the.applied.process.

wit. honesty. everyday ramblings.

Tag: ‘The Greeks’

10.12.2011

King Of Pain

“There’s a little black spot on the sun today. It’s the same old thing as yesterday. There’s a black cat caught in a high tree top. There’s a flag-pole rag and the wind won’t stop.”

We were back in our bed and it felt great to wake up in it. Without wasting much time, we reverted to familiar habits and had our almost daily session of morning sexy time. A joint shower followed, and then work. I only stopped for a second at the office before returning to British Airways to finish our project there. After the 20 minutes of hard work, they threw a party for the inauguration of their new headquarters, and I was privileged enough to be invited.

I was feeling a bit anxious and still tired from the trip so I opted to take advantage of the free wine and numb myself normal. It didn’t work.

I tried distracting myself by befriending the sassy American-Italian receptionist I’d met on previous occasions, but that didn’t do much either.

I drank more and more till it was time to leave. Crippled, I took the train back to work where I was to meet ‘Nickle’ so we could walk the Williamsburg bridge back home and, although we’d planned a quite night just the two of us, we invited ‘Fixie’ to join us for dinner last minute.

After enjoying a cornucopia of grilled root vegetables, a couple of beers, and a few shots of whiskey, we went to the much missed Abbey to continue drinking and continue settling in to our mode de vie. Bad idea. I was still exhausted from the trip and that, plus the alcohol, plus my usual insanity ended up colliding into one massive clusterfuck of anxiety. I blew up. I am not exactly sure when, how, or why but it wasn’t pretty.

The bits and pieces I remember do not paint a pretty picture. I was uncontrollably emotional and somehow I managed to tell both ‘Fixie’ and ‘Nickle’ to leave me to my own self. Luckily, they were smart enough to fight me back and keep me in check. I, apparently, was also telling my babe not to leave because he was having a moment too and was about to step out. Like I said, I’m not really sure what went on but eventually I passed out with minimal damage done.

Wednesday I tried to pick up the pieces. ‘Nickle’ woke me up just as he was about to leave for work. Like I mentioned, I’m sure I was extremely exhausted because normally I wake up with him. He kissed me and said everything was alright. I walked to the kitchen table to find a note that read “Don’t let me fuck this up, please! I love you.” Are you kidding me!? I’m really not sure what happened, but what I am certain is that I should be the one writing such things. I laid in bed hoping I didn’t have to go to work because I was a complete emotional mess. Still exhausted. Still hung over. Still exposed.

I got up and talked to ‘Fixie’ who gave me his own version of the night. It was also spotty, but comforting in a weird way. I was not looking forward to work because I don’t like my job anymore. There! I said it. It does not bring me the joy and distraction from the rest of my life than it used to. Now I go to work because I have to. Because of my integrity. Because I care. Other than that, there really isn’t anything appealing. I practically work for free. I no longer want to be associated with the image the new boss has brought. I slowly and surely feel like I care less and less because other than me and a coworker, nobody seems to do so! Alright! Enough venting… back to the story.

I did end up taking a shower, freaking out, sucking it up, and going to work. Refer to the title. The bf and I made plans to have dinner together and have an early night. That thought lasted for a second. The lovely ‘Jose Maria’, ‘Viquers’, and ‘Fixie’ asked to meet for drinks, and ‘Nickle’ suggested going to Solas before venturing off to the ramen spot where we ate the second date we ever had. I, of course, obliged. I used to get mad about stuff like this, but I’ve come to realize that I shouldn’t. Although I often wish we could just go home, I can’t deny that I love to drink and go out. Maybe that’s the whole problem, it annoys me that I can’t say no although I really think I should sometime… but then again we go back to the thinking. I think too often. I think too much. I’m thinking. Right now. As I’m typing. More on that later…

And so we did. We ended up at Solas where, despite having agreed that maybe we should stop on the shots, we backtracked to “we’ll only take shots when offered, and not ask for them ourselves”. Who am I kidding? We are our own worst influence.

We left after a couple of beers and a couple of shots. To be honest, I did not feel anywhere near drunk. We nixed the noodle bar and somehow we ended in the middle of a shut-down 12th street at Motorino’s. Obama was dinning a few blocks west. We talked about the previous night and he reassured me I had his full support. It was all going well. I fell in love again. Deeper. Harder.

After the presidential caravan sped down the street just as we were ready to leave, we were allowed to step out into the sidewalk. We took the train back to Brooklyn and off into The Abbey we went. More unnecessary drinks and after taking a wrong turn somewhere between sanity and typical me, I lost it again. There was a little intervention performed. To my luck, everybody loves me and was trying to calm me down and be there with ‘Nickle’ who I feel like sometimes gets scared and does not know what to do with me. I’m not sure how much longer we stayed out.

Thursday morning we woke up to find all of our clothes strategically scattered around my room and spilling into the living room. We both could not remember what happened. And just like the weather, after the storm came the calm. We were being extremely affectionate with each other to the point where we fooled around, passed out, fooled around again, took a shower, and ‘Nickle’ ended up being late to work. He suggested we meet for lunch, but since we had already had our share of eating ass and sucking on dick, we figured we were pleasantly satiated for the afternoon. Instead, I skyped with ‘Jose Maria’ who gave me his always insightful two cents to the evening: we need to stop this cycle because it’s not going to be pretty later. I agreed.

I went to work with the same attitude and excitement I’d been having the past few days except this time I was a bit distracted daydreaming about the fact that I was going to see my old shrink for the first time in 21 months right after work! Right at 7pm I flew out the door and into the uptown 6 to go to 43rd and 2nd for a much needed paid 90 minutes of venting.

