The Seahorse Tavern | 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!”

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.”

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21.10.2011

After Midnight (pt. 2)

“Hold on as we crash into the earth. A bit of pain will help you suffer when you’re hurt, for real, cause you were driving me crazy.”

The best part about having ‘Nickle’ in my life is how, by default, I wake up in a great mood. I also wake up earlier, and I get more done despite the fact that I’m usually tired by dinner time. It is ironic that I’m saying this because last Monday I took a nap as soon as he left. Regardless, I had a somewhat productive day. I started by doing a much needed tidying up of my apartment. Once that was done, I went into the city and met up with ‘Fixie’ for lunch and costume shopping. We walked all the way from his job on 40th and 8th to the west village where we randomly ran into ‘Mrs. Bancroft’, ‘Nickle’s’ best friend. She screamed my name from across the street as she was having lunch with a friend and we stopped for a couple of beers and some food.

After leaving the restaurant, we walked over to a bar further east off Bleecker where we had two more really cheap beers. We left briefly because we wanted some happy hour whiskey and finally, right before heading home, we stopped at a few costume shops and I managed to find the hat for my outfit.

*Interesting story of the night: for halloween I plan on being Magritte’s “The Son of Man”, but instead of an apple in front of my face, I’ll do a toothbrush mustache. Yes, you guessed it, Hitler. Of course the controversial outfit hasn’t gone without exactly that, controversy. I spotted the perfect military hat at a store near Union Square and asked to see it. The store assistant said: “You want to see the Hitler hat?” I said: “Yes”. It was perfect, so I decided to buy it but, before paying, I was walking around the store wearing it. Another employee asked me if I needed any help. I asked if, since they had a Hitler hat, they might also have the uniform. The older white woman turned completely Nazi on me and said: “No, and if you ask me that again I will have you escorted out of the store!”. I apologized and mentioned that the other store worker had called it by that name. She responded saying: “Who?! no one here would ever do that, and besides, you’re not going to find that uniform anywhere in New York!”. I apologized again and walked away. Five minutes later, she screamed from across the room: “Excuse me! is that your hat?”, I said: “No, but I’m planning on buying it”, she said: “Take it off until you do!”. I did as instructed and waited to swipe my plastic so it could go back up on my head.*

We left the store and headed to The Abbey. More drinks. The boyfriend eventually met me there. More drinks. I am not quite sure how much I drank but I had a severe anxiety attack. I was having a talk with ‘Nickle’ and freaking out about the future. It’s been really difficult for me to be in this relationship because every now and then I fear of not being with him and what that might entail. I’ve been through breakups before and they’re far from fun and, to this day, I had weighed out the pros and the cons and had decided the good times are not worth the bad times that come after. Of course that all changed when I met this one and thus the hard process of letting go and letting myself enjoy this started.

After a few tears shed, he somehow managed to calm me down and we went to bed.

The next morning I felt like shit, of course. I was hungover and unbelievably paranoid and embarrassed. The babe went to work, ‘Fixie’, who’d spent the night, went home. He texted me a few minutes later asking if I could bring him his keys which he’d forgotten at my place. I obliged.

On the train over to Bushwick I had a break down. I stared crying and freaking out about my feelings and being terribly preoccupied that one day ‘Nickle’s’ gonna get sick of putting up with it. Again, Mr. Worst Case Scenario took over. I got off the train and met ‘Fixie’, he could see it in my face that I was not in the right mindset and hugged me. I left and went back to Williamsburg crying, of course.

Upon getting home I had even more anxiety so I went online to watch some Family Guy and try and take my mind off things. I kept compulsively calling ‘Jose Maria’. All I wanted was to get out of my place and cry in his bed all day. He was nowhere to be found. Thankfully, ‘Viquers’ was and, after explaining to her what had happened and how I felt, she suggested I meet her for lunch at the park. I did not think it twice. I left as soon as I needed to and was glad to do so. Before meeting up, I stopped by Barnes and Noble and got my baby a book he’d been wanting. I then walked to 59th and 5th and then to the Ralph Lauren Headquarters, ‘Mexican Paddington’ and ‘The Queen of the Dammed’ joined for lunch. I was clearly a mess, my face could not lie.

During our fast food Korean meet up, I felt a bit relieved when all my friends explained that it was normal to freak out. I was still going nuts in my head, but it’s comforting to hear that you’re not the only one. All I kept thinking is I can’t wait till we’re past this and turn into boring Lesbians, except I doubt we’ll be boring.

‘Jose Maria’ finally called, I told him I was coming over. I’ve never been to his place so he for some reason freaked out and started cleaning. The last thing I could care about was how his place looked, all I wanted was to lay down and cry myself to sleep. I walked to his apartment on the UES and started my day of healing. We talked, we ate, we talked some more, I got slapped. He indeed made me feel better because, despite me always teasing him that he has no experience in this because he’s never had a serious relationship, he sometimes come up with the right thing to say.

I left at around 7 pm to go meet ‘Nickle’ at The Seahorse Tavern. I talked to my parents on the way there and told them about my moment. My mom also mentioned things that made me feel better and whilst talking to her I saw my man walking down the street. An automatic smile just arched up on my face. We had a few drinks and then left to go back to SoHo to meet with ‘Mrs. Bancroft’ to celebrate her two new jobs. More drinks at Eight Mile Creek, more drinks at Spring Lounge, more drinks at The Abbey, then bed. I was still a bit on edge but way better than the past 24 hrs.

Wednesday I worked but since I was exhausted I just went home after. ‘Fixie’ and ‘Viquers’ texted me that they were and The Abbey so I met them for a beer. I explained to them my past two days and they talked some sense into me. I had plans to meet with ‘Jose Maria’ for a drink and did so after my friends went home. I took the train back into the city, freaked out a bit, and saw them at Ten Degrees. I stayed for a few drinks and then walked to The Church. I hadn’t been in a bit and I missed my old church goers. I didn’t stay for long, had two drinks, talked to ‘Handsome Wednesday’ and DJ and walked back to Ten Degrees to meet up with the babe who had been drinking somewhere with ‘Mrs. Bancroft’. Before we even ordered a drink we decided to leave and head back to The Abbey.

Once in Brooklyn, more drinks ensued. Another drunken night, and then we passed out.

Thursday the day started as usual, early morning with ‘Nickle’ and then work. My papa (‘Nickle’s’ pet name) came to pick me up and we headed to a new gay cowboy bar in Hell’s Kitchen to meet up with one of his friend. The bar was annoying and so was the usual HK crowd, a mix of Manhattan gay stereotypes who are often boring and one dimensional. It reminded me why I hardly ever go there. ‘Nickle’ texted me mentioning he was bored, and then he texted ‘Mrs. O’, who lives around the block, to come meet us and the night got better. We got pretty drunk and left for Spring Lounge to meet ‘Mrs. Bancroft’ for her first day at her new job. Again, we didn’t stay for long.

We got back to Brooklyn safe and sound. Once we were inside my building we had a cute moment on the stairs. It reminded me of the song that’s inspired this and the past post. After a brief one on one, we stumbled to my bed and passed out.

Like I’ve stated, it’s been a long, hard process. I am often more of a mess than I need to but, somehow, this man often says the right thing and then all is well for a brief moment. I’m aware relationships take time effort and, for the first time ever, I’m willing to truly put in both. I have the endurance of a fucking Arctic tern and will keep going forever, let’s just hope he does too.

“We’ll stagger home after midnight, sleep arm in arm in the stairwell. We’ll fall apart on the weekend, these nights go on and on and on.”

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”

Tag: The Seahorse Tavern