‘Occhio’ | 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!”

Leave a comment

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.”

Leave a comment

13.11.2011

Combat Baby.

“Said it all before. They try to kick it, their feet fall asleep. I want to be wrong but, no one here wants to fight me like you do.”

Stone cold sober. I smoked my last cigarette, I drank my last shot. I started meds last Tuesday. Nothing too serious, just an annoying skin infection I’ve apparently had for 10 years and had never really dealt with. The time I’ve had it goes to show how mild it is but, like most things, there comes a point when you have to deal with it and, after delaying it for several months (I was diagnosed and prescribed treatment last August), I finally decided to man up and embark on my 6 weeks of sobriety.

I was excited to go to work on Tuesday morning. I knew it would be a busy day and I was looking forward to it keeping my mind off things. Unfortunately, with a big load of work, comes a big load of stress, and with a big load of stress comes a big load of cravings for a damn cigarette! It was a long day. I probably bought every single type of gum and candy I could find to keep my mouth busy. I’ve quit before and I’ve never felt the urge to light up as bad as I have this time. Texts went back in both directions between me and ‘Nickle’. We were fighting the same war but in different fronts. It was somewhat comforting to know I wasn’t the only one, but still a task harder than I imagined.

I got done with work and went home. I had made plans earlier that day with a friend from college to give her two more full packs of cigarettes I had found in my jackets that morning as I was getting ready to leave my place. We were meeting for dinner. My babe biked to my place and we walked to Wild Ginger. I had not seen this girl in a really long time, probably a year, and I had not properly hung out with her since… probably college. It was a great evening. She is effortlessly beautiful inside and out, and one of the easiest people to connect with. I gave her her present, she gave me some advice on not drinking. Apparently, unbeknownst to me, she’s been sober for two years. The evening continued and, as it often happens, there was a point when ‘Nickle’ went to the bathroom and she took the time to say what I always here: he’s great, he’s really nice, we look good together. Again, it never gets old.

Dinner ended and we headed home. No one was drinking so there was really no reason to go to a bar or keep hanging out (how sad). We went home, laid on the couch, and tried to watch Crazy Stupid Love. We were unsuccessful and kept falling asleep so we opted for bed. Once in bed, one kiss led to another and we ended up fooling around. A pair of orgasms later, we were both sound asleep.

Wednesday morning was another early day. It was the first morning in a really (and I cannot stress that enough) long time I woke up completely sober. No morning cigarette. No morning chugging of two bottles of vitamin water to rehydrate. No morning trying to remember what happened the night before. Instead, I was somewhat productive and went to pick up some business cards for my boss right before heading to work. Again, the stress of my day along with the stress of not smoking made my day long and arduous but I made it through. The thought of seeing the boyfriend definitely helped.

After work, we went to a charity auction in SoHo. Free drinks and hors d’oeuvres. I, of course, was sipping water, but I still had fun. I bid on a handwriting analysis, and a few day laters I was notified I won. We didn’t stay for long. We left after about an hour and headed to Mooncake Foods for a proper dinner. Sadly, my sandwich was oozing with onions and, having the pet peeves I have about restaurant food, I went into a fit, I picked through the pieces of fried tofu and left the rest. Regardless, the baby enjoyed his meal so it was all worth it.

We headed back to Brooklyn and made a pit stop at Saint’s Alp for some bubble tea before heading to The Abbey. It was one of the bartenders’ birthday so we stopped for some cake and a shot of champagne. I was a bit delirious because it had been two full days of sobriety and I was stressed and annoyed. My handsome man had been trying his best to be there for me, but still I felt alone and annoyed. A part of me just wanted to lock myself in my room and not come out for 6 weeks. Thinking back on it only makes me rant more, so I’ll stop now… In all fairness, I’m glad my babe stuck around. It significantly helped to not feel I was doing this solo.

We went home and passed out early. Another dull night. Another notch on my advent calendar.

Thursday morning was more of the same. No drinking, no smoking, and work. For the evening, I had plans of going to Elmgreen and Dragset’s play “Happy Days in the Art World” at NYU’s Skirball Center. I met ‘Nickle’ and ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ outside the venue 15 minutes before, and without a cigarette, we walked in. The play was absolutely amazing. Entertaining. Funny. Witty. Challenging. Concise. I’ve always been a fan of their work, but this just made it even better.

Still not being able to drink or smoke, we left and went for some burgers at Stand4 near Union Square. They had a margarita special that I was unable to partake in. I was annoyed and stressed. I painfully downed my salmon burger and sweet potato fries and went home with my papa. Again, he’s been the best sport. We went to bed early.

Friday, ditto. After work, I met ‘Nickle’ and co. for an art show somewhere off Clinton and Grand near the Williamsburg Bridge. Again, drinks were passed right in front of me but this time I decided to have one. I was stressed and annoyed. A glass of cheap gallery white wine was not going to kill me, and if it did, so be it! ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ had invited us to dine with her and one of the people from Marfa who was in town. We said we’d meet her sometime around 9 pm, but plans, of course, never go as planned. Me, ‘Nickle’, and two of his friends ended up at my place where we waited for ‘The Lady of Derbishire’, then at The Abbey, later at Vinnie’s for some pizza, and finally at some bar near Metropolitan and Union where the spastic cowboy artist was crashing a wedding. He wasn’t really paying much attention to us, and I was still annoyed and tired so I asked to leave. The girls who were with us went home, and ‘Nickle’ suggested we go back to my place. I responded with a “Let’s go back to The Abbey” because I felt like I was boring the shit out of him.

And so we did. And I somewhat regretted it. We stumbled into a really good friend of him who, do not get me wrong, I love! But, he was very drunk and got kicked out of the bar so we took him back to my place. All was fine, I would totally do that for any of my friends, any of his close friends, or anyone who really needed it… but a slight part of me just really wished we had just gone home so I could get lost on my babe’s chest as I fell promptly asleep… regardless, I was glad to lend a helping hand.

Saturday morning my love had the day off, I had to go to work. He spent most of the day running errands around my place. There was a lot of production work to be done at my job and I was busy for most of the day. The cigarette cravings were subsiding. Towards the end of the day, the new boss decided to pull out our old habits and offered to have a drink with the rest of us. I finished my beer and headed out. I wanted to see a movie with ‘Nickle’ but he was uptown drinking at The Seahorse Tavern so I opted to go meet him. I was still annoyed I couldn’t drink and I was a bit worried that everyone was already going to be of their way to alcohol induced amnesia. To my surprise, they absolutely weren’t… or didn’t seem to at least. I ordered a beer and joined in. All was fun and good times till my babe kept insisting for a cigarette. At first I told him not to think about it and just have gum (our substitute for nicotine), but eventually, and I knew exactly when he changed his mind, he came out of the bathroom with a fag in mouth letting me know he was going to smoke it. I insisted I wouldn’t be happy but, of course, he’s his own person and can do whatever. After a slight mental tug-o-war, he decided against smoking. I was very happy yet a bit perturbed. I obviously didn’t want him to have the cigarette, yet at the same time I was being weary of sounding nagging, and I also didn’t want him to resent me for asking him not to. Later that evening, he thanked me, and I was glad to have stuck to my guns.