I should probably not disclose the exact details of my now reinstated weekly visits, but I will say this: the first time was eye opening. I was anxious and unstable the whole hour and a half and, although I felt somewhat comforted, I also felt more scared. I suppose it’s normal to feel that way since I was about to start tackling some skeletons that, just like I did, need to come out of the closet.

I left the shrink raw. First thing I did? I updated my Facebook status to state just that. I called ‘Jose Maria’ who instructed me to do anything but meet ‘Nickle’ since I was probably too emotional to do so. Instead, he suggested I come to Balthazar to meet him and the Greeks for ‘Tiny Narcissus’s’ going away dinner. I followed instructions.

The whole time I kept debating whether I wanted to drink or not and what time it would seem fitting to leave without making it seem like all I wanted to do was run into my baby’s arms and fall asleep on his chest. I drank. We ate. I calmed down for a second and before I knew it, we were paying for the bill and on our way out. The Greeks were going to The Standard and, although that sounded somewhat appealing since I hadn’t been there in months, I opted to join ‘Jose Maria’ for a couple of drinks at 10 Degrees so I could give him my two cents on the bartender who he currently fancies.

We took a cab to the bar and I continued to try and make sense of the plethora of emotions I was feeling. Nothing was coming out as expected. I wasn’t making much sense. I continued drinking and blabbering and going back and forth between thoughts. Useless. I made plans with ‘Nickle’ to meet at 11:45pm. It was 12:15am and I was still at the bar. I took a cab back to my place where I was supposed to meet the boyfriend, but I texted him right after getting off the bridge to find out that he was still at the bar where he’d been. I was a bit disappointed because that’s what I do. Sometimes I expect people to read my mind, and in my  mind I expected him to be home or at least on his way there. I let it go and just decided to meet him for a couple of more drinks. We cabbed it back home at a semi-decent hour and went to bed.

Upon waking up that Friday morning, ‘Nickle’ brought up a much obvious point: shots get us too crazy and we should probably refrain from taking them every single time we go out. He attributed his moment of Eureka to a talk he had with an old friend the previous night. Whatever it was, I was happy that one of us was actually thinking. No, I’ve never been a shot enthusiast, but I also don’t mind them, and I too practice other unwise behaviors I should probably reevaluate.

We were being lazy and really hung over so we didn’t shower. We’d been getting a lot into the intoxicating natural sent of our pits and, with that being established, we decided to skip the morning primping and instead add insult to injury by biking to work. Also, the bike ride would mean that later that night we’d have to bike back, and thus not get as wasted as we usually do. Yeah right…

I spent my day at work nursing my ill liver. I wanted to have a somewhat chill night so I emailed my boyfriend about a movie that had just opened and that I really wanted to see. The email went to Bulk Mail and right before I was about to leave, I texted him to ask why I never heard back. He mentioned he never saw the email and that he’d already made plans with friends to which I was, of course, invited. Drinks ensued at Solas.

Upon arriving, his friends noted that I was a bit off. They were right. I was. I’d been. On occasion, I still am. I blamed tiredness and the remnants of our exhausting Midwest road trip. They bought my story which bought me enough time to drink myself sane.

We were all hungry so we walked over to a ramen spot for some noodles. After food, some of the wiser crowd went home, the other went to a club, we were going to pick up our bikes and ride home but instead ended up back at Solas. We stayed for a couple of drinks till I received a text from the Greeks begging us to come to The Chelsea Hotel for ‘Tiny Narcissus’s’ last night out. With our best interest clearly in mind, we decided to oblige.

After the drunken bike ride to Chelsea, we finally arrived to our destination. We went in and danced and drank for a bit. I was a tad concerned of ‘Nickle’ and the Greeks getting along. They’re from two separate worlds in many different ways. I, being somewhere in the middle, can go one way or the other, but asking either of the other ends to trek to the opposite side is a bit more challenging. Regardless, he did better than I expected and, after losing himself in a few good tunes (I knew he’d like the music), we left to bike home. Big mistake.

Less than a block into my bike ride I stupidly ran into a parked SUV and hurt my leg. The numbing ethanol flowing through my veins provided just the right amount of anesthesia to allow me to get back on the bike and ride to the L train to somehow get home crippled but safe.The whole trip, ‘Nickle’ insisted on helping me out but I stubbornly kept trying to prove myself I could do it on my own so I wouldn’t let him. I ended up paying the price the morning after.

Saturday morning was my second of three intensive visits to the shrink. I woke up early and took a cab to her office as my man stayed home to run some much needed errands. The session was more intense than before. She commenced our talk with an apology for having, according to her, fallen for my showmanship and having spent a year worth of therapy dealing with issues which she claimed I used to mask the true underlying source of my anxiety. I’d go into the specific details regarding my homosexuality, money, codependency, and emotional withdrawal, but basically, it all boils down to daddy and mommy issues.

I left her office even more raw than before and even more terrified. The first thing I did was I called ‘Nickle’ to ask him if he was sure he wanted in because, if I was going to do this, I was probably going to have to do this with him by my side and, although it’s my own battle and I’m good at doing things on my own, sometimes I do need the support. He said he would and I firmly believe his words.

I left therapy and headed for work with an open wound. The day was not easy. What else is new?

That night, we made plans to go to the movies and then have dinner with ‘Martha’ and ‘Mrs. O’. After our first option was sold out, we ended up at The Angelika watching Martha, Marcy, May, Marlene which left a very sour taste in both our mouths and made me feel both hopeless (that I’ll never get better) and hopeful (that I’m not as fucked up as the main character). After the movie, we ventured to the awfully camp Hell’s Kitchen. We had a sip of wine at ‘Martha’s’ and then some food at a restaurant around the corner somewhere on 9th and the 40’s. Dinner was pleasant. From there we went to a dive bar a few blocks north to have a nightcap before heading back to Brooklyn. We took two shots and downed two beers. I received a text from a friend who used to live in the city but now lives in LA to inform me she was in town for the night and invite me to my other friend’s apartment for a drink since it was on the way home. We left Hell’s Kitchen and hailed a cab. Apparently, I had a moment in the cab. I do not remember the ride quite well. I do remember, however, stopping by my friend’s. I’m not sure how long we stayed but I assume it wasn’t long. We took another cab home and next thing I know (or… don’t know, actually) I was passed out and wasted.

