‘The Wife’ | the.applied.process.

03.12.2011

You Da One

“Cause you know how to give me that, you know how to pull me back when I go runnin, runnin tryin’ to get away from loving ya. You know how to love me hard. I won’t lie, I’m falling hard. Yep, I’m falling for ya but there’s nothin wrong with that.”

“I am thankful for Penis” were the words I uttered right before I proceeded to spit on the table the shell of the almond I had just cracked with my teeth. That should give you a preview of the shenanigans that ensued after the exhausting 13 hour overnight drive to Chicago, but I’m getting ahead of myself, first things first.

Wednesday I got up with ‘Nickle’ earlier than usual because we had a very busy and very long day ahead of us. I ate breakfast, showered, made my duffle bag, packed my pooch in his carrier, and called a cab to take me to the west side to drop him off at a pet hotel on Spring and Greenwhich. I then asked the cabbie to wait for me so he could drop me off at work instead of lugging my luggage all the way across town. Half way down the road, I realized I had forgotten my pup’s food.

I didn’t stay too long at work, I had errands to run at British Airways so I left earlyish. I was also in charge of getting to Jersey City before 4pm to pick up the rental car we reserved for the road trip. I got to the Budget offices at around 3pm and dealt with New Jersey incompetence at it’s finest. After about 45 minutes, I had the car and I started my drive back across the Holland tunnel and into the city. I tackled the horrendous commuter clusterfuck that was downtown Manhattan and some how managed to get back to the gallery a couple of hours after I said I’d be back. I googled places to buy the apparently very specific kibble my picky canine eats as I waited for ‘The Wife’ to come meet me since she had asked us for a drive to Ohio. The task proved to be harder than expected and, after a few frustrating phone calls, I finally located the food at a pet store near where ‘Nickle’ works.

We picked up the car from the garage and drove south in the slightly less trafficy sea of cabs and cars. I purchased the food, picked up ‘Nickle’ and ‘Judy’, redeemed my canine mistake, and finally started driving west to our Thanksgiving extravaganza.

Although the drive there and back is probably one of the most significant parts of the trip, it was also one of the most exhausting. Thus, it is kind of hard to describe it because it all just seems to melt into one blurry lapse of no sleep, stress, lots of junk food, shitting in gross toilets, and uncomfortable seating positions.

The first trek was from New York to Jersey to somewhere in the middle of Pensilvania where, after 4 hours of stopping a few times at gas stations and rest stops, ‘Judy’ paid her dues and I took over the wheel. I drove for the next five. A couple of hours into my turn, I dropped off ‘The Wife’ at a bus stop in Cleveland, refilled the gas tank, and drove another for a bit more as ‘Nickle’ performed some illegal acts on me to try and keep me awake and focused. I stopped him somewhere on the Ohio portion of I-90 right as a cop car was shinning its headlights on us. Thankfully there were no arrests.

My boyfriend became the driver right before the sun was about to come out. He drove us through the rest of Ohio and into Indiana where we stopped in Gary for some much needed coffee and breakfast food. By this point, we were all very delirious. ‘Judy’, who’d been sleeping the whole time we were driving, valiantly offered to play chauffeur the rest of the way. She drove us into Chicago as ‘Nickle’ napped in the back, and I continued plucking my nose hairs to stay up and keep her company.

Upon arriving to our destination, I was a bit terrified that our hosts, ‘Seek’ and his family, who had most likely gotten more sleep than us, were going to be ready to start partying because they were excited to see us. For a second, ‘Nickle’ joked about having shots ready for the moment we stepped in, I told him I needed to sleep. Thankfully, everyone was still tired because, even though they had slept more than us, they hadn’t slept enough due to the obvious celebratory air we were all breathing.

After kissing and hugging everyone, I strategically positioned myself on the couch and held my baby’s head next to my chest to lull him to sleep. My plan worked and we napped for a couple of hours.

We woke up in time to freshen up, tag the shower floor with our genetic signature, and go on a booze run. I still needed more sleep, but I figured I’d just start drinking and forget about banal human needs. Indeed the shots and the beers came. Within an hour I had a comfortable buzz. ‘Sarah’, ‘Seek’s’ business partner, was hosting dinner at her place. As instructed, we left for her apartment at around 5pm only to realize that food wouldn’t be ready for another couple of hours. Instead of waiting for solids, we continued drinking our calories at our host’s, and later at a bar around the corner.

After a few more shots, beer, wine, and whatever else we could find, we made it back to dinner just in time for me to be thankful for Penis, and my man to slur how grateful he is to have me in his life. The rest gets blurry.

Some time between the turkey (or tofurkey in my case) and dessert, I tried to help fluff some whip cream only to spill it all over the kitchen floor. I took this as my cue to call it a night and, after talking to ‘Nickle’ about it, we decided to head back to our Chicago home. We didn’t even leave the couch when ‘Judy’ cleverly suggested we take a nap in the coat closet, and wake up a couple of hours later in time for us to join the rest of the crew who were planning on returning to the bar we previously visited. At 2:30 pm, I rose from my slumber in a freak out because I was did not instantly recognize where exactly I was. I got up and went to the shower where I ran into ‘Sarah’ who informed me that everyone had been gone for a few hours already.

