety, nothing different from the usual. I kept trying to control it as we walked for 15 minutes to an Indian restaurant further into Brooklyn. The food was appropriate. I hadn’t ventured to eat Indian in a while because I was still holding on to the one time I was in Birmingham at ‘Capital-G’s’ mom’s place eating the most delicious home made Indian dishes I’ve ever had. Regardless, like much of the other things in my life, I decided to not be afraid and just give it a try.

After dinner, we walked ‘Judy’ back to her apartment and we got our bikes to continue on the last lap of the tour de Brooklyn. We biked south to south slope to ‘Ceviche Mama’s’ friend’s place to pick up a much craved transamerican soyrizo. I had been wanting to make my famous soyrizo scramble for breakfast for my baby but had not been lucky in finding the specific brand I was looking for. After a bit of research I realized they don’t even sell in New York State, so I placed an order on Facebook, and my dear friend responded to my plea.

I stuffed the two vegan sausages down my chest and we finished the cycle by cycling back to my apartment to feed ‘Toto’, and then to ‘Nickle’s’ apartment. We watched a few episodes of Lisa Kudrow’s canceled faux docu-sitcom “The Comeback” (which if you haven’t watched yet, please do… it’s a must), fooled around for a bit, and went to sleep. It felt incredibly nice to sleep at his place.

Monday morning we did a bit more of fooling around. He always suggests I stay sleeping but, even though I do feel at home when I’m at his place, I don’t like being there without him. Not yet, at least. We biked back to my apartment and his subway stop.

As soon as I got home, I showered quickly, fed my dog again, and headed in to the city. My friend ‘Martha’ had gotten me and ‘Jose Maria’ tickets to MARTHA (the show). I was excited to see the queen of home media in the flesh so I dressed according to the strict dress code I was emailed (“Martha loves bright colors” it said), put on the happiest fake smile I could, and waited in line amidst a few hundred midwest moms, a couple of craft loving gays, and a very moody and hung over ‘Jose Maria’.

After a long two hour wait, we were seated a few feet from where she would be making cookies (it was the beginning of cookie week), and I was getting a bit nervous. A few minutes later, she walked on stage looking overpoweringly robotic. From then on, every thing seemed orchestrated with extraordinary precision. I could tell that this woman is where she is because of who she is, and she knows it. The guests and the audience all moved to her subtle commands disguised under her charming persona. It was hard to take my eyes away from her presence, and kind of impossible to believe that this tender woman in a meticulously picked out outfit, has been to jail and back. At the same time, I could totally picture her being the matriarch of her fellow female inmates. I loved every single second of the hour and a half we were there. We left the show with a cookie gun, and a clay stamp.

At around 4 pm, I dragged ‘Jose Maria’ with me to run a few errands, we had lunch at Dos Toros near Union Square, and then a couple of drinks at Park Bar. I was still feeling anxiety and the alcohol wasn’t helping. We left the bar when he needed to go meet another one of his friends, and I walked to the theatre by myself to see a movie as I waited for ‘Nickle’ to get off work.

The anxiety got pretty bad and I passed out in the theatres. I woke up 90 minutes later to the last 15 minutes of The Immortals which I didn’t bother to watch because I had missed the whole movie. I left and walked over to whole foods to get some stuff to make food with my babe.

I met him outside the grocery store and we took the train home together.

That night, he cooked us dinner, I had a bit of anxiety, we took a shower, fooled around for a bit, and passed out with each other’s lips interlocked. It was one of the sweetest things that I have ever felt. I woke up a few hours later to a hand full of dried cum. I had another anxiety attack and finally passed out for the rest of the night.

Tuesday morning did not start good. I had a weird dream about my dad being diagnosed with liver cancer that set my anxiety off very early. My babe calmed me down and I got a hold of myself. I had promised him to make us breakfast with the soyrizo we had picked up so I got off bed and made us my famous scramble. We enjoyed a breakfast together, he left for work and I passed out again. I had another bad dream about me talking to my dad and telling him about my anxiety. I woke up to a bad fit, and texted ‘Nickle’ for some help. Again, he calmed me down.