I woke up on Sunday morning earlier than I wanted to because I wanted to make breakfast for us. I finished the remainder of the soyrizo ‘Ceviche Mama’ had mailed us from LA and made another scramble. I nixed the shower and ran out the door to my third and last shrink appointment. This time around, I felt more reassured than the previous two, and actually left feeling hopeful instead of devastatingly hopeless. I’d like to say that I think this is a good thing, but “worst case scenario” me irrationally thought already that it’s just that I was on a high, rather than a low, and that eventually it’ll all go back to the shitty usual. C’est la vie. The funniest thing about this is how I can totally recognize my behavior patterns, yet I feel completely powerless against them.

As planned, I walked over to the southeast corner of Central Park to meet ‘Nickle’ for a daytime date at the Guggenheim. On my way there, I spotted the holiday Lady Gaga workshop entrance at Barney’s and suggested to my babe that we check it out because, you know, that’s what the gays do. We spent about an hour and eighty-five dollars and then we got back on track. We decided to walk up by the park on 5th ave towards the museum because, you know, that’s what cute gay couples do on a Sunday afternoon. We got side tracked yet again, and instead of heading to the Gug, we ended at the Met. I became a member of my favorite museum in New York and we dilly dallied for a few hours till we decided to forget about the Maurizio Cattelan exhibit and just head to The Seahorse Tavern  for some early dinner before heading back to Brooklyn.

Dinner was splendid. We obviously had drinks but we limited the shots to just two. We were doing progress.

Our Sunday all day date continued with the obvious: a movie. We met up with ‘Fixie’, ‘Clive’, and ‘Gwen’ for a double (and a half) date to watch The Muppets. The movie was exactly what was needed to redeem the experience of watching the other utterly depressing movie the night before. It was light, it was witty, it was funny, it was right. My only complaint was that I was feeling a bit anxious and sometime towards the end a girl sitting right behind me had an epileptic seizure that scared the shit out of everyone inside the theatre. All I kept thinking as I stared in fear was that I was even more afraid of being in a similar situation and not knowing what to do. Yes, sometimes the anxiety is that much.

We left the theatre and walked over to a bar called The Boat where they were having x-mas craft night. We started drinking without any shots in mind and I frantically tried to keep myself busy to keep myself from giving in to the extraordinarily high levels of anxiety I was feeling. I was on the edge and neither the alcohol, nor the crafts were helping with my manic state. After a few drinks I managed to control it to the point where it was bearable. Because of my mania, I outcrafted everyone in the room and the bartender rewarded me with a shot. Just before leaving, two more followed.

We all disbanded and we walked back to the G train to head north to Williamsburg.

The train ride was a bit better. My babe noticed my state and commented on it. I told him that sometimes I just really want to control it all by myself so that’s why I chose not to ask for help. We went home, talked for a bit, I freaked out for a few, and then we crowned the amazing day with some much wanted butt sex just before going to bed. I didn’t use a condom.

That week is probably one of the most emotionally draining weeks I’ve had in a long time. I ripped some bandages, created new wounds, and reopened some old ones. It is the first time in a really long time that I’ve felt scared. Scared of myself, but not in a “teenage crazy” kind of way. I know my place in this world, and I’m not going anywhere. My only comment is that, just how I told my shrink, I never did plan for much of a future, and now that things are going great with work and the boyfriend, I’m just absolutely terrified of it. I don’t know how to act, and I fear I’m just going to make mistakes and lose everything. Mom and Dad issues.

I love my man, and the whole condom situation meant more than a careless act (like many people might think). I had promised myself I would never do that again after my ex, not because I was cheated on, but because I didn’t think I could ever develop that level of trust towards someone else. Am I worried about STD’s? Of course! I’m the king of hypochondria. Do I think he will give me something? Absolutely not! Unless he’s very secretly having random unprotected sex when he’s at work, I know he’s clean and he wouldn’t ever think to jeopardize us. How would I react if something happened? To be honest, I can live with an STD, you take a pill and you go on with your day. The real killer is the loss of trust. There are definitely no pills in the whole universe to recover that.

“I have stood here before inside the pouring rain with the world turning circles running ’round my brain, I guess I’m always hoping that you’ll end this reign, but it’s my destiny to be the king of pain.”

1 Comment
21.10.2011

After Midnight (pt. 1)

“I can’t get my feet up off the edge, I kinda like the little rush you get when you’re standing close to death and you’re driving me crazy.”

It’s been forever since my last entry. I’ve been a bad writer but in my defense, I’m in love. I’ve been busy with ‘Nickel’ and although I have great things to write about, I’ve also been swamped with work and too hung over to focus… but fear not, here’s the first part of my past week and some change.

Last Wednesday was a long crazy day at work. Crazier than usual. We had one day between private events so I was overloaded with crews from both events packing and unpacking for the respective soirees. I had made plans with the Greeks to maybe have dinner at the Fatty Crab but for one reason or another it didn’t happen. Instead I called my babe and met up with him and his friends at Solas, he had plans to go with his friend to somewhere in south Brooklyn to check out the neighborhood before his friend settled on an apartment there. Of course we had more drinks than necessary and at about tenish we took the train to suburbia.

The hood was fine. Lots of brownstones, lots of brown people. We wanted to have dinner at some fried chicken place but sadly it was closed so we just walked till we found a bar we found appropriate and ate some southern food there. The bar, cheaply but aptly decorated, was nice, a potential good spot for future meet ups.