Ironically, we fooled around in the closet, had a slice of chocolate pumpkin pie, and passed out again for another much needed few hours.

Friday morning, after a long 12 hour nap, we woke up refreshed and ready for what ever mayhem would ensue. We ate more pie and chit chatted a bit till ‘Judy’ picked us up to go to ‘Hunt’s’ apartment to shower before partaking in some post-Thanksgiving brunch. Another session of stroking each other’s genitals under the shower head, and we were out in the car on our way to a restaurant on West Chicago Avenue who’s name escapes me now. We ate a hearty Midwest meal which we downed with beers and bloody marys, and then we made a quick pit stop at ‘Hunt’s’ vintage store a couple of blocks away before heading North West to the second leg of our holiday road trip: Milwaukee.

Since the reason for us going to Brew City was to visit ‘Judy’s’ family, she offered to drive. The hour and a half trip was nothing compared to the gargantuan overnight cruise we’d taken 36 hours earlier, but I still wasn’t feeling like driving, and I wanted to write on the blog so I didn’t complain. We made a couple mandatory pit stops at gas stations to get more gum, snacks, and junk food, before finally arriving to her parents’ house just in time for dinner.

My favorite part of this part of the trip was the contrast between the more “friend vibe” we had experienced the night before, and the more “family aura” we felt at that time. It was just the break I needed since I am beginning to realize that my anxiety gets worse when I overwork myself.

We devoured some lasagna (or fish, in my case, since I don’t eat warm blooded animals), salad, and whiskey, and then we decided to check if the city lived up to its nickname by going to a few dive bars near the river, but not before trying the staple frozen custard dessert at one of the three different Kopp’s in Milwaukee. Normally this is not something I would crave and, although I didn’t finish it, I do have to admit that the treat was pretty tasty.

The bars in Beertown were just what I would’ve expected. They had a more collegey vibe than our usual watering holes in New York. In true chameleon form, I adapted and partook in a game of darts which, as much as I can adapt it does not mean I’m competent, I lost. We left downtown to head to a party that I don’t remember because I was already wasted. We didn’t stay long either. We ended up back at ‘Judy’s’ in her hot tub for a full 15 minutes before crashing on a futon in the basement.

Saturday morning we left more of our life juice at ‘Judy’s’ parents’ before coming up for some breakfast with the whole family. Our friend ran some errands with her mom, but we stayed behind to take a shower. Instead, we just ended up kissing and taking a quick nap. She came back to pick us up and we went to explore the city during the day. Despite having eaten food a few hours earlier, ‘Nickle’ demanded a hot dog and we obliged. To my utmost surprise, the Midwest establishment was so good I can almost say it was better than our very own Criff Dogs and, yes, they even featured veggie sausages.

We finished our second meal and walked around the local thrift stores as we digested our gluttonous transgression. I am not necessarily the biggest fan of thrifting but, again, this man is making me evolve, I enjoyed it and even purchased a couple of things. We headed back to ‘Judy’s’ to pack our bags and start our drive back to the Windy City.

Before getting back on the freeway, we stopped at Kopp’s yet again to have a fish sandwich and more frozen custard. Yes, that is also something that’s different about me: I now eat like a swine. This time around, we tamed our overstuffed stomachs by walking around the atrium of the Santiago Calatrava designed Milwaukee Art Museum.

After taking the mandatory pictures, ‘Nickle’ finally drove us back to Chicago.

We got back to the city in time for another shower and dinner. My one request during this trip was for some classic Chicago deep dish slices. I was still terribly stuffed from the three meals I’d already consumed but somehow I managed to fit in a slice and some beer. The night, as expected, was going to be a long one and I wanted to make sure I had something to soak up the copious amounts of whiskey and fermented hops I was sure to consume.

The party continued at a bar somewhere in the Ukranian Village called the Innertown Pub. For some reason (I think it was exhaustion) I was a bit antsy, but I decided to just relax, and have a good time with my boy’s friends. The night was really fun. ‘Sarah’ had asked ‘Nickle’ for his cell phone and was looking at our history through text messages which was cute, both ‘Seek’ and his sister, ‘Mrs. O’, kept telling me how happy they were that he was happy with me and, somehow, everything just felt alright with the universe. The anxiety went away.

We finished the night back at the bar where we’d been on Thanksgiving night. More shots, more beers, and at around 3:30 am I passed out.

On our last day in the Midwest, I woke up next to ‘Nickle’ and laid in bed for a bit as we talked about the previous night. He mentioned how he had to pee sometime in the early morning and got up to do so only to see ‘Seek’ still up and drinking. He smoked a hit with him, took a shot, and then went back to bed with me. This was important because part of my worry about the trip was our quitting smoking and if we were going to be able to stay strong amidst all the temptation, and also because he’s usually the one who needs me to help him with the cravings when we’re drunk. He told me this with the biggest smile of accomplishment mentioning how he was happy he did it alone. I was happy for him as well.