A few minutes later, I finally mustered up the energy to take a shower and went to work. The day was weird and I was not feeling good at all. I am not really sure what happened the rest of the day other than I think we were drunk and I was trying to tell ‘Nickle’ we should stay at his place so he could make a bag for our Thanksgiving trip, but he insisted he would make do with what he had at my place so we didn’t go to his. Other than that, nothing comes to mind. I am sure it’s more of the usual, but I do know that the anxiety has been bad to the point where I go through periods without remembering what’s happening. I’m scared.

“I never thought I would compromise. Let’s unite tonight. We shouldn’t fight. Embrace you tight. Let’s unite tonight.”

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25.11.2011

We Can Never Break Up.

“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”

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17.11.2011

Belong.

“Let me see who you are, don’t try to hide the world that you belong. Let me see who you are, you’re better off where you started from.”

I self medicate. Yes, my go-to cure to my daily anxiety episodes is alcohol. I don’t expect to be understood, we all have our poisons. I do, however, expect not to be judged, because I rarely do so in return.

Tuesday I woke up sober. I was still a bit off from the mental state I was in the prior night. As usual, I felt embarrassed, confused, and stupid. A kiss or ten from my boyfriend helped it go away momentarily. I started to feel better and after going through my usual morning routine, I decided to bike to work.

I jumped on Bat Wing, the nickname ‘Nickle’ has donned for my bicycle, set google music on my phone, and started my morning commute. The weather was perfect. Not too hot, not too cold. An appropriate breeze kept my body temperature at a comfortable point where I wasn’t sweating nor was I cold. I took on the Williamsburg bridge head first and just as I started to feel the burn of the incline on my thighs, Madonna’s “I Love New York” started serenading my eardrums. I went on a state of trance that was only augmented by the fact that the Manhattan skyline looked as beautiful as it’s ever looked under the early November sunlight. “What lactic acid!?” I thought as I kept pedaling. I reached the top of the bridge in a record time and the cruised downhill enjoying some other Madonna hymn until I arrived at my destination.

The day was slow, as it usually is on a Tuesday. I took the time to call my dad and talk to him about my medication and the side effects I’ve been experiencing. Being one who does not believe in over-prescribing or excessively invasive antidotes, he suggested I stop and continue with the rest of the less sever treatment. To be honest, I didn’t know what to do. A part of me wanted to run to the nearest bar and have a cocktail, but another part was glad to be going through such a challenging experience and somewhat succeeding, despite being a mental wreck. I also wanted to continue having ‘Nickle’s’ support because I knew that in the end it would be good for him too.

That night, we had plans to go to Solas for some bar tending event. My boyfriend, however, suggested we skip it since I wasn’t suppose to drink, and instead we go for a quite night. Again, despite craving the sweet numbness alcohol brings, I concluded that if I’d already been a week without drinking (as heavily as I normally do), I could do it one more day. After work, we met at the bottom of the Williamsburg bridge, and biked back together.

Right before getting home, we made a pit stop at a small grocery shop and purchased the necessary ingredients for a home cooked meal. The menu: spinach farfalle with a potpourri of mushrooms and some olive oil, and a salad with a pre-bought balsamic vinaigrette. No wine. Dinner was followed by Paris is Burning, a documentary about a group of African American and Latino gay men who are part of the late 80’s ball culture in New York City. It was entertaining, inspirational, and educational. I made it through the whole movie without my customary mini doze off and we went to bed promptly after, completely sober.

Wednesday morning I woke up sober, again, but for the last time in a while. I rushed to work because I had a long day ahead. My new boss, ‘BoGo’, who replaced ‘The Cock of the North’, emailed me early morning saying she was running a bit late because she was moving out of her old office and bringing some stuff we “needed” over. I honestly didn’t care, she’s not much help anyway.