The whole night, I could sense ‘Nickle’ wasn’t in the right mood. After leaving the neighborhood we went back to The Abbey, as usual. We had a few more rounds of drinks and yet another long talk. For the first time ever, I managed to freak my man out. I casually mentioned that I see myself coming home to our apartment and seeing him waiting for me. He didn’t take it as casual as I meant it and got scared about the idea. Later I found out why, part of his baggage has to do with moving in with his ex, and it all made sense. I reassured him that I wasn’t pressuring him, and that I just meant that if he plans of having a life together with me, it only makes sense that at some point we need to stop paying two rents and start sharing closet space. A few days later, I cleaned a drawer for him.

Thursday the combination of alcohol and touchy conversations had me feeling a bit sick but, again, I was drowning in stuff to do at work so I barely had time to indulge my anxiety. That night we hosted an event by NASA and I got to meet Buzz Aldrin. I’d made plans to go see Sleep No More with my babe and his friends for his first time (and my second), so I spent the first two hours of the evening devouring the bite size hors d’oeuvres and drinking the various free cocktails I was being passed so I was in the right mood for the play.

I left at around 7 pm and met ‘Nickle’ and his friends for my second go at the previously underwhelming show. This time, I had a better experience. We gave it the first go together and at some point, despite wanting to be attached to his hip, I told him he should explore on his own. We all met back at the lobby bar, interchanged our annecdotes (mine much different that my first time there), and left to a nearby bar for a couple more drinks.

Before said bar, we grabbed a quick bite at a nearby deli and smoked a few ciggys. The night was slow from there. A few rounds later we were on our way back to Brooklyn and ready for bed.

Friday I purposely showed up to work a bit late. Again, I wanted to avoid the post-event clean up. I spent most of the day nursing my hang over and preparing for the night. ‘Nickle’s’ best friend was in town and judging from the first time I met him, I knew we’d be puking and stumbling back home. Not very different from our usual tho.

The babe picked me up at around close time and we walked over to Solas to dive into the craziness. Shots. That’s all I have to say. I was a bit nervous about the night. I of course wanted to hang out with the boyfriend, but I also wanted to give him some alone time with his bestie and I wasn’t sure if I was gonna feel left out. Being the amazing man he is, he did make me feel how he always says I should feel: “like the center of his world”. Shots.

The night turned into an insane, free and vastly flowing alcohol feast. We were rolling about 20 deep and I had more fun than I thought I would. Shots. His best friend, ‘Seek’, was already drunk, just like the first time I met him, except this time I got more quality time with him. I had a great time bonding and rebonding with my papa’s crew.

The plan included a dinner which never happened. Instead, we just picked up a quick refueling slice and walked over to The Boiler Room. Shots. More friends showed up. At some point I threw pepperonis at the crowd. Shots. ‘Seek’ was clearly in need of a soft place to lay before he lost complete control and crash into something hard. ‘Mrs. O’, ‘Seek’s’ beautiful sister, responsibly took him home. We left as well and cabbed it back to where else, The Abbey.

I’d continue trying to write about the night but by this point it would all be a work of fiction. I don’t remember what happened.

Saturday my babe got his ink cherry popped. We went to Three Kings, a tattoo shop in Greenpoint, to introduce him to his new addiction. Both him and ‘Seek’ got a unicorn on their leftarm. Again, I wanted to give him his space, but I just can’t get enough of him, and despite my stupid fear of feeling left out or intrusive, I wanted to start making memories with my lover. I constantly get a bit jealous of his relationship with his friends, I just wish I had met him earlier and had been around for all the insanity I’ve been told has happened.

The tattoo sesh went spectacular. I was running very late for work but I was glad to have been there. I finally got to my job 4 hours later than my scheduled time, and I was only there for a brief 180 minutes. I did nothing productive.

I left and rushed back to meet with the motley crew at The Abbey. As expected, they were already well on their way to booze land. ‘Nickle’ was MIA. Earlier that day I’d given him my keys so he could pick up his bike and take it home. Of course that didn’t happen. They’d just started drinking right after the tattoos and continued steadily for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. He showed up a bit later after being at my place and taking a shower. He mentioned he felt uncomfortably comfortable doing so and said he’d love to share a place with me one day. I smiled.

More drinks, more shots. ‘Jose Maria’ showed up for a bit, I left the crazies for a split second and went to a friend’s birthday for a drink’s time, and hurried back to my handsome. By that point I was beginning to black out and forget parts of the night. ‘Seek’ and company were physically gone. ‘Nickle’ and I were mentally gone.

At around midnight we went back to mine and passed out.

Sunday was one of the best days I’ve had in a really long time. I purposely took it off so I could spend the whole 24 hours with my man. I work Wednesday to Sunday, and he works Monday to Friday so we never actually have a free day together.

We woke up and watched ‘A Single Man’. I wanted him to see the movie because there’s a scene where the main character and his younger boyfriend are sitting on a couch across from each other reading a book, and I’d mentioned to him that scene makes me think of us.

After the movie, he made me pancakes with cinnamon apples. I’m sure they’re always delicious but… doesn’t food taste even better when you’re in love?

The original idea was to stay in all day but, to my pleasant surprise, he’d  scored us tickets to The Creators’ Project in DUMBO which I was planning to go to, but had opted not to because my day was reserved for my babe. We finished eating, fooled around on the couch, took a shower, and biked to the bike shop to get our bikes fixed, and then to the art show.

We spent most of the day looking at the exhibits, running into familiar faces, and hanging out one on one. Sure, we weren’t locked inside my apartment all day, but it was still just the two of us. Mission accomplished.