We got off bed, took showers, went to ‘Seek’s’ store, then to brunch next door, and then back to the shop to thrift some more. The farewell was a bit emotional, but not as emotional as it’s been in previous instances.

This time, I volunteered to drive us out of Chicago and towards Indianapolis, our next and almost last stop of the trip. There was a steady amount of annoying traffic the whole way and, while we were expecting to make it there by 7 pm at the latest, we didn’t get to my sister-in-law’s till well past that.

To be honest, this was what I was looking forward to the most about the whole experience. I wanted to see ‘Nickle’ with his family and it meant something to me that he so adamantly wanted me to meet her. We wanted to spend the night but, because of issues with returning the rental car, all we could afford to do is go to the neighborhood Applebee’s and have a quick dinner before starting yet another monstrous overnight 13 hour drive.

I offered again to drive for the first part. ‘Judy’ slept in the back and I took us 4 hours into Columbus where we were going to pick up ‘The Wife’. The anxiety had been present for most of that and I felt like I needed the rest so I asked ‘Judy’, who’d been sleeping the whole time, to take charge as I laid in the backseat on my lover. This time, we slept a bit more.

After four hours, she asked for a relay and ‘Nickle’ obliged. He put a very valiant two and a half hour effort before I made him switch with me again because he seemed like he was going to pass out and kill us all. We exchanged places at a rest stop and I asked him to just keep me company because I was also feeling drained.

Towards the last hour of our last pit stop, we hit a bit of traffic. By this point everyone in the car was awake and we were all deliriously trying to keep me awake. Somehow, someway, we made it to Philadelphia where ‘Nickle’ and I made the executive decision of taking a nap at ‘The Wife’s’ apartment before attempting to finish the drive and potentially die in the process.

The couple of hours of eyes shut were just what we needed and, although my anxiety was at full speed, I felt significantly better. We decided to go to brunch before finally getting back to the city so we drove to Honey’s somewhere on 3rd street. The food was surprisingly delicious. Philly tends to have a fame for having subpar restaurants. We stopped by a plant store, the girls purchased some leafy decorations, and we dropped off ‘The Wife’ back at her place on the way out.

‘Judy’ drove the rest of the way as I laid in the back seat freaking out here and there, and secretly wishing that ‘Nickle’ would just touch me to remind me I’m still here. My mind reader appropriately did so a few times.

The first borough we stepped foot in was Staten Island, we drove by it and over the Verrazano bridge and into Brooklyn. We dropped ‘Judy’ off at her place, dropped off our stuff at mine’s, and picked up ‘Toto’ back in Manhattan before finally leaving the state again to go to New Jersey to return the rental. It felt great to be back in the city four a couple of hours.

Finally, the true end of our trip begun with taking the PATH train back to 14th street to then take the L to Brooklyn. We stopped for some groceries, and then headed to my apartment to make some dinner. We got side tracked by some much needed de-stressing sexy time. We took a shower to wash away our sin, enjoyed a home cooked meal, talked about the trip, and repeated our transgressions by having a second round of blow jobs. After climaxing we instantly passed out on the couch.

I woke up a few hours later to ask my babe to come join me in our actual bed.

The Midwest was not what I expected. It was less crazy that I thought, yet my anxiety was significantly worse than what I had hoped it would be. The drive went smoother than I had foreseen, yet I was more exhausted than I had imagined. And just when I thought the worst in terms of anxiety was over… the rest of my week was about to start.

“And Yes I’m kinda crazy, that’s what happens baby, when you put it down you should’ve give it to me. Good like that, should’ve hit it like that, had me yellin’ like that. Didn’t know you would’ve had me coming back.”

Leave a comment

07.11.2011

I Was a Prayer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I think that night we fooled around.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leave a comment

26.10.2011

TBD

Last Friday half of the royal Mexican family was coming to town to visit. I, of course, went to work for most of the day, and it was a long one. I finished a bit late and decided to stay even longer because I was going to meet my dad and my sister for dinner as soon as they arrived around 8 pm. Per my boss’s suggestion, we went to Saxon + Parole on the Bowery and Bleecker. The place was super packed, and I was a bit afraid that my unforbearing father was going to have a moment and refuse to wait more than the time it’d take them to set up a table. Luckily, my boss knew the manager and he managed to score us a table rather quickly.

Dinner was what I’d expect. Good food and some intense exchange of point of views. Whenever family’s in town, I don’t usually have your standard “relatives visit” shenanigans. To begin with, it is never a planned event. It happens very spontaneously and random. We rarely bond over stupid pictures of Times Square or strolls down Central Park. We never disrupt our daily lives or take days off from work. We are more about staying in separate places and meeting for a meal or two per day, and then calling it a night.

Despite our atypical behavior, we are very close, and thus the dinner conversation revolved around commonly touchy subjects that we’ve all been desensitized from and often rationalize and find the logic behind them. We talked about my parents’ ongoing on again off again marriage, my sister’s antisocial behavior, my brother’s pre-diagnosed Asperger’s, and my overly open and often graphic description of my new relationship. I love my family.