**Disclaimer: When I first started this blog I said I wasn’t going to talk shit about people and I was just going to be honest. Brutally honest, that is. I feel like I’ve grown soft. This morning, I’ve been in a very odd mood. I had a very severe and long anxiety moment last night and I am not feeling like I’ve been recently. The old, more caustic me has resurfaced and I’m happy to let him parade around for a second. That being said, I will be brash and unapologetic, and let myself write as I see things trying to remove the filters I’ve been developing lately.**

Back to the topic. I was at work planning for the night’s event with still a very long list of to-do’s. I started early, and started hard. I emailed ‘The Cock of the North’ the night before asking for some guidance in this, my first event completely without his presence. He, of course, came to my aid thoroughly. I was ready for war and I had my armor and my small battalion of three interns (the good, the bad, and the useless) with me. The list of chores was slowly but surely getting accomplished. My dear ‘BoGo’ showed up an hour and a half before the event was to start with a few unnecessary items she deemed important enough to go get from her old office earlier that day instead of helping out. To be honest, I truly believe she is not as competent as she presented herself to be before getting the job, and thus chooses “flight” over “fight” when overwhelmed. More examples to support my allegations will follow in this and the next entries.

I politely acknowledged her presence, but did not take the time to make her feel like I was glad she was there. One of the things I adored about working for ‘The Cock of the North’ was that he had no qualms with doing whatever was necessary to get the job done, from sweeping the floors, to more complex tasks, he did it all, and I respect that. Furthermore, today I rediscovered how hard it is to work for someone you don’t respect.

The event ended up being a success. A lot of familiar faces turned up. Sadly, ‘Nickle’ was stuck in traffic and could not make it, but a few of his friends did, and they congratulated me on my very first soiree sans ‘The Cock of the North’. I felt like all my blood and sweat were worth it.

We left the event a bit after close and I walked with ‘Jose Maria’, ‘The Lady of Derbishire’, ‘Occhio’, and ‘Martha’ (one of ‘Nickle’s’ friends) to Tartinery on Spring and Mulberry. I was texting with my lover about him meeting us there after he dropped off the keys to my place at The Abbey so that my dear friend ‘Geordie-Mo’, who was arriving in to town from London, could pick them up, drop his bags, and meet us all out and about. I am not quite certain when or where things took a turn, but ‘Nickle’ ended up not coming to dinner. Instead, he said he’d meet us after for drinks.

After dinner, we opted to walk to Phoenix because the plan was to meet ‘Geordie-Mo’ at “The Church” once he freshened up at mine. ‘Occhio’ and ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ went home, the rest of us did the fifteen minute trek up to the East Village. Once there, I texted ‘Nickle’ to see his ETA. He called me back right away and said he wasn’t feeling like meeting me and he was in a strange mood. I spent about ten minutes carefully trying to see if I should convince him to come out or not. I wanted to see him, I’ve been in his situation, I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to do. I insisted he join us and he did. He showed up a bit drunk and emotional. We had a chat about us and about how he feels like he’s loosing himself. About how he’s scared of where he’s going. All familiar subjects for both of us. Having reached compromise, he went home (or so I thought, apparently he had a few more rounds at Nowhere) and I went to “The Church” with ‘Jose Maria’ to meet up with ‘Geordie-Mo’.

It was nice to be back. I hadn’t been to my old stomping grounds in a while now and I was happy to say hi to the Wednesday night gays. The highlight of the evening, tho, was seeing ‘Geordie-Mo’, who’d just been through a break up and had planned a New York trip to get away from all the things that come when you end a relationship.

That night, I drank more than expected. I got back to my handsome asleep on my full size bed. I kissed him goodnight and dozed off next to him.

Thursday morning was a brand new day. I had told work I was coming in late because “I was going to wait for my friend to get back from the airport” but really I didn’t want to deal with the post-event clean up. ‘Nickle’ went to work, and I went to brunch at The Crosby with ‘Geordie-Mo’ and ‘Jose Maria’. Since I was now allowed to drink again, I ordered a bloody mary to go with my fall vegetable soup. We all started drinking. David Gahan from Depeche Mode sat on the table next to us. We ordered more drinks. I concluded that since I wasn’t going to have much time to spend with my British friend, I should probably take the day off and hang out with him right then and there. I called work and said my friend’s flight was delayed.