At around 6 in the evening, we grabbed a bite and a drink with his friends, went back to see one last installation that required no day light to be fully appreciated, and biked over the Brooklyn Bridge to Manhattan to then get on the 5 train and up to The Seahorse Tavern, one of his friend’s bar, in the Upper East Side. Again, more craziness ensued. I was drunkenly making declarations of love to anyone who would hear (or anyone who I could force into hearing me), we turned the gastropub into a club, and drunkenly danced to the best of our abilities.

At the end of the night, we took an emotional cab ride home. My baby was tearing up and sad to see his best friend go back home, and surprisingly enough, I was too. The weekend served it’s purpose. Despite being secretly jealous of all the years and memories they’ve had together, I really enjoyed ‘Seek’, and I was ready to make some of my own with both of them. I have a hunch we won’t be remembering many, ‘Seek’ seems like my kind of lush.

“All along we talked of forever, I kinda think that we won’t get better. It’s the longest start, the end’s not too far away. Did you know? I’m here to stay”

Leave a comment
11.10.2011

Halo

“Remember those walls I built? Well baby they’re tumbling down.”

All I really wanted was to get out that plane and rush home to my boyfriend. In a surprisingly quick and effortlessly streamlined turn of events, the plane landed, the bags came, the cab was waiting, the traffic was minimal, and I was home faster than I’d expect to be. I texted ‘Nickle’ that I was ready and waiting for him. He showed up 10 minutes after I put my luggage down.

After the romantic movie reconnecting moment we hung out at my apartment for a bit, planned on going out for a drink to The Abbey, but ended up delaying that a bit for some quality sexy time. Drinks came eventually, but only a couple. All I wanted was to sleep next to my handsome and my pup.

Wednesday I had a really long day at work. Not being in for a few days really piles up so despite being tired, I rolled with the punches and worked it out. I was still on my “glad to be back in New York” high so time flew by. I made plans with ‘Fixie’ and ‘Viquers’ to grab a very inexpensive bite and some drinks but, of course, I had my own personal agenda: ‘Nickle’, so I managed to butter them up with a beer at my work, and then suggested we go meet my man and his lovely friend before doing whatever it is we were originally going to do.

We walked east down Spring and ended up at Milady’s where ‘Nickle’s’ friends managed to get us absolutely wasted for pennies and dimes. The start of the evening went great. We munched on some fried finger foods and drank and smoked like we usually do. I stepped outside for a second and talked to my friend ‘Chet’ who’s been going through a messy breakup and has been having a hard time dealing with it. I didn’t let him indulge much since his belle is one of my best friends and no one likes hearing negative things about their besties. I told him I had to get back to ‘Nickle’ which was my real reason for hanging up the phone. I just can’t get enough.

We had a few more unnecessary rounds and left. ‘Fixie’ and ‘Viquers’ went home. I headed with ‘Nickle’ to “the church” to go meet ‘Jose Maria’. From this point on the night gets blurry. Obviously, we kept on drinking. I remember making a point to introduce my man to DJ both to let ‘Nickle’ know I was dead serious about him and to let DJ know the same. We left shortly after and stumbled home.

Thursday was another unbelievably busy day. I felt like a true Mexican doing extensive physical work but, thankfully, the day flew by again. I left work later than usual and met up with ‘Jose Maria’ and a couple of the Greeks to have dinner before meeting a new Facebook friend I’d been meaning to have a drink with. We tried Hecho en Dumbo but due to my time restrictions decided to go across the street to Gemma. Dinner was not the best. I was still all smiles thinking about, who else, my man. We got a table later than I hoped for, ordered drinks and food, and waited a good 40 minutes till I switched to my usual “issues with service” mode and left my friends. It was 10:15 pm, I was meeting my friend at 10:30, and my food was nowhere to be seen. My Greek friends were not too pleased but, again, I was having a fit and there was no stopping me.

I hailed a cab and rode across the bridge and into Brooklyn to end at Metro. I ordered a drink, waited for my friend and smoked a cigarette. He showed up 5 minutes later. It was the first time meeting him in person. I had added this guy on Facebook a few weeks ago when I did one of those stupid Facebook apps that show you people who you have the most in common with and he happened to be, according to Facebook, the one in New York who matched me the best. After a few drinks, some dumplings, and a few cigarettes (on my part), I can see what Facebook meant. He was a writer who had a similar sense of humor and outlook on life. I told him I had to leave and meet my prince charming and so I did. He took the train back to Connecticut.

I stopped at The Abbey for the usual nightcap and my ‘Nickle’ fix. Not sure what he’s doing to me, but I’m clearly addicted. Hugs, kisses, “I love you’s”, and bed time. This crazy stupid Mexican was crazy stupid happy.

Friday was busy, but not as busy. It was nice to catch a break. I was also glad to have one of those nice 6 o’clock wine drinking evenings with ‘The Cock of the North’. It had been a while, but it was well welcomed. I had asked ‘Nickle’ to come with me to my friend’s birthday party around the corner and being the pleasing gentleman he is, he agreed. He met me at work, enjoyed some wine with me and my coworkers, and we walked over to El Portal for a burrito and a quesadilla. I’m trying to satiate him with as much south of the borderness as he can handle. We left the restaurant and met ‘Fixie’ who was also going to the party. Sadly, he’d been recently broken up with and was not in the best of moods. It is not my place to discuss the implications of said break up but all I know is that I’m here to help him in whatever he might need. We’re going to Florida next month.

The party was interesting. I was excited to show off my new man to my old friends but I forgot that the art school and fashion crowd is not always the easiest to swallow. Overall, it was fine, but there were a few moments that weren’t necessary, for example, ‘The Queen of the Dammed’ made a dumb comment on the age difference between me and ‘Nickle’. He’s 11  years my senior and that’s the least of my concerns, but someone thought it was worth putting it out there. Another friend mentioned that our dress style is completely different. Again, who cares?! I forgot, fashion kids do. We didn’t stay for long, the ambiance wasn’t right. I did my round of goodbyes and told ‘Fixie’ to come with us if he wanted to leave. He said he’d catch up later.