Henceforth and always with a plan on mind, I decided to butter them up a bit with some alcohol. I have to mention that neither of them are drinkers, so it only takes a drink or two to get them lulled. My scheme involved taking them back to Brooklyn to meet ‘Nickle’ for the first time so that the ice would break and we’d have the much less awkward scheduled official “meet the parents” dinner the day after. I was a bit nervous that my charming lush would already be a few shots past due, but I was willing to risk it. If they want to meet the man I’m in love with, I want them to meet him without a disguise.

After dinner and before Brooklyn, I received a call from ‘The Wife’, who had just gotten into town, instructing me to meet her close to my work for a drink before her and her friend, too, headed back to my neighborhood with us. We obliged and had a margarita at Sweet and Vicious. By this point, my almost exclusively sober father was already drunk dialing my mother, and my often shy, ESL sister was articulating complex sentences in her second tongue. It was time for the third act.

A few minutes later we stumbled upon my babe and his friend outside of our usual spot. Jackpot. The Cuban nuclear missile crisis was averted and the tension was nowhere to be found. Again, it was all in my demented head.

As expected, the “we’re only coming for one drink” turned into 3 or 5 plus a photo booth session, and and almost tragic ride home (they were drunk and had no idea where they were going), but all in all it was a great time. ‘Nickle’ and co seemed to like my blood, and that was the point of my plan.

The remaining diplomats headed to Union Pool for a night cap. I fail to remember if I even had a drink there, but we didn’t stay long, I had a ridiculously long day the next morning. We went back to ‘Nickle’s’ for bed and I donated my bedroom to ‘The Wife’ and her friend. ‘Titi’, who’d been in town since Wednesday from Sweden, had dibs to my couch.

Saturday, as stated, I had a hell of a long day. I started really early (by my standards) at 8 am. I had to go to the British Airways headquarters to do a special project for them that I thought would only take a few hours, and then I’d take the rest of the day off with the excuse that I was going to hang out with my family, but really with plans of seeing either ‘Fixie’ or my babe. Unfortunately, I was there till 7 pm with only one cigarette break and with no time for lunch (priorities).

As soon as I decided to call it quits and before finishing the workload, I left to go home, shower, and meet ‘Nickle’ to then meet my dad and my sister for an excellent dinner at Cafe Boulud. Again, the beginning of the night turned out into a success. We had exquisite food, drank well mixed drinks, and chatted effortlessly. After a few hours we left and my family hastily jumped on a cab and disappeared without even a hug. Expected.

‘Nickle’ suggested we walk to The Seahorse Tavern for a drink and then figure out the rest of the night. A drink with ‘Nickle’ or me is never just a drink. Six shots, four beers, and an intense somewhat pointless and repetitive conversation later we were on a cab on our way home.

Part of the reason why I’ve highlighted our drinking is because of nights like this where, in the absence of copious amounts of alcohol, we wouldn’t be having this situation and, as stated, it got repetitive and thus pointless… but we carried on and left it at that, just another drunken night.

The brief family visit went better than expected. My dad and my sister showed a side I’d never seen, both because they actually got drunk and let loose, and because for the first time ever, they were very open talking to me about my boyfriend and asking to know all the details with honest curiosity. I’m not sure what the future holds, and it’s scary in many senses, but at least I can be sure that if need be, he can come home with me to open arms and a tiny chocolate on the pillows.

Leave a comment

18.09.2011

Get Myself Together

“It’s all over like steps in the first snow. Something’s been building up and it’s gonna blow.”

Anxiety.

Friday morning ‘Nickle’ had left before I woke up. He wrote me a note saying he was sorry but he had to go to work. It’s all good, I had to do the same. I got to work a bit late on purpose because I didn’t want to deal with the clean up from the event the night before. The day was uneventful.

I left work at around 7 to go meet ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ for yet another art opening. This time: Andy Warhol at Gagosian on 21st. The show was amazing, to say the least. It was only about his screen prints of Liz Taylor, and ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ and I got inspired for our Halloween costumes. Without giving much away, they are going to be amazing. We ran into ‘Afterline’ who, in his usual way, suggested we go to some “hip” party at the hideous Dream Hotel in Chelsea where James Murphy, of LCD Sound System fame, was DJing. I was hungry and so was she so we told him we’d go eat and meet up later. We left promptly and walked to Blossom on 9th and 21st for some upscale delicious vegan yumminess and to talk about our future trip to Texas.

After dinner we went to Dream hotel for a drink and to wait for ‘Afterline’ and co. I was texting with both ‘Nickle’ and ‘Jose Maria’ to potentially meet either of them if I didn’t end up staying for James Murphy. Three drinks and an amazing conversation later, we decided to leave and I decided to go home. I was tired and I wanted my time alone.