We had agreed to go to the movies after a drink, but one thing led to another and we ended up at The Abbey. One more beer, one more shot, and then off to Sugarland, because we’d also agreed we wanted to dance. The club was empty. Regardless, we acted like complete fools and jumped and pranced around the empty dance floor to some pretty awful remixes of gay dance classics, and left as soon as it got crowded (about 8 more people than when we started). We went back to The Abbey to see if ‘Nickle’s’ friend was still there and what her plans were. She decided to stay, we had one more round and went to bed.

I started to feel guilty about my drinking. It wasn’t a lot by my standards, but I’m sure anyone would disagree that 4 beers and 3 shots is nothing when you’re not supposed to drink. ‘Nickle’ got a bit emotional as well and in his inebriated state stated he wasn’t going to let me drink or drink with me for the rest of the time I wasn’t supposed to. I took this with a grain of salt knowing we had a future Thanksgiving trip to Chicago to visit his best friend who, as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, is also quite the drinker. Never the less, I took his word and reminded him the next morning.

Sunday was my first official weekend day off since I’ve changed my schedule at work. Now I’m doing Tuesday – Saturday so I can have at least one day free together with ‘Nickle’. We were still not drinking and, after the previous two nights where I had decided to ignore the surgeon general’s warnings, I was ready to continue that. I felt a mix of guilt, and physical pain for having so irresponsibly overlooked the doctor’s suggestions.

Continuing my usual Dominical traditions, the babe made us pancakes. Delicious. We later had some sexy time and then took showers. The day started slow, but picked up a bit since we were hosting a sober game night later in the evening. I got a call to go to work to drop off some stuff, so we decided to kill a few birds with one stone and walk with ‘Toto’ across the Williamsburg Bridge to the Lower East Side, pick up some Vanessa’s dumplings, stop by my job, and walk back. It was exactly what I’d been needing. ‘Nickle’ had been such a great sport about my drinking conundrum, and I just wanted for him to be happy, and I think the activities of the day helped.

We got back to my place around 6 pm and started making food. People showed up about an hour or two after that. The night, which was completely atypical to say the least, was actually fun. I was very weary about boring my guests and, more importantly, my love, but they were all great sports. Other than ‘Mexican Paddington’ and ‘The Queen of the Dammed’, no one drank a drop of alcohol. ‘Fixie’ and ‘Viquers’ were actually mad at me for having slipped the past few days. To my utmost surprise, ‘Jose Maria’ was completely sober, and ‘Occhio’ and one of my coworkers, who weren’t really getting in tune with the rest of the crew, were sober as well.

At around midnight and after about five rounds of Apples to Apples later they all went home. Me and the bf hit the sack and passed out rather quickly. I think I was starting to get used to falling asleep sans ethanol.

Mondee, without me knowing, would turn out to be my last officially forced sober day. We woke up rather early, and being completely sober and without a hang over, we enjoyed another round of sexy time. I love morning sex and I’m glad ‘Nickle’ does too. There’s no better way to start my days. I received a very early message from ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ to go meet her at school so we could film the last interview of the documentary we’ve been working on. It was a bit last minute but Mondays are my day off so I had no reason not to be able to do so. After cumming, I showered and headed to CUNY. We picked up the equipment needed for filming and took the A train south to Chelsea. We met the people involved with the Marfa project at Hotel Americano somewhere on the high 20’s between 10th and 11th ave.

This time, the interviewees were the artists behind the project. They were unbelievably nice and helpful. The filming went flawless and after we joined them for lunch. I didn’t have to officially work, but I did have to stop by at some point and open the place for other people who needed to be there, so at around quarter to 2 pm, I left 40 bucks on the table, excused myself, and headed to SoHo.

I arrived 5 minutes late, and people were a bit annoyed, but I ignored their moodiness, open the doors, and decided to stay the day and work on personal projects. I updated the blog, and scheduled a few other fun sober nights for me and ‘Nickle’. We are going to see Warhorse on the 15th. I also waited for him to get off work so we could have a quiet night. We were going to cross the Williamsburg bridge together again, rent a movie, and have a night in. I, however, stupidly suggested we go to Beauty and Essex for dinner to have some grilled cheese and tomato soup dumplings that I had heard they served but had never tried. His response to that was happy hour oysters, dumplings, and then a hamburger pizza. A bit gluttonous for my taste, but not something I wouldn’t normally be fine with, except my stomach was killing me. To that point, I’d been having a bunch of side effects from the medicine and was not feeling sexy or in the mood for indulging too much.

He picked me up and we did walk to the oyster bar. Within minutes of getting there he asked if I was OK with him having a beer. I lied and said yes. The reason I say I lied is because, normally, I wouldn’t care, except he had promised a couple nights earlier he wouldn’t drink in solidarity with me, and now he was instantaneously asking for a beer the moment we walked in. I didn’t say anything and just let myself get in a weird mood.

After a few minutes of mentally debating whether I should speak up or not, I finally did. It didn’t create much of a problem but it did put a slight damper on my already psychotic state of mind (it was harder than I thought to quit smoking and drinking at the same time). At the end, I think he did understand my point. We left and went to Beauty and Essex, had a few appetizers, talked a bit more about the night, and worked it all out. The thing I love about us is how vocal we are and how we will talk it out till it’s sorted out.

Sometimes I feel really controlling, crazy, and demanding when I let these things get to me, but I just feel like I shouldn’t need to point them out because, first of all, I am incredibly giving and I do things without others even expecting or suggesting me to do it; and second, because he did promise me something, and to me promises mean so much that sometimes I’d rather people not make them because I hold them in a higher regard than I think most people do.

I snapped out of my mental jam, and became a bit more accommodating to his needs. We left the restaurant and walked over to Rosario’s for his slice of pizza, and then across the bridge. I wasn’t feeling the best stomach wise, but the physical activity helped. We rented “Paris is Burning” on the way home. We didn’t get to watch it, we had food coma and just wanted to go to bed.

Like I mentioned a few paragraphs above, this was my last day of forceful sobriety. It was a tough week. I kind of wish it would’ve lasted longer, yet at the same time, I was glad to have done it, even if it was just for a bit. I was losing my mind and I was taking people down with me and did not feel like continuing to do so. I’m not making excuses for myself, I really didn’t know how hard not drinking was going to be. Maybe one day in the future I’ll give it a second shot? I guess, for the moment, I’m just not as strong as I thought I was.