We strolled to a bar somewhere on Ludlow where two of his friends were bar tending. Upon arrival, I was greeted with the same excitement I’ve grown accustomed to. Apparently, this man talks wonders of me. It feels good to go places where they’re happy to see you even when they’ve never met you. Consequently, the bar tending girls kept the alcohol flow strong and steady. ‘Fixie’, ‘Mexican Paddington’, and ‘The Queen of the Dammed’ stopped by for one last round and then we all took off. Before heading home I asked if we could go see ‘Jose Maria’ because I’ve been kind of neglecting him. Again, my prince obliged.

We drunkenly walked over to Ten Degrees and saw the Greeks for a split second. We were already wasted.

I was having so much fun that after leaving I wanted to stop for one last round at The Abbey. The moment we stepped through the door people pointed out how drunk we were. I was. I was intoxicated with alcohol and drunk in love. The friendly bartender poured us a night cap and sent us to bed. I have to say that despite my hypocritical bitching about ‘Nickle’ drinking too much sometimes, I had one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time. I love having him as a partner in crime, and I also love that we’ve both agreed that every now and then it’s fine to get stupid.

The weekend was off to a good start. Saturday work. Standard. I spent most of the day gossiping with ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ and training the new intern who sadly happens to not be the brightest crayon in the box (which is ironic because she’s black… I’m not a racist, I just enjoy racist jokes). Come 6 o’clock we opened another bottle of wine and started the evening. My amazing boss and great friend, ‘The Cock of the North’, invited us all to Sweet and Vicious for a drink after work. ‘Nickle’ came to pick me up and we had a couple of strong margaritas. Apparently, during one of my drink fetching rounds my boss mentioned to ‘Nickle’ how happy he was for me. I am telling you, it gets better and better each day.

As planned, we left the bar to go grab a slice of pizza and walk over to a bar on 7th and 2nd for his friend’s birthday (what is up with these women getting pregnant in January!). I experienced the same usual welcome. They uttered the usual “So nice to meet you”, “We’ve never seen ‘Nickle’ this happy”, “You’re very lucky”, all of which I agree. We ordered a couple of drinks, smoked a few cigarettes, and I freaked out briefly when some guy was showing interest in my handsome. I am not a very jealous person at all, but I’m still in disbelief this man, who gets praised everywhere he goes, has picked me out of everyone out there. I am aware that I too am quite the catch, but I’m also aware there are better. Anyway… I constantly try to not over think it and just enjoy my luck.

We left his friends to walk down to The Delancey to meet my friends for another birthday party (seriously… January!). After trying to decipher where they were (the place has multiple stories and they’re not all easily accessible), we finally found them. We were already quite drunk and tired so we only had a couple of whiskey gingers, congratulated the birthday girl, and headed home.

We had a brief talk about my anxiety right around the corner. I love that he’s so understanding and willing to work with me. I suggested that instead of cabbing it, we just walked the Williamsburg bridge. Romantic. We talked and kissed and stopped and talked and kissed and stopped all the way to The Abbey. Again, plastered, we had a nightcap and headed home. Another happily drunken night to remind me to shut up and stop complaining sometimes.

Sunday I had to open. The train wasn’t running so I took a cab to the city. ‘Nickle’ tagged a long and picked up his bike in front of my work. It was a slow day and only me and the intern were going to be there today. Again, the intern proved to be quite useless when I asked here to do very basic computer stuff. I had so much hope for her sassy attitude and willingness to learn, but I think it’d be too time consuming to shape her into something of use. On top of that, I didn’t have the best day. I kept seeing pictures on Facebook of ‘Nickle’, and other friends out and about enjoying the great weather and here I was stuck in my 12 to 7. The only redeeming thought was my movie date later that night.

The plan was to grab a bite and go watch Limelight. ‘Nickle’ didn’t come till 7:30 which was fine except I really wanted to see him and I wanted to get out early. Regardless, my day took a turn for the better the moment I heard the sound of his bike chain clinking as he was locking it outside the theatre. Tickets, sodas, and caramel corn in hand we sat down to watch a mildly entertaining movie. Upon completion, we walked back to his friends’ bar on Ludlow for a few more rounds, and then to The Abbey to meet the usuals. The night was slow and quiet which was very welcomed because the past two nights we’d barely been able to crawl home. As promised, I told him I’d sleep over at his, and I quote him, “Polish palace” because I don’t work on Mondays and he does, plus I really like his place, so we dropped off my stuff, fed ‘Toto’ and walked over to Greenpoint for some sexy time before catching some Z’s.

Monday he woke up and got ready. He offered I could stay and sleep in, but I figured I’d be better getting up and having an early start. I had lots of plans for the day.

I walked with him to the train and decided to head to the city. I wanted to spend more time with him and I needed to buy some stuff for a couples dinner party I had planned that night with ‘The Cock of the North’, his wife, and my boy. Sadly, my boss texted me within minutes of getting off the train apologizing for not being able to make it. I was a bit bummed but had the dinner party anyway with ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’.

I bought some wine glasses and groceries, stopped by work (even though I didn’t have to come in), helped out  a bit, and headed home to prepare for the night. I quickly cleaned, did some laundry, showered, and started preparing food. ‘Nickle’ showed up at 7 pm promptly followed by ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’. I poured them a glass of wine and continued my cooking. At around 8 pm we dined. The menu consisted of different lettuces salad with a balsamic vinaigrette, some garlic french bread, spinach fettucini with fake bolognese, and some bourbon and vanilla ice cream for desert. I stupidly undercooked the pasta and failed to deliver. Everybody was thankful and happy, but the dinner was not up to par with what I consider my guests deserved.