I got home and drank all the open bottles of alcohol I could find. Wine and vodka mostly. I had been getting overwhelmed with the whole ‘Nickle’ situation feeling like I was losing myself and my independence so I wanted to find someone on Grindr, go meet them at Metro, and have a random make out session with a complete stranger to prove to myself that I’m still my own person. Stupid perhaps, but I thought it therapeutic. Sadly, the Grindr boys did not deliver.

Once I had a decent buzz, I took ‘Toto’ for a walk and stupidly strolled in front of The Abbey. I ran into ‘Nickle’ who greeted me with much excitement (as usual). He asked me to stay but I mentioned I was tired and would go to bed soon. He asked if he could come over later, and I, being the nice idiot who never says no, told him to text me when he was going to leave and if I was still up he could. I thought that was a nice compromise although to be honest, I shouldn’t have compromised my night at all. I was a bit annoyed at myself and anxious.

I went back home and continued my quest for some fresh lips to kiss. It was still very unsuccessful. I decided it was time for bed when destiny slapped me in the face and just as I had turned off the lights and plugged my phone to charge, he texted me saying he was coming over if I was still awake. I should’ve not replied, but for some bizarre reason I did. What’s wrong with me!? I turned the lights back on, went on facebook and firmly convinces myself that I was only going to wait ten minutes or two songs’ time, whichever came first, and then I’d really go to bed. Again, just as the second song was about to finish I heard the bell ring. The handsome Floridian had arrived.

I’m not sure if he was expecting more but I told him I was still very tired and would just go to bed. We kissed for a second and cuddled the night away.

Saturday morning we got smoothies and he took a cab with me to work. The trains weren’t running and he needed to get back in the city to pick up his bike. ‘The Cock of the North’ was outside smoking a cigarette when we walked by. We all had a brief conversation and then I went to work and ‘Nickle’ went for his green vehicle. At work I was interrogated whether this man and I were boyfriends. I said no, not me, no way, no sir. I only stayed for a couple hours because I had made plans with ‘The Wife’ to go to Philly so we could then go to Camden, NJ and see our favorite band in the whole world Blink 182. Don’t laugh. I made it to my train just in time and I slept the whole ride west.

While in Philly, we quickly grabbed a bite to eat at some tapas restaurant that was actually surprisingly good, bought a bottle of whiskey, turned it into road sodas, and cabbed it to the venue. We got just in time to see My Chemical Romance open for the boys. I wanted to puke, not because I was drunk, but because of the music and the crowd, so I decided that if I was indeed going to vomit it would be out of too much drinking and went to get another unnecessary drink. We then finagled our way to better seats and waited for our teen idols to perform. I was more drunk than I thought I was and a bit sad because I really wanted to remember the show so I started texting myself the names of the songs so I’d at least know the set list. Somehow, we got even more drunk and did something quite embarrassing that we managed to block out of our memories for the time being. We peed on the bleachers not once but twice!

The show ended and we uselessly tried to get a cab. There were nowhere to be found. Then we tried hitchhiking but I don’t think Jersey people are very fond of New Yorkers or Philadelphians so that proved futile as well. We eventually just went to a bar to let everything die down and wait, but after some quasi sobering food we decided maybe we’d try and walk the bridge. Luckily, we found a cab around the corner, pretended to be whoever the cab driver was supposed to pick up, and stole it. ‘The Wife’ passed out on the way and my pigeon-like sense of direction kicked in so somehow I lead us home. Our plan was to stay up for a while, but again, we were more drunk than we’d like to admit it and by half past midnight we were already in bed.

Sunday we woke up and went for bagels and juice. I was supposed to catch my train at noon, or so I thought. Again, I didn’t have the best luck with cabs because I forget we’re not in New York and we actually have to plan ahead, so I ended up getting to the train station fifteen minutes past my alleged departure. When I tried to change my ticket, the lady pointed out that I was actually 12 hours and 15 minutes late as I was supposed to have left the night before. Silly me. I paid the extra twenty bucks for the next train and left 13 hours afters I was originally supposed to leave.

When I got back to the city, ‘Nickle’ had texted me that he wanted to see me. I reluctantly agreed I would. He suggested we meet by the ferry, take the boat to the city, and bike to the West Village to meet his friend who was about to finish an HIV/AIDS charity bike ride from Boston. Although I still wanted my alone time, this sounded fun so I accepted his invitation. When he rode in to the dock he was looking extremely handsome in his gold bike helmet (which he recently spray painted), aviators, a blue sweater, jeans, and chucks. How can I resist this man?! To add insult to injury, the boat ride was too damn romantic. Again, how can I?

We rode for half hour till we got to 13th and 7th. His friend was just coming in. I started getting really bad anxiety for some reason. I did not feel comfortable. ‘Nickle’ knew a lot of the gays present, which is fine, and is why I like him, because he’s so different from all of them, but there was something about the whole thing that just rubbed me the wrong way. I felt odd and was ready to make an excuse to leave till the damn mind reader suggested we go eat and then meet his friends for drinks. I reluctantly accepted. Again.