We scheduled the rest of our day: The Daphne Guiness exhibit at FIT and more daytime drinking. We finished our meal and skedaddled down spring street to the ACE train and up to 23rd street. Prior to entering the museum, we had an impromptu photo shoot with the autumnal foliage on the streets of New York and acted stupid, but not too stupid. Even though I was glad to be out of work and having fun, I was still in business mode answering emails and phone calls.

The exhibit was everything that I expected from her and more. It didn’t hurt that it was free, but I would’ve payed a pretty penny to be a part of one of my favorite and most inspiring persons in the world’s experience. It was short, it was concise, and again, it was educational.

We left FIT and walked over to Madison Square Park to kill some time. We then walked to Boxers for happy hour but were shit out of luck as the place didn’t open for about another hour. We walked back east to GYM, downed a couple of unejoyably watered down beers, played some pornographic photo hunt, and left to go back to Boxers. This time the bar was open. We weren’t planning on drinking as much but, being early enough for happy hour, every place was two for one. Two Jack and Gingers ensued.

We left at around 7 pm to go back to my place and get some food from The Meatball Shop with ‘Nickle’, his friend, ‘Viquers’ and ‘Fixie’, before going to The Abbey for a nightcap. I wanted my friends to meet my friend with an accent. The bar was alright. To my knowledge, we all had a good time, and to my surprise, both ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘Fixie’ showed significant interest in ‘Geordie-Mo’. The surprise did not come from me questioning my dear Briton’s appeal, but from how funny I found their little crush to be. I believe we all left at a reasonable hour and went to our respective after hours. In my case, bed with the babe.

Friday I did show up to work, despite wanting to take another day off. It’s funny how much I used to love going to work, and ever since these new changes have happened I haven’t been as eager. Regardless, I did my full 7 hours exuding my best effort and with a grin on (I try not to smile much).

After work, I met ‘Nickle’ with two of his friends at Solas. We were supposed to meet for dinner but plans changed, as usual, so we had a couple of beers and a few rounds of shots and ended up having a slice instead. We then walked towards Ludlow in the Lower East Side for more drinks with another one of his bartender friends. I wasn’t complaining, I was actually having a really good time. My baby’s friends kept mentioning how changed he seems and how in love he seems to be with me. They pointed out they haven’t seen him like this in the 5+ years they’ve known him, and I started to feel like I was either extremely lucky, or in some sort of Truman Show. I took another shot and just went with it.

We left sometime between 9 and 10 to go back to ‘Nickle’s’ apartment and make a bag for our big weekend trip. He filled his green duffle bag with a few items of clothing (most of his favorite stuff is already permanently stored at my place), and we walked over to my apartment to drop off said bag. We then texted ‘Geordie-Mo’ who had been out and about with his 718 beau so we could confirm the plans we’d made to meet. Eleven-o-clock at Metropolitan.

On our way there, ‘Nickle’ had a severe craving for a cigarette that actually scared me in terms of whether or not I was going to be able to help him resist. Somehow we did, and instead we ended up at Yola’s Cafe for some unnecessary burrito, but I guess it’s better to be fat than cancerous. Again, he thanked me for standing my ground, and I felt reassured for doing so. Sometimes I fear he’s going to resent me one day.

We left the fast food joint and ran into ‘Geordie-Mo’ and company who were also running late. We all walked in to Metro and ordered more drinks. By this point I was so drunk that I stupidly forgot my mission at hand: 718 beau reconnaissance. We finished our beer and left the single boys to their own demise. We walked back home and cleverly thought to stop by The Abbey for the second night cap of the night.

A beer and a shot of whiskey and I was drunk and horny. We didn’t stay long. We had another round of beer and shots and shared a much watered down brew before heading home to sleep but not before having some a-bit-kinkier-than-average time, the details of which shall remain a secret, but do let your imagination run.

The past few days were emotional in a different level. It was the second time that I didn’t feel alone because ‘Nickle’ was actually having some readjusting issues. It is strange how vulnerability makes him sexy. Is it the change of power that excites us? I guess for the moment I am not able to tell… but I will say this: that night I felt closer to my babe than I had felt till that moment.

“I know it’s where you want to go this time, I see you where you are. Don’t fight, you’re about to figure out it’s fine.”

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Tag: ‘BoGo’