We spent a few hours watching bad TV and my guests parted one by one. I was left with my man, who’s no longer considered a guest. We talked a bit more, I asked him to have a look at my asshole because I felt a bit weird and I’m a hypochondriac, and then we went to bed. Again, he makes me smile all the time.

At around 6 in the morning we both woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. We had another amazing session of sexy time and got ready for the day. We walked around with ‘Toto’ and some morning beverages till we parted ways. He had to work, I had a doctor’s appointment.

I went into the city and to the M.D. for a new patient physical. The doctor, who happens to be ‘Nickle’s’ as well, was amazing. Despite being annoyed that I had to wait over an hour past my scheduled time, I was really glad to see him. I spent about 45 minutes talking to him about all my itty bitty concerns which made me feel better. My ass is perfectly fine. During the visit, I realized how much I’m enjoying this relationship, and how much I need to work on letting myself enjoy it. I left the office relieved and I walked to work. On my way I talked to my parents about the visit and felt reassured that they’re supporting me in all aspects of my life.

Tonight there’s another event. ‘Nickle’ mentioned he’d stop by, and I can’t wait to flaunt him around even more. I truly feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

“I swore I’d never fall again, but this don’t even feel like falling.”

Leave a comment
16.09.2011

Everybody’s Working for the Weekend

“Everybody’s workin’ for the weekend, everybody wants a new romance. Everybody’s goin’ off the deep end, everybody needs a second chance”.

As I stated, I left DJ’s very excited to finally get a weekend sans boys to catch some breath and spend some time with my other neglected friends. As soon as I got home from the East Village, I got ready for work and biked across the exhausting Williamsburg bridge and into SoHo. I spent the day at work writing on the blog and making plans for future travels with ‘The Lady of Derbishire’. That evening, we left work and went to the Alex Katz opening at Gavin Brown. Openings are somewhat funny to me, just like the fashion industry, the art world is filled with interesting characters and it’s always fun to go to these places and people watch. We stayed for about an hour and then ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ left with a friend for dinner, and I went to one of the Greeks’ apartment to wait for ‘Jose Maria’ and go to dinner ensemble. 

The Greeks had decided to try Fatty Crab. It was a Saturday night and we knew that everywhere we went would have a massive wait, so I jokingly suggested Chipotle. My fast food Mexican suggestion got vetoed promptly. I suggested that if we did do Fatty Crab, we try the one in the Upper West Side which is usually pretty relaxed and not crazy busy. I called the restaurant to make sure we’d get a table before we took a cab all the way up there. I was told that at the most we’d wait 20 minutes, so off we went to unfamiliar territories. One of the Greeks joked: “The Upper West Side is the new hip Saturday night spot”. I felt slightly more like a local, having bypassed the usual and tiring spots/neighborhoods for something much nicer, less crowded, and very understated.

As promised, we were seated promptly. Me and ‘Jose Maria’, being the two Fatty Crab veterans, ordered all the dishes for our virgin friend. On the menu: steamed veggie and pork buns, charred squid, the malay fish fry, two of the daily specials (one shrimp, one fish), some meat dish (which I didn’t partake in), and a healthy lesson in what it means to be gay (or really, just yourself) in New York. Dinner was delicious, as always, the conversation went smoothly, not because my poor Greek friend took it well, but because he is sort of a ditz and it all went right over his head. It was like feeding pearls to the swine, but even though I’m a pescatarian, I sill like my bacon.

After dinner I suggested we go to Hell’s Kitchen for some atypical gay bar fun. Next time I suggest such thing, please shoot me. We were absolutely miserable. I forgot why we never go above the 20’s. A drink’s time is as much as we could all handle, so we left and decided to go 180 degrees from there and into The Eagle. Again, it was going from one extreme to the other, one that I much prefer, but still find equally taxing. I don’t like these niche gays and their niche bars. This time, we stayed for twice as long: two drinks.

Looking to redeem the evening we cabbed it to “church” for my third night in a row. One of the Greeks left, ‘Jose Maria’ tagged along. He was outside smoking a cigarette when I went in to sneak a peak. It was a bit too much, and I was already quite tired and drunk so I went back outside and told him I was just going home. He asked me to chaperone him to Boiler Room where he had some unfinished business with two of his suitors. I reluctantly did because I couldn’t find a cab. After dropping him off, I went outside to have a cigarette, look for a taxi, and managed to hop in a car with two people going to Brooklyn. They dropped me off a few blocks away, I gave them 5 dollars, and I walked home to my lovely dog. My much needed time alone had finally come.

Sunday morning I got to work on time, surprisingly. I was blissfully excited all day and counting the nanoseconds till the True Blood season finale that night. I decided to invite people over for a finale party. Right after work I rushed home, cleaned up my somewhat messy apartment and waited for my guests. Only two people showed up (‘Fixie’ and ‘The Cock of the North’s’ wife), which was quite comfortable and nice. We played the second to last episode and sipped on some Red as we ate some deli sandwiches and discussed the season’s highlights. Once 9 pm hit, the room went silent for a somewhat disappointing hour. The episode was not what I expected, regardless we enjoyed it extensively.

After the post finale wrap up, ‘The Cock of the North’s’ wife left. Me and ‘Fixie’ went out for a few drinks at The Woods where one of the Frenchies was having his farewell cocktails. I didn’t really want to go because I rarely have fun and also I knew he’d just broken up with his ex (as expected by every single person who knows them), and I wasn’t in the mood to hear all the bullshit that comes with that. Regardless, a pickleback or two sounded good. After filling our quota we left and walked to The Abbey for a few more rounds. I was expecting to run into ‘Nickle’ who had just gotten back from his weekend wedding trip in Montauk, but he was still in the city with his best friend. Me and ‘Fixie’ were tired and headed back home to rewatch the season finale. He didn’t last long. I stayed up for a bit longer texting with ‘Nickle’ who ended up coming over after he got back to Brooklyn and stopped by The Abbey to say hi to his friend. I suppose my boy free wedding was over.