Off we went further into the West Village. We ended up at Tortilla Flats for some very mediocre Mexican food. Another one of his friends joined us, this one I really like. We then went next door to some bar for the post race celebration. Again, my anxiety started fucking with me. I was briefly introduced to some of the older more “established” gay men I often try to avoid. There was something going on because I felt so out of my element, I couldn’t socialize with any of these people so I told ‘Nickle’ I would go because I had to meet a friend for some birthday drinks. The friend in question? ‘Latin T’. He offered to come with. I wanted to run away and scream but whatever, the bike ride over the bridge helped calm me down. We dropped our stuff off at my place and meet some of his friends, the ones I actually like, at some bar near my yoga studio. I didn’t stay long, they invited me to karaoke but I said I was going to meet my friend as promised and I’d catch up with them after.

I biked to Union Pool to a ‘Latin T’ surrounded by all female hair stylists. It was a nice time. I had a couple drinks, ate some tacos, bought him a shot, and then tried to stop him from getting into a fight. The man gets crazy when he drinks and has been banned from many a establishments. The altercation as well as some very personal revelations he was making were my cue to leave so I said my goodbyes and biked back to ‘Nickle’ and co. They were at some karaoke bar two blocks away from where I’d left them. I got drunk and sang Miley Cyrus – See You Again. They loved it. We dance and chanted and acted retarded amidst a rain of glitter that ‘Nickle’ had purchased for his biking buddy but had forgotten to give to. Me and ‘Nickle’ stepped outside and had yet another heart to heart. What can I say, he knows what buttons to push. Keep on digging that damn dagger into my chest, handsome, one day you might actually penetrate the concrete cardiac walls and get somewhere. We spent the night ensemble.

“I got, got to get, get my head back on. I got, got to get myself together.”

Leave a comment

11.09.2011

I Love New York

“I don’t like cities. But I like New York. Other places make me feel like a dork. Los Angeles is for people who sleep.”

On the day of my usual bimonthly trip back to the west coast I decided to hit the Barney’s warehouse sale with ‘Freckles’. It was disappointingly bad.

Not having tamed our insatiable need to swipe some plastic and purchase unnecessary garb, we headed uptown to the flagship so we could pay full price and feel somewhat accomplished. I had a flight later that evening and I didn’t have much time to browse properly so after a somewhat unsuccessful shopping experience at Barney’s, and still with a lingering desire for more overpriced goods, we ventured into Bergdorf’s. Jackpot. I left with two Thom Browne shirts and a slight boner. The sales associate, a B-list actor in a few of Van Sant’s movies, was cute and flirty.

We took the train back home, I finished packing, grabbed my dog, and to JFK I went sans cellphone (which I’d lost the night before). The flight was standard.

I landed at SFO at around 10:30 pm. I messaged my friends through facebook because I had managed to find a replacement phone but had no one’s numbers. They contacted me and I took a cab to the Mission to my friend ‘Chogi’s’ place. She had just moved back to the west coast from Ohio, of all places. Upon arrival, three quarters of the party (the ones with vagina and a vast knowledge of fashion) greeted me with open arms and big screams, the other quarter (the one with a dick and the palate of a chef) was already in an alcohol induced coma. Then slowly, one by one started laying down and giving in to the same fate. I was getting a bit annoyed as I had just flown in and was expecting to make the best of the briefs number of nights we would get to spend together. Somehow, someway, and with the help of ‘Reindeer’ who showed up a bit after I got there, we got them up and ready to leave the apartment at the almost useless hour of 1 am (bars in California close at 2).

We took a cab to a place called The End Up. I had never been nor heard of it, and I’ve been in San Francisco many times, but I got quick good feedback as soon as I posted my plans for the night on facebook. Upon arrival, the place was annoyingly crowded by the wrong kind of crowd. That on top of the few minutes we had left to party, and the annoyingly overpriced cover, forced us to make the executive decision to walk back, pick up some booze at the store before they stop selling (2 am… again… ridiculous), and head back to ‘Chogi’s’ so I could catch up and they could kill their second wind. Being a New Yorker (yes, sometimes I do grant myself the right to claim that title), I was fine with walking the mile and a half journey. My fellow west coasters weren’t and, although they put up a good effort, after about two thirds of the way we ran into a limo parked at a gas station and, due to the lack of cabs, I asked the driver how much he’d charge us to take us home 7 blocks away. I was ready to pay whatever as long as the complaining stopped. Luckily, he said he’d take us for whatever we wanted to give him. We hopped on the stretched white car, opened our super classy bud light + clamato cans, and poured them in wine glasses.

The ride was ridiculously short. When it dawned on us that we could pop our head out the sunroof, we were already home. Despite the car being parked, we did so anyway. One by one we all passed out. I don’t recall in which order, all I remember is ‘Reindeer’ left and, sadly, that was all I saw of him that trip.

Saturday morning we had plans to go to Napa for some wine tasting good times. Surprisingly enough we were all up and ready by elevenish. Me, ‘Chogi’, ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’, ‘Chet’, ‘Honey’, and ‘Toto’ rode the Volvo for an hour to wine country. First thing on the list was In-N-Out so me and ‘Chogi’ could indulge in the much missed West Coast fast food smorgasbord. We stayed at ‘Honey’s’s friends’ place, the same lezzy couple who’s wedding I’d crash back in July. The locals had another wedding to attend so the rest of us out of towners just drank and hung out around their apartment as they attended their previously scheduled festivities. After a few lazy hours we decided to explore the town. We called for a cab which proved out to be ridiculously inconvenient. Apparently, you have to wait anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour for a taxi. Eventually, we managed to get to the ghost town that was downtown Napa.

We walked and walked amidst closed businesses until we found a place we’d yelped about that had great reviews. We asked for a table and went across the street to have a drink as we waited for the estimated 45 minutes till our table was ready. In reality, it turned out to be more like an hour and a half. The food was good but not great, the service sub par but it got a bit better towards the end. With our bellies full and with hopes to party like only me and my Californians know, we tried walking back until we either found a cab, or a bar, but preferably both, neither of which were miles to be seen. Napa sucks.

Since all of our brilliant minds were together, we devised a plan to go to the grocery store, buy bottles of our favorite flavored drink (in my case ginger ale), and a bottle of vodka, make some road sodas and walk the 2.1 miles back to ‘Honey’s’ friends’ chateau. At first the Californians argued with me, God forbid they walk anywhere, but eventually they realized, like most of us New Yorkers do, that we don’t need no car or public transportation when we have a healthy pair of legs. Despite a couple detours and getting lost for a second, the walk home was fun.

That night I was really tired and somewhat drunk. I believe most of them stayed up chatting and drinking. I grabbed my cuddle buddy ‘Toto’ and dozed off on the couch.

Early Sunday morning I woke up and skyped with ‘Twentyeight’, one of my 50 Grind Dates. I’ve been keeping in touch with him because I want seconds, and because I find him very attractive. He definitely left a lasting impression. Then I skyped with ‘Jose Maria’ who was still in Greece on holiday but was about to come back to New York. Everybody started waking up. I said bye to my skypees and planned the rest of the day with my non virtual buddies. We went to Whole Foods to grab some pre-made goodies to eat and some vodka and 5 different kinds of olives to make our own bloody marys. Brunch at its best.

After showers and more laying around my best friend, appropriately nicknamed ‘The Wife’, showed up. Her parents, who live in the bay area, dropped her off very Middle School style. We all eventually left for Hess winery. Being one of the most sober ones (if not the most), I drove one car and ‘Honey’ drove the other one. The winery had an amazing art collection. I am not the biggest Rauschenberg fan, but there was one very colorful and very flat piece of him that I loved. Sadly, our day had started late so we only had half hour to walk around the gallery, and half hour to wine taste. Regardless, it was fun and relaxing, as I’d expect it to be.

We drove back home and finally agreed on what tattoo we’d all get. We’d been toying around with the idea to permanently mark our “friendship” on our bodies. The first thought was to get the word “Love” tattooed. I of course almost threw up. The idea evolved from “Love” to “Phylia” to “Love” in Braille. The efficient ‘Chogi’ found and contacted half of the only two studios that were open and available in that ghost town, and we walked right over. Coincidentally, it was a couple blocks away from the restaurant were we’d dined the night before. The “artist” wasn’t ready, so we went a couple of blocks more east to have a beer and some Mexican food. An hour later we returned. The first time under the needled gun was ‘The Wife’ who, in her very usual fashion, decided to fuck any plans we had and scribbled down the word “Love” with her own handwriting and got it tattooed near her wrist bone. After we all saw how pretty it looked we decided to get branded by her design. I, of course, still reluctant to have such word forever ingrained in my epidermis, came up with the brilliant idea of getting it etched on my ass. I figured it’d be funny and ironic. The rest of the tattooees got it either in the same spot as ‘The Wife’, or in the case of ‘Chogi’ and ‘Honey’, they reverted to the original Braille idea. All in all a fun experience. The tattooist, although a bit sketchy, was a really nice guy, who had now become part of the “pact” we had all partaken in.

We left the tattoo shop at around 11:30 pm, packed our bags back at the lezzys’ and drove home at midnight. It was a bitch of a ride. I drank some energy shot and drove for the first half of the trip with ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ keeping me company. We woke up ‘Chet’ and ‘Honey’ to pass the baton. She fell asleep, he drove the rest of the way down, I kept waking up every so often worried he might doze off and we might all end up sleeping with the fish (or in this case, since most of California is milk farms, cows).

Finally, after an exhausting seven hour drive, the sun had come up and we were back in LA. We all passed out almost instantaneously.

A few hours later, ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ woke up and went to work. Me and ‘Chet’ lingered around for a bit. He finally agreed to cater to most my needs and drove me to pick up ‘Talent Waster’ so we could all eat some delicious fish tacos at Rubio’s, one of the only reasons I really miss California. We then drove to buy some much needed and much cheaper cigarettes. We showed off our tattoos to ‘Talent Waster’ and she implored we get one with her as well. Despite the fact that I wanted to go to LACMA to see the Tim Burton exhibit, I gave in to my addiction and agreed to get inked for the 23rd time right before I had a dinner date with ‘T Rex’, an old teacher of mine who I briefly dated after I finished college. We googled and yelped our fingers away trying to find a spot that was both reputable and had a very low minimum because we didn’t want to pay 80+ bucks for such tiny tattoos. Our search ended when we discovered a place not too far from ‘Chet’s’ place. Being LA, we drove the less than a mile walk.

The place was empty, as expected on a Tuesday afternoon, but the staff seemed really nice and welcoming. I was the first to go. This time, the marking in question was the word “black” in Braille. I am not sure what the whole obsession with Braille is, but I liked how it looked. I got it injected on my chest. Up next ‘Talent Waster’ got “Love” in Braille on her arm, and ‘Chet’ got the same right under the handwritten version he’d just gotten done the day before. We dropped ‘Talent Waster’ off at her place and I said good bye for the last time in a while. My lovely friend had decided to leave everything behind and head to the land down under in search of new experiences. Although I’m a bit pissed at her for doing so instead of coming to New York, this is one of the reasons why I adore her and I wish her the best. Besides, I’m sure she’ll come around to her senses and move to the city I love.

On the way back, ‘Chet’ dropped me off at a random intersection where I met up with ‘T Rex’. He looked different. A bit more haggered, a bit more heavy, still somewhat attractive. I think that New York has raised my standard and given me a new appreciation of beauty because I used to find this man absolutely stunning. We went to dinner at a Mexican spot next to the bar we used to go to all the time. It was incredibly pleasant to see him and catch up. I could tell he still had a thing for me. In our usual manner, we drank and drank and drank. An hour and a half later, we went for one last round at the aforementioned bar, and then we walked back towards his car and ‘Chet’s’. I had to catch a plane in a couple of hours. On the corner where we logically had to part ways, we said goodbye, I gave him a peck, and walked buzzed back to my friends’.

My last few minutes in California outside LAX were sappy. The people I’ve met there are probably the hardest thing to leave every time I go back. Despite the fact we see each other regularly, it never gets old. I packed my bags, grabbed my dog, said good byes, and got driven by ‘Honey’ to the airport. I got there at the right time, unfortunately, my plane didn’t. My flight was delayed an hour and a half, and that was just the beginning of my 12 hour long return back home… completely worth it but so annoying that I don’t even want to write about it.

“Other cities always make me mad, other places always make me sad. No other city ever made me glad except New York. I love New York”

Leave a comment

22.07.2011

weekend boyfriends!!

As I had mentioned, I went to work straight from DJ’s apartment, unshowered and smelling a bit like sweat and sex. The day went by quick. After work I rushed home thinking our bus for Atlantic City left at 5:45. I packed quickly, walked my baby, freshened up, and headed to some hardcore porn headquarters in the same building as DKNY and other fashion related companies somewhere near Times Square where I was to meet ‘Fixie’.

A bit of background on my future weekend boyfriend: I basically fell in love with him the first time I met him about a year ago. He is, physically, almost exactly what I look for, I don’t think there’s a creature in this planet who fits the bill 100% but he comes pretty damn close. At the time he had a boyfriend, but he seemed like a sweet guy that I’d like to know more and possibly wait for. We got to hang out a few more times and I got to hear the usual drama that comes with having a significant other. The more I saw him and the more I got to know him, the more I fell. We’d kissed a couple of times and discussed the possibility of sex. I am very into him, however, we live very distinct lifestyles and for me it’s just been a matter of “Can my horny penis finally deliver the coup de grâce to my over analytical anxiety ridden brain?”.

I was a bit hesitant over what the weekend might bring. I was anxious over drinking because I knew that that would most certainly help Mr. Winky dish his final blow, but in a way, I was somewhat ready for it. We walked across the street to Port Authority. He informed me the bus wouldn’t be leaving for another hour so we decided to grab a smoothie and wait in line. He is so damn dreamy.

Upon arriving at Atlantic City, our friends were nowhere to be found. ‘Fixie’ and I wandered around for an hour till they were courteous enough to show their presence and let us in the room to drop our bags. The weekend started on an off schedule. They had already eaten, we were starving, so we opted to go have dinner and meet them later for drinks. They kept texting us to hurry. I had a slight feeling they were trying to find out if we’d fuck already. The tension was there. Finally we met up with them at a club on the rooftop of our subpar “resort”. The moment we walked inside the club, we knew we were the two hottest guys in the room. Most eyes were on us. We developed a certain sense of entitlement, and I believe that was what started solidifying our ‘weekend boyfriends’ status. We had a few drinks, but they were ahead of us and left before we did. We were pretty tired from the long trip so we left the bar and headed to the room. No kissing. No sex.

The next morning again our friends wanted to eat a proper breakfast, we wanted smoothies, so we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. We walked along the boardwalk. We bought matching tees. I was feeling like a 12 yr old school girl hanging out with her crush. It was kind of cute to say the least. We ended up at a starbucks on a mall sipping on some subpar smoothies. Again, mom and dad kept texting to