“Combat baby! Come back baby! Fight off the lethargy, don’t go quietly. Combat baby! Said you would never give up easy”

Leave a comment

07.11.2011

I Was a Prayer

“And I open up like the back of a book. I ruin everything with just a quick look. And I settle down like a rocket explodes, hit the ground, but how far out who knows.”

I guess when it rains, it pours… and when it pours, you end up flooded. That is exactly how I felt on Halloween weekend. Aside from my usual overwhelming string of emotions and thoughts, I had a few more curve balls thrown at me. The first one: whether I wanted to accept it or not, ‘The Cock of the North’ was leaving.

Saturday morning I went to work. I was quite anxious because I had plans of going home right after, getting ready with my babe, and heading to the first Halloween party of the weekend at some loft in DUMBO. Of course after the very emotional Friday night farewell with my boss, I immediately messaged him in the morning and mentioned I wanted to see him and his wife one last time before he left. He responded by suggesting we meet for drinks that night. He insisted I invite ‘Nickle’ which meant a lot to me, because I like that he is happy and supportive of what I have. It was a tight squeeze in my schedule, but I obliged.

The weather was shit. It was the first snow of the season and, as much as I love snow, it was not cute. Wet and slushy everywhere. My handsome met me at work a bit before I’m usually out and we took a cab to the Upper West Side for some wine and some tears. We made it safe and sound. Sadly, his wife couldn’t. She was stuck dealing with the last bits and pieces of their move back to Denmark.

To restate I was emotional is an understatement. The wine didn’t help either. I spent the next hour or so hearing about how much I mean to ‘The Cock of the North’, his wife, and his mother-in-law. As promised, he had two presents for me. Two books: A Hero of Our Time and The Count of Monte Cristo. One of them had a very heartfelt note, but both were chosen specifically for me for various reasons which he didn’t really explain, but I felt they were the right ones.

Unfortunately, I had friends coming over so I had to leave promptly to go wait for them. I cried on the cab ride back.

Once in Brooklyn, we went to The Abbey to pick up ‘Occhio’ and ‘The Wife’ who were going to join in the shenanigans. We did a shot and went home to get into character. More drinks ensued.

After about an hour, Magritte’s Chaplin (me), Buddha (‘Nickle’), the little red ridding hood (‘The Wife’), jailbreak pumpkin (‘Occhio’), and a pineapple (friend of ‘The Wife’) returned to The Abbey. Another round of shots, and then a cramped taxi journey to DUMBO.

By the time we got to the loft party we were all pretty wasted. We met up with ‘Fixie’ and ‘ Viquer’s’ version of Men on Film (who later transformed into Die Antwoord), a jellyfish (‘Mexican Paddington’), a weird “homeless/bowie-esque” unicorn (‘The Queen of the Dammed’), an asparagus, a pair of bats, and some other costumed alchys. The rest of the night gets a bit blurry. I remember fighting with the decorations whilst walking through a slim hallway in search for non existent booze and a toilette; a lot of sloppy pictures being taken; a slight freak out when I lost ‘Nickle’ who, apparently, was the most wasted my friends have ever seen him (to his defense I don’t believe so, but then again, I was pretty done too); oh and, at some point, ‘Nickle’s’ friends showing up.

We all coincidentally decided to leave at the same time. My party made it back to my apartment in separate cabs but safe. We passed out almost instantaneously.

Sunday I had to work. ‘Occhio’, who’d spent the night, was the first one to leave. After putting back on an alternate version of the prior night’s outfit, I followed. ‘Nickle’ and ‘The Wife’ were going to meet me for brunch, but she did her usual disappearing act and left before we could nurse our hangover with a bloody mary. I stopped by work for about an hour and left the intern by herself with the excuse that I had errands to run. Instead, I went to practice my long lost dominical customs and ate some food with the boyfriend. We then walked around for a bit stopping by a candy store to pick up some chocolate body parts to hand out to children on Monday night during the parade. I went back to work, he went off on his own.

I left work and met him at a bar somewhere in Chinatown. He was already tipsy. I ordered a drink, he finished his, and we went to his friend’s art show around the corner. We didn’t stay for long. We left and met ‘Jose Maria’, who’s been very elusive lately, at Ten Degrees. One of ‘Nickle’s’ friends also joined and the four of us got even more drunk. I justified our usual actions with the fact that it was my second to last day before I embarked on my necessary 6 weeks of sobriety. Curve ball number 2.

We cabbed it home with plans of staying at my handsome’s apartment but, one thing led to another and, after a short conversation on my steps, we went back inside my place. Yes, another somewhat repetitive and pointless conversation. It’s not that we both don’t love talking things out but, like I’ve mentioned to him, we can’t be getting drunk to the point where we become nonsensical because we will grow tired of that.

I think that night we fooled around.

On Halloween day, my papa went to work. I watched some TV and cleaned my apartment. I honored the plans I’d made with ‘Jose Maria’ to meet for lunch and did so. We went to Westville East. It was nice to see him one on one and with no booze in our systems. He gave me a much needed bitching about my insane desire to self sabotage, and then came over to my place to help me get ready with my outfit for the night. ‘Mrs. Bancroft’ also joined. We had a few drinks as we turned ourselves into multiple versions of Richard Simmons. ‘Fixie’ and ‘Viquers’ also got in the band wagon.

We left to meet ‘Nickle’ and the rest of the party monsters at around 7 pm. We all rendez vous’d at Milady’s for some much needed food and social lubricant. ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ and ‘Occhio’ joined, as did ‘Nickle’ and three of his friends. The night was off to a good start. Shots, nachos, and cigarettes. The last night of debauchery before I started my medication, and we (me and the bf) quit smoking had begun.

We made it to the parade eventually. It was the first time I did it. It was fun but I expected something different. We didn’t last too long. It is hard to manage a large crowd of inebriated drones. We all followed ‘Mrs. Bancroft’ like lemmings to Spring Lounge where we had a few more rounds, waited for ‘Jose Maria’ and other people, and continued partying. We finished next door at Firefly where it was empty (for a reason), and finally decided to go home. ‘Nickle’ rushed to buy his last pack despite the fact that I suggested he shouldn’t because we were quitting the next morning. ‘Fixie’ bought his weight in candy. I, being exhausted from dealing with an unexpected anxiety attack, hailed a cab and took us all back to Brooklyn.

Upon arriving at my place, I got in the shower, washed my face and laid on my mattress shaking. They wanted to stay up longer. I had to work. Eventually, I snapped out of my mini anxiety attack, went outside, took ‘Nickle’ to bed, smoked a cigarette and tried to sleep. Unsuccessful at the task at hand, we got up again, smoked another cigarette with ‘Fixie’, swore off smoking, gave him our packs, and finally went to sleep. Obviously we were drunk and nonsensical.

Halloween was over, and with that so was drinking for 6 weeks, and smoking for good. I was and still am terrified about the repercussions of such commitment, especially while doing it with a significant other. I’m taking it a step at a time, and it’s been hard… but I will delve into that in the next post. For the moment, all I have to say is that, for this year, the last weekend in October proved to be pivotal. It was insightful. It was unexpected. It was exhausting. I’m ready for 2012.

“Had a nice grip on my life ’til you twisted my arm.”

Leave a comment

30.08.2011

Seventeen

“They only want you when you’re seventeen…”

So our dear Irene (the hurricane) ended up being all talk and no action (at least in Williamsburg). As you are all aware, according to Bloomberg et. all, we were expecting a natural disaster in the likes of the second coming of Christ this past weekend. Instead, we got a mild tropical storm that left us stranded, because of complete MTA shutdown, with our apartments chock full of unused non-perishable items, and, if you’re anything like me, enough alcohol and cigarettes to start our own after hours speak easy. Never the less, I had a fun, crazy weekend.

It started Friday night. After work, despite being a bit worried that I hadn’t prepared at all for the upcoming natural catastrophe, I had plans to go to a BBQ in the Upper West Side with ‘Nickle’ and his friends. I’m usually not a big of a fan of BBQ’s because of my dietary restrictions. I always find it difficult to eat because, even if I get vegetarian options, the grills are usually lacquered with animal fat and I get really grossed out. That night tho, I decided I’d just let the cook do the cooking and look the other way.

He came to my job with a coworker and we walked to the Spring A train to go uptown to 86th street for the little soiree. We purchased some red and some white and a bottle of coke (per my suggestion) to make some kalimotxos, that’s basque for red wine and coca cola. I managed to find some veggie patties to grill and we went up to ‘Nickle’s’ friend’s rooftop. Everybody I met was in their thirties. Some of them were really nice, others it took a second to warm up to, but all in all they were pretty welcoming. They seemed like a very tight knight group. ‘Nickle’ kept asking if I was alright. I was. I am very good at making good first impressions and at socializing with people from all walks of life. Within minutes I had them inviting me to future road trips, rooftop parties, and birthdays. Nothing about the BBQ really stood out, other than the views. The party was fun, but around 10ish I told ‘Nickle’ I was going to leave. He decided to come with.

The plan was to take a cab back to my place so I could feed my dog and then head to a bar nearby. We were both very drunk. When we got to my apartment we decided to stay in and sleep. Some time around 5 in the morning we woke up and fooled around. Although I did give him head, I was a bit paranoid about the whole thing. I have no idea what goes in my head, but there’s very little I can do about it. God knows I try. This time we both came. He was aiming for my penis as I was about to ejaculate when I stopped him. Like I’ve said before, I don’t feel comfortable with others swallowing my load because, although I know I’m clean, it just makes me think that they are comfortable swallowing other people’s that might not be. Furthermore, I wouldn’t return the favor and I don’t like doing things I wouldn’t do too. I passed out with the thought of getting up early and preparing for our friend Irene’s arrival.

I woke up around 9 and so did he. We laid in bed for a bit cuddling. I really enjoy doing so with him, except the damn hurricane was all I could think about. We got up, got dressed, got vitamin water, and got out of my apartment. He asked me if I wanted him to come endure the storm with me later. I said sure.

I hurried to the grocery store list in hand hoping to still find supplies for the next few days. On my list: dog food, beer, wine, cigarettes, coconut water, vitamin water, bread, tuna, peanut butter, a hand can opener, cash, paper plates, and water, in that order. That shows my priorities. I managed to get most of the things and get home safe in time for the rain to start. I wasn’t sure how to feel or what to expect. I certainly have never been through a hurricane (ok El Niño back in the 90’s, but I was too young to realize the magnitude of the situation), and after the unexpected earthquake (which turned out to be nothing), I was sure anything could happen.

I wasted most of the day making funny “Irene” jokes on Facebook, planning hurricane parties, and watching Mad Men. At around 5pm, ‘Latin T’ messaged me to come join him and his really nice friend (who I really like) for a drink. Realizing that the damn hurricane was nowhere to be seen I biked over to his place. It was a different change of pace. I didn’t feel like I was meeting him for any specific agenda. It was more like meeting a friend, and I like that because that’s where I want this to go. He seems lonely, and I’m a sucked for stray dogs.

We had a couple of beers at his apartment and then headed to Union Pool. I didn’t stay long. I was feeling a bit like a third friend wheel. I left and texted ‘Nickle’.

After a very wet and windy bike ride (Irene was finally approaching), I met him at The Abbey and had a few more drinks with him. We were hanging out with his friends and some really annoying Caribbean Hispanics of dubious sexual preference I wanted to assassinate. One of them asked me for a twenty (money), the other one unbuttoned his shirt and was getting aggressive. I’m not sure which was worse. I was supposed to meet ‘Fixie’ but he’s been somewhat flakey lately so I just decided to have fun with ‘Nickle’ and let him be him. Me, ‘Nickle’, his amazing Irish friend, and the man she picked up left the bar and went back to my place for more drinks. We hung out for a beer’s time and she left with her beau du jour. ‘Fixie’ texted me and ended up coming over. We watched True Blood and had more beers. ‘Nickle’ was wasted and I kind of wanted to have a chit chat with ‘Fixie’ so I send him to bed and stayed up for a bit longer. I passed out on the couch but woke up at around 7am to ‘Fixie’ watching documentaries and Irene in full storm (literally). My windows were leaking. I was too drunk to care so I tucked ‘Fixie’ on the futon and went to bed.

At some point in the morning ‘Nickle’ tried to fool around with me. I was still drunk and too tired so I played possum. I am not sure what it is about him or how I feel towards the man. Sometimes I really like him, sometimes I’m slightly turned off, sometimes I just don’t know. We woke up at around 11 in the morning to no signs of the damn hurricane. With mild winds and barely any rain outside yet gorgeous cumulonimbus clouds, we decided to grab some brunch. ‘Fixie’ went in search of some tail, we met ‘Nickle’s’ friend a block away and walked to Five Leaves, which was closed, then to Enid’s, which was a giant mess, and back to Walter Foods on Grand St, which was also not happening. We ended up at a local sports bar asking for a hurricane (the drink, not Irene), but we got slightly laughed at so we settled for a beer. We then crossed the street to go to Lodge for some food. After a 45 minute wait I was gobbling up a vegan BLT and my second bloody mary.

With our stomachs somewhat satisfied, we continued our search for Hurricane Booze. We ended up at Metro where we finally were granted the privilege to savor the fruity (both literally and figuratively) drink. Just like Irene, it was anticlimactic. We reverted to beers. A couple of drinks later we left and went to Macri Park (the bar, not the actual green triangle) where we had yet more brewskis and a shot of whiskey. It was almost time for True Blood and I was planning my escape when friends of ‘Nickle’ suggested we join them at a Greek bar a block away where they were playing the show. We joined.

Sometime mid episode, I started receiving texts from the cute boy (‘Young Seth’) I had met last Wednesday who I let go because I spent the night with DJ. ‘Young Seth’ was at Metro. My inner drunk, greedy slut lied (yes! you heard me right!!!) and said I was going home. Instead, I walked around the block and back to Metro I went. I had a couple of drinks with ‘Young Seth’ and left. He invited himself over but changed his mind because he was going to wait for his Australian friend. I walked home a bit more drunk enough to not feel ashamed of my actions.

** Not to make excuses here but, this is not typical behavior for me, nor do I condone it, yet I don’t feel too bad about it. I think it’s because, really, other than, yes, lying, which is never good under any circumstance, I’m not doing anything terrible here. I’m single, I haven’t set labels or anything with any of these men, and I am free to do as I please. Chances are, some, if not all of them, are doing the same thing. It’s New York, we are young, we are gay. Simple algebra would explain this mathematical equation. Furthermore, I’m honest about it. I’ve told them I’m going on other dates and, if questioned further, I will gladly go into details. I have nothing to hide. **

I was planning on calling it a night and watching TV when ‘Occhio’ texted me saying he was back at Metro. I put back my clothes on and out the door I went for the third time that day. Yes, I have no shame. I hung out with ‘Occhio’, his female friend, and his gay coworkers. ‘Young Seth’ was still there. I divided my time between both posses and proceeded to make out with the latter. As if two boys weren’t enough, I got a text from ‘Fixie’ asking if I wanted to hang out and rewatch True Blood. Naturally, my answer was “yes”. ‘Young Seth’ pointed out the fact that I was texting ‘Fixie’. Did I miss the memo here? Since when is it a crime to text friends when out with other friends (because, really, that’s all I could call ‘Young Seth’ at this point). I didn’t acknowledge his stupid inquiry, and changed the topic. He left shortly after saying that he’d love to come over but he didn’t think it was such a good idea. Again, when was it part of the deal that he’d come spend the night? Besides, we had a date the next night.

I went back to ‘Occhio’ and co. They were talking to some local straight dude and his gay Chi town friend visiting. The Chicagoan was not my type by any means. He kind of reminded me of Jeremy Renner. However, there was something attractive about him. I think it was his very masculine demeanor. After a bit of chatting, he blatantly asked me if I wanted to go back to my place and play. I was a bit tempted because of my drunkness, but I told him I had a friend coming over and Bro’s come before Ho’s. He didn’t understand at first but, eventually, after I kissed him (don’t judge), and gave him my number (out of drunken pity), he left defeated. ‘Occhio’ asked me if he could spend the night, which was fine. I went home, ‘Occhio’ walked his lady friend to her place, and said he’d meet me later.

‘Fixie’ was waiting outside my place. We went upstairs and drank more beer and watched more True Blood. He mentioned he’d seen ‘Nickle’ at the corner store. I assumed he was at our local bar, so I went downstairs to the deli for some food, and walked over to said bar while I was waiting. He was there smoking outside with some friends. I said hi, invited them all over, and went back to pick up the sandwiches I’d purchased. ‘Occhio’ arrived at my place. We finished watching TV and me and a naked ‘Fixie’ went to bed. Thankfully, ‘Nickle’ never came.

Monday, all my guests left to their respective workplaces. I dilly dallied a bit, cleaned my apartment, went to yoga, and met ‘Young Seth’ for our “date”. We started at a local Thai place I’d never been to. The beginning of the date was almost a great as the food. This one seems very sweet and young, yet a bit innocent. Almost a bit too innocent for a jaded guy like me. All I kept singing in my head is Taio Cruz’s catchy “Break Your Heart”.

We left the restaurant and discussed where to grab our next drink. We nixed Metro for fear of running into other people we might know and settled on Phoenix because it was the second to last night till the place regretfully closes. Before heading over, we made a pit stop at my place so I could change into a more weather appropriate shirt. The summer has almost abandoned New York.

We had a couple of beers at mine, and watched the A-List. I could tell he would’ve been fine with staying there and fooling around, but I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go with him (yes, I have a conscience and I’ll kiss a thousand boys, but I try not to sleep with many, especially simultaneously), not was I nearly sufficiently drunk to not care, so we left for the East Village.

Phoenix was nice. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you want to look at it, since the bar was closing all drinks were two for one. We started with ginger (whiskey for me, vodka for him) cocktails. The ethanol was working its magic on us and eventually we started kissing. I do fancy this one, he seems sweet, nice, cute, and a potential good relationship. However, like I said before, I don’t think I want that. I am not there right now and I will probably just “break his heart”. I said hi to a few familiar faces. I could tell the whole time he was wondering what I meant by “friends” and “I know him”. All I can say is he needs to change his outlook because I was once there and it does nothing but make you go crazy to think that way, ESPECIALLY in this city. For the record, one I fooled around with months ago, the other I was meaning to fool around with but never happened and now we’re just friends, the last I’ve never felt any desires to do so.

We left after about four drinks. I was feeling a bit “in the mood” and asked him if he was coming over. He said he had to get up quite early but was thinking about it. I clarified there’d be no actual sex. He gave in.

The night was good. The boy is handsome and has a nice body. No, he is not ripped but, to me, a nice body means someone who obviously cares about their physique, yet doesn’t obsess over it, and is not going to be staring at the mirror the whole time we’re fucking. We fooled around for a long time. He gives good head, and even better anilingus. The thing about young boys is that they’re so willing to please their older counterparts. Sometimes I take advantage of this. I was quite tired and drunk so I suggested we finish off. With a tongue up my ass and my hand on my cock I did so at the same time he did. I passed out almost immediately.

I woke up a couple hours later to him getting up. I went to the bathroom to wipe my own dried up genetic material off my chest, and asked him if he was alright. He seemed a bit frantic and said he was leaving because he was afraid he wouldn’t wake up in time for whatever it was he needed to do that morning. I was a bit annoyed because I thought that was typical young guy behavior. They lack etrickquette. I smoked a cigarette, watched from my window as he walked to the train, and went to bed.

This morning I woke up and nixed yoga. I was a bit too hung over. I took my dog to the vet for a travel certificate, went for a mani and a pedi, and came back home to write and work a bit. I was texting with him for a bit. He apologized and asked what my schedule was like for the next week. I assume he wants to see me again. I also talked to ‘Nickle’. I have a date with him tonight. What can I say? A few of my older European friends have always told me I am an attractive, young, fun, and somewhat successful guy, and I should take advantage of that while I can. I find it hard to disagree.

If Helen Marnie’s words are true, I should enjoy it because I won’t be able to later… “when you’re twenty-one, you’re no fun”.

Leave a comment

24.08.2011

Where I’m going…

“Take my hand if you know where I’m going through, take my hand if you know where I’m going”. The blog keeps taking better form as the days go by. Today I will, as usual, talk about the past few days which have, just like the blog, been taking better form.

Sunday I started to work all by my lonesome self. The day was going slow until my good ol’ friend ‘Occhio’ showed up with sour candy (a personal addiction of mine). He very often visits which is why I’ve given myself the liberty to bestow upon him the title of “Unofficial Honorary Intern”. There wasn’t much to be accomplished that day so we just hung out, skyped with ‘Jose Maria’, and caught up. I haven’t been hanging out with him as much as I used to.

After work I went home and he went to hang out with his other friends. I didn’t have many plans for the night ahead other than watching True Blood, but an acquaintance of mine (‘Jay & F) who I had sex with a while back texted me saying it was his last night in town and he was going to Gansevoort. I told him I’d meet him there. I texted a couple of friends and hopped on the L towards the meatpacking. The party was not very happening. The boys were not my taste. My mood wasn’t exactly the best.

I ordered a drink and searched for ‘Jay & F’. He didn’t seem as friendly as I had expected, maybe he had that bit of post coitum awkwardness still lingering around. To be honest, I didn’t think much of the time we had sex. We were drunk and that was it, I’m not really into him nor was I at the time, but maybe for him it was different. He IS a bit younger, and he acts more like your average gay. I pretended not to notice and proceeded to talk to him and introduce myself to his friends, all Chelsea boys. They were all a bit stand offish. I suppose that is the case when they meet a fag who doesn’t share their aesthetic beliefs of “perfect” ripped bodies, and thorough manscaping. One of his friends, an Asian gay of deceiving age who happened to work with ‘John G’, kept hitting on me and touching my lips over and over saying they were amazing. I acted evasively coy.

I texted ‘ John G’ to see if he was coming. He said he was on his way and would arrive in half hour. We all ordered more drinks, I smoked (none of them did), and we talked more about what we did and where we lived. Again, God forbid the socialize with anyone living east of Union Square, north of 59th, and south of the numbered streets. They all finished their drinks and left. I smoked another cigarette and waited for my friend.

Lately, I’ve been enjoying more and more ‘John G’s’ new outlook on life. He used to be way more negative and antisocial. I attribute most of his recent change to his new job. I think he was miserable in previous work environments. We talked about Grindr, and how he’s now on it and enjoying the good and the bad that comes from it. I reassured him that, as long as he’s smart about it, it’s a fun way to meet guys whether they end up being friends, fucks, or life partners. One last drink and we were out. He wanted to go to Cielo and, although I was a bit skeptical due to my first bad impression of the place (see previous post about my crazy night at ACE hotel), I agreed. I’m all about not letting bad experiences leave me with sour tastes.

Cielo was stupid. We paid a five dollar cover and it was somewhat empty. We ordered a drink and danced for a bit. I was somewhat drunk. I spotted a cute boy who I decided I’d talk to. He turned out to be German, what do you know? He wasn’t interested. I was a tiny bit. I didn’t want to drink more and was looking forward to my bed so I suggested we have a last drink and go home (my way of saying: “hey, I’m bored, but I’m wasted so let’s grab one before we hit the road”, usually this goes way better than being: “let’s leave”). I chugged the diluted concoction and headed for the door.

On our way to the train we thought of the magnificent idea of getting some taco bell to reminisce our Southern California days (that’s where we met). We walked all the way to Union Square but it was closed. I guess we forgot we weren’t actually in California. He asked if I wanted to go to another bar, but I politely declined and hopped on the train back to apartment. Time to cuddle with the pup.

Monday I did nothing for most of the day. I relaxed and had a chain smoking, pup cuddling, Mad Men marathon. I made some delicious pasta with fake meat sauce and mozzarella sticks. I texted a bit with DJ and mentioned I might be going out in his neighborhood later that night. I took a nap and woke up around 7. In a moment of pure drive, I decided to start doing yoga again. I got in my skimpy dolphin shorts, flip flops, and tee, swung my mat across my shoulder, and walked to my old studio. Note to self: DO NOT EVER stop doing yoga on a regular basis. I almost died. It was not unbelievably hot or anything in particular, but I suppose I was really out of shape. For the first time ever, I felt dizzy, had tunnel vision, and took a break between poses. Somehow I survived and rushed home to watch the A-List.

A friend of mine who bartends at Phoenix had suggested I stop by because the bar is closing soon and I haven’t seen him in a while. I skipped the A-List, showered, and headed to the East Village. The bar was kind of empty but nice. I ordered a drink, he gave me a shot and a beer. I ordered another drink, he gave me another beer and another shot. I was pretty drunk. I met some familiar faces and some short guy, ‘Claude’, who looked very much like my friend’s ex (except my friend’s ex is straight and lives in LA). We started talking and he asked me if I wanted to go with him to Eastern Bloc. I hadn’t talked to DJ, and I didn’t really feel like going there with someone else because I know a lot of the people there and I just wasn’t comfortable, but I did. The place was also empty. Saw a couple of familiar faces, ordered a drink, and got another one for free. ‘Handsome Wednesday’ was there. Coincidentally, he was talking to DJ on grindr. For a split second I wondered if they’d fuck. Just for a split second.

‘Claude’ suggested we go to a karaoke place and have a bottle of champagne he would buy. I agreed. We walked back towards Phoenix and ended at some tacky place I always see and wonder who actually goes there. Now I know. He knew the bartender. He asked for the bottle of “champagne”, which actually turned out to be really cheap Prosecco. We had a glass and he sang a song. He had a nice voice. I am not quite sure when the night took a wrong turn but somehow I ended up outside smoking a cigarette being lectured on my rudeness. Apparently, without my knowing, I was being impolite for going on Grindr (which I did when I was at Eastern Bloc talking to Handsome Wednesday looking for friends), and he was not going to sleep with me. I honestly missed the memo that said I was on a date and that I was planning on sleeping with him. I wasn’t opposed to it, but that was definitely not my intention. I left and sent him a message on Grindr (yes, he was on it too!) saying: “honestly you got me so wrong”.

Tuesday morning my dog cuddling, chain smoking, Mad Men marathon continued. My productive day started a bit earlier tho. I went to yoga at 4:30 pm. It was not as bad as the day before. After sweating my sins out I went home, made food, and continued my morning activities. DJ texted me saying he was in Brooklyn with his best friend biking and asked what I was doing. I replied: “to be honest, I’m naked laying in bed, smoking a cigarette, and watching Mad Men”. I wasn’t trying to be flirty. He asked if I wanted to join them and then maybe grab some food. I said yes, threw some clothes on my stinky, salty body, and went downstairs with my bike.

The ride was nice. We rode all the way to the water on the Greenpoint side and then back to Williamsburg for some delicious Mexican food at Mesa Coyoacan. To say they loved the food is a understatement. DJ’s friend already went for more today (according to Facebook). We rode back to my place where they dropped me off. Me and DJ kissed for a long time. I told him I’d text him later if I was in the city because I had plans to meet with a girl I went to elementary with later that night. I took a shower and off to Le Bain I went.

The Standard was packed. It was a The Blonds party which, frankly, I could care less. I met my “friend” there, she looked like what I would expect her 12 year old self to look 14 years older except for her voice, which was terribly similar to the way Mexico City Preppies talk. I guess I shouldn’t be THAT surprised, she does come from money, but she’d fled the country way before I did, so I expected her to be significantly more whitewashed than I am. Despite us never having a close relationship, she seemed very happy to see me. She was there with her friend who was, in fact, a Mexico City Preppy. We promptly exchanged stories, where we’ve been, what we’ve done, where we’re going. It was a nice encounter. I remember back in elementary I used to think she was really cool. It was satisfying to see that now it was the opposite. I stayed with them for two drinks’ time. I texted DJ to see if he was still up. He was. I asked if I should come over, he said: “yes but we’re only cuddling”. I am not sure how I felt about this but it seemed a bit odd. Last time we spent the night together he wasn’t his usual ass eating self, and now he was saying this?! I mean, I don’t mind it at all because half the time I’d rather cuddle than fool around. Less anxiety the morning after, but still… my worse case scenario self made me think there was something more severe. It turned out he’s just had a tummy ache for the past few days. I bid my new friend goodbye, and cabbed it to his place.

Upon arrival, we got naked and did just that: cuddle. It was short and sweet. We tried watching some TV but surprisingly enough I was sleepy without being wasted. We slept naked waking up a few times to switch spoon positions. I slept for 10 whole hours. What the fuck? is all I have to say about the night. It was nice but very different in all aspects. I woke up, he offered to make me food (eggs), but since I don’t partake in eating chicken fetuses, I thanked him and declined. I got dressed and walked to work.

I’m having a cigarette right now. I just got home from yoga. I’m going to take a shower and bike to get some sushi, and then to my usual Wednesday spot. Will I go home with him again? Honestly, I don’t know. That would be two nights in a row, and is that really where we are? I’m not going to think about it too much. Tomorrow I’m meeting ‘Fixie’ at my work so we can bike back to Brooklyn together for some dinner, drinks, and whatever else.

“Take my hand ’cause I know what you’re going through… Half the time I had no way of knowing…”

Leave a comment

08.07.2011

NY NY NY NY NY NY NY

It’s been exactly 7 days since I’ve been back. I figured that rather than posting constantly about every single day, while in New York I’m gonna post once or twice a week, unless something truly exceptional happens. I’m not saying I don’t have quite the exceptional life, I do, I love it, I enjoy it, I don’t want to change it, but I’d hate to sound repetitive and predictive: yes, I went out again tonight and got drunk and crazy… how many times do we want to read that? Without further ado I will try to write a recap on my first week back home to the best of my blurry mind’s abilities.

I landed last Friday. As soon as I did I started texting people. I had dinner plans within minutes, so I took a cab home, and called ‘Freckles’ to let me in to my own apartment. ‘Freckles’ is my friend who’d been house sitting for me. I walked my exceptionally graceful dog who is an amazing traveler to have him pee after holding it in for 6 or 7 hours, and went upstairs. I was in dire need of a shower, so after a brief catching up I did so. Then, we headed to ‘Pulino’s’ to meet up with my other friend ‘Jose Maria’ and one of my coworkers. The whole time I’d been texting with ‘Latin T’ I thought I liked. He was in the neighborhood and decided to meet up with us for a drink.

After Pulino’s we headed for more drinks at a few bars in the East Village. Nothing really different or out of the ordinary. I was ecstatically happy to be back. Summer nights in New York HAVE to be the best place in the world. It’s warm and everybody’s walking around almost naked and enjoying the weather. Us New Yorkers put up with the winters and the summer days for the few hours of summer nights we get. ‘Latin T’ decided to kiss me. It felt nice. He was very forward but in a cute way. I didn’t mind. I felt like I could play the roll of “average fag in love for the night” for the night. We were holding hands, kissing, hugging, basically making my friends wonder who the fuck had gotten back from Europe and what did he do with the real me. ‘Latin T’ asked me to come home with me. I politely declined. I wasn’t feeling it for a couple of reasons. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how I felt about him but I was intrigued to find out, so I decided not to fuck it up and explore my new found Latinophilia for the next few days. I ended up passing out at around 4 or 5 in the morning, I think.

Saturday was my first day back at work. I was very excited to come back. I was somewhat dreading all the catching up I’d have to do, mostly for my own crazy reasons because I’m sure it wouldn’t be that big of an issue if I just didn’t get up to speed and just started fresh, but that’s not me. I’m obsessive compulsive. It was nice to be welcomed back with open arms and blank stares (the beard was gone). That day was ‘The Cock of the North’s’ birthday. I had gotten him a really nice present that I was sure he’d love. When he opened it, he was happier than a sick child who’d just received news of his new kidney after life riskingly waiting for a transplant. As expected, we went over to his house after work and celebrated his day. We had some cocktails and then went to a bar. It was a nice chill night at first. Then, my other friend ‘Afterline’ suggested we go to an after-party at Le Bain for a quick late night dip in the hot tub. I wanted to loyally stay and hang out with ‘The Cock of the North’, but I also felt guilt tripped into going, and I knew it was gonna be fun regardless, so a posse of about 10 of us ended at the rooftop of The Standard getting even more intoxicated and eventually wetting our underpants. I got home pretty late/early.

Sunday was a chill day. Me, ‘Freckles’, and ‘Jose Maria’ went for a late brunch at a tiny tapas bar in the village. The food was delicious, the sangria was smooth, and the atmosphere was just right. They kept playing old school Shakira and Mana for my nostalgic Mexican ear’s delight. Another friend, ‘Occhio’, joined towards the end. We left and headed back to mine for more drinks and board games. Later that night, we ended up at the Gansevoort rooftop for a gay party. I wanted to see the DJ, he’s an old ‘friend’ who I’ve fooled around a handful of times. He was nice and charming as always and greeted me with a peck. We didn’t stay long. We went to Le Bain to show ‘Freckles’ the view. Again, somehow we all ended up in the pool. She did so topless claiming she didn’t want to get her bra wet, but if you ask me, that’s just her excuse. She’s a flirt, and why not, she’s beautiful. If I was her, I’d be butt naked. I think I kissed a guy while inside the hot tub. They night just got blurrier, but some how I was sober enough to have a very intense conversation with ‘Freckles’ when we got back to mine. We passed out at 7am.

Monday was 4th of July. We didn’t have set plans, but me being the usual leader of the pack decided to have people over, head to the park, get drunk, and then find a rooftop to look at some fireworks. Prior to that tho, I met up with my old roommate from community college and her man. I persuaded them into having a pop burger and hoped they would prefer it over in-n-out. Us New Yorkers desperately try and find a substitute, but sadly there is none. West Coast, you can have this one.

I took them to the highline. We walked for a bit and then headed back to Billyburg. We stopped by my place, picked up my pooch, and headed to ‘Lucky Dog’ for a quick beer before the park. At about 5pm we were finally sitting at McCarren indulging on outlaw vodka, and chips and guac. There were about 10 of us and the group just kept getting bigger. ‘Latin T’ joined us with his friend and so did my fellow Frenchies who are dating each other. More food. More drinks. More boardgames. So far a successful 4th of July.

That evening, we walked to my friend’s apartment further down into Williamsburg to go to his rooftop party and watch the fireworks. I was very drunk by that point, and I’m sure my friends were too. The fireworks were nice, but they would’ve been nicer sober. ‘Latin T’ left without saying goodbye which got me weirded out a bit. I was too drunk to stay out so I stumbled home and passed out before midnight. My dehydrated body woke me up a bit before 3 in the morning. I decided I’d text my friends and see if they were out. They weren’t. Having slept a few hours, I was sleepless and opted to go to ‘Metropolitan’ for last call by myself. I met a random Domincan Republic man who proceeded to hit on me with his unintelligible “Spanish”. I let him buy me my last drink, left the bar, skyped a bit, and went to bed.

Tuesday was wasted on recovering. I had errands to run but was too lazy to do so. ‘Freckles’ went back home. I stayed in and watched a bootleg movie. I met ‘Latin T’ for a drink as we had planned, and then we had dinner. It was supposed to be a date but two of his friends were there. He’d just been fired and needed friendly support. After dinner, he suggested we go back to mine and watch a movie. I agreed, but told him I had to go meet ‘Jose Maria’ who was having some boy issues later that night. To be honest, I am not certain how I feel about him yet so I’m being evasive and taking it slow. We cuddled while laying on my couch. It was nice. He left at about 11:30 and I headed to the east village to meet up with ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘Tiny Narcissus’. We had a couple of drinks and somehow ended up at Le Bain, yet again. Inebriated, I kissed ‘Tiny Narcissus’ and after unsuccessful attempts of getting them in the hot tub, I went in by myself. Nothing new here. Went home drunk.

Wednesday I actually did run my errands although first I met up with ‘Afterline’ and a boy he had just met at school that morning. We did a nice brunch and then a beer and a game of scrabble. I kicked both their asses. How’s that for ESL? Then ‘Latin T’ came over to print some stuff. It was slightly awkward, but I’m not sure why. After he left I finished some of the many things I had to accomplish, and met up with ‘Tiny Narcissus’ and his friend for dinner. I had a bit of Greek overload that night. ‘Jose Maria’, my Greek answer to the common Greeks, caught up with us at Eastern Bloc. I kissed a certain someone I’ve talked about that I hadn’t kissed in a while. It felt good and validating. I still have it. I left horny and went to sleep.

Thursday I worked. We have a new intern, she’s nice but not as obsessive compulsive as I am and hence a bit slow (in my book). I really have to learn to accept the more sane humans I share this planet with. After work I went to the boonies of Brooklyn to meet up with ‘Jose Maria’ for a BBQ. Although I was starving, I politely declined all food passed in front of me because despite the fact that they were courteous enough to think about us sensiblevores (yes, I made that word up), they were not conscious enough to fully separate the meat from the non meat items. I can’t deal with my faux meat touching something that had once a face. His friends were nice. I randomly talked to a guy who went to med school with one of my best friends in junior high. How unbe*fucking*lievable small is this damn planet?! I can never get over that.

We all played Cranium, which was very slow and interesting considering the smorgasbord of racial backgrounds and nationalities we had going. The lesser adept gave up and went home. We continued playing, and my team lost. Me and ‘Jose Maria’ were supposed to go meet ‘Tiny Narcissus’ and some other friends at Le Bain, but I was tired and lazy and did not feel like doing the usual yet another night. Ironically enough, I ended up at Metropolitan. I met some handsome half Spanish half Irish thirtysomething and made out with him for the rest of the night. Two interesting things happened: he left for a second and asked me to take care of his drink, but when he came back, he apologized and said he didn’t trust drinking out of it so he got a new one. The other thing was that he seemed ok and not pushy at all when I let him know I was not going home with him. I think we both enjoyed the slight differences exhibited from the accustomed New York homosexual interaction. I felt a bit bad for ‘Jose Maria’. Whether he admits it or not, I felt he was a bit annoyed, and why not, I probably would too. I left my Spanish conquistador and headed home. You know the rest.

Today I worked. It was a slow day. It took me the whole day, on and off, to finish this entry, but I feel good about it. I like this new approach. My closing thoughts? Like I said, I’m not sure how I feel about ‘Latin T’. He’s very nice and I find myself randomly thinking about him throughout the day and looking at my phone for signs of interest, yet at the same time there’s something slightly off, something missing. I enjoy being single. I also enjoy having a boy around. There’s an interesting dichotomy here, when you have someone circumventing you, you tend to attract more and more suitors. I’d love to know the chemistry behind this, or maybe it’s just pure coincidence. Either way, I’m not stressing about it. Like I’ve stated, I’m taking it slow, exploring my options, enjoying my time. Today was also SF boy’s birthday. I wished him a happy birthday via Facebook, per my religious habits. He hasn’t responded, nor will he. It doesn’t matter, I woke up in such a great mood, and my day has been getting strangely better and better. An old friend, ‘Buck’, is in town. He stopped by the gallery. We’re going for drinks later. I was meant to go to the Chelsea Hotel for ‘Tiny Narcissus’s’ second to last night, but to be honest, it’s been a delightfully atypical day, and I want it to turn into an even more delightfully atypical night. Tonight I’m playing it straight.

Leave a comment

Tag: ‘Occhio’