“You want a piece of my heart? you better start from start. You wanna be in the show? come on baby, let’s go!”

Leave a comment
19.07.2011

Fags, stags, and drags.

This week has been very eventful, to say the least. It all started last Friday with the arrival of my friend ‘Buck’. He’s one of my old friends who I hadn’t seen in about 3 or 4 years. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I knew he was staying with his friend so I figured I probably would see him a few times for drinks and that’s it. Boy was I wrong.

To my fantastic surprise, he stopped by my work. I screamed his name and gave him a giant hug. The thing about friends like him, is that it doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time you’ve seen each other, it feels like it was only a few hours ago. I was supposed to hang out with ‘Tiny Narcissus’ that night as it was his second before last night in the city, but to be honest, I was tired of the same old gay shit so I decided to plan a straight night. I was going to show ‘Buck’ a proper Billyburg hipster time. We decided to meet at my place for drinks that evening and then go get more drinks around the hood.

Work resumed and I headed home. ‘Buck’ showed up with a couple of his friends and a couple of my friends did so too. The madness started. Shots were shot. Drinks were drank. Smokes were smoked (at least by some of us). First, we hit Union Pool. Normally this is not my bar of choice, but if someone was to do an anthropological study of Williamsburg, Union Pool would be their best bet at capturing the essence of this part of town. Also, it is one of the two places that come to mind to find some tail for a fellow handsome single stag. The other place for that would be The Woods, where we proceeded to go after. I introduced the crowd to the fantastic ‘picklebacks’ (a shot of whiskey chased with a shot of pickle juice… trust me, they’re good). Drank. Danced. Devoured some tacos. All sloshed up we stumbled to our final destination: Lucky Dog. The night gets blurry but I’m assuming we drank more and somehow we ended up home.

Saturday I worked. After work I hurried home, fed the dog, walked the dog, napped, and cabbed it back to the lower east side. I met some friends at Freeman’s for ‘Tiny Narcissus’s’ going away dinner. I was feeling a bit off after the nap. The Greeks took a bit to get there but finally by 9 o’clock we were seated and ordering drinks. Freeman’s is good, but I’m starting to realize not my place of choice. The food is heavy and for some reason I’ve been feeling somewhat orthorexic lately. Regardless, ‘Tiny Narcissus’ gets to decide what we do and I get to follow gladly, it’s not everyday someone leaves this beautiful city to potentially not come back.

I have to say I was a bit annoyed during the dinner. The combination of waking up from the nap, being in company of a couple of annoying Greek QUEENS (and I CANNOT stress that enough), being somewhat left out due to the impolite use of a language I do not speak, and my cellphone being dead had me getting up every few minutes and smoking a ciggy and catching some air.

After dinner I made the executive decision of going to chez Frenchies for a quick drink before ending up at sugarland (per Tiny Narcissus’ request). At said apartment, I was promptly spotted (and hunted) by a very French gentleman who we’ll call ‘Sandpaper’. We talked, smoked, and drank some more. We split ourselves in groups and cabbed it to Brooklyn. On the way there, ‘Sandpaper’ could not keep his hands off me. I was being coy and ladylike despite the fact I knew I was going to eat his face as soon as we got to sugarland. I hurried home, dropped my stuff and waited for ‘Buck’ to come meet, and we headed back to my facial peel.

As soon as I got back to la terre de sucre I hunted down ‘Sandpaper’ and proceeded to give myself an exfoliating make out session. ‘Sandpaper’ was scruffy, hence the nickname, and so am I. Honestly, there’s nothing sexier than the abrasion created by two somewhat bearded men rubbing their scruff together as they kiss. I had told him I wasn’t gonna have sex, but somehow after close to two hours of almost nonstop kissing, we ended up at my place. My friends followed. We bid our guests good night and headed to the bed room. More making out. If I hadn’t been that drunk, the raw pain on my chin certainly would’ve stopped me from continuing to fiercely kiss him. My inhibitions and judgement were not in bed with me and I was ready to potentially fuck him… then he said: “you said no sex”, and went to bed. I enjoyed this.

The next morning we did some more kissing and a couple of hand jobs. We joined the party in the living room and all headed for brunch. I am not very well versed in French etrickquette (yes, my own word) so I wasn’t sure what to expect, but he asked me to invite him for coffee back at my apartment. I offered tea. ‘Buck’s’ friends were meeting us for a quick stroll down the Brooklyn Flea Market and then a trip to the alleged best pizza in New York. ‘Sandpaper’ didn’t even finish his tea so we said goodbye and decided to meet again. He’s not necessarily my type, but he is a persistent motherfucker, and honestly, persistence pays. I’ve seen him a couple of times since.

The Brooklyn Flea Market was uneventful. The pizza quest took about an hour, and although it was REALLY good, I can’t say it’s the best. It was too heavy and shiny (greasy) for my orthorexic taste. After feeling like a beached whale, we spontaneously decided to go to Conney Island. I’d never been and I’ll probably won’t go back for a long time. It is a scary place. The lower income bracket does not appreciate me, and although I try to, it’s hard to have empathy for those who don’t have it for me. Regardless, I had fun. Rode some rides, played some games, rode more rides. We were supposed to go to the Gansevoort that night and possibly Le Bain, but my little princesses required a shower and fresh clothes so we nixed that and drank local. If you want to know what happened just scroll back and reread the third paragraph. The night was somewhat familiar exchanging The Woods for Metropolitan. Nights on autopilot.

Leave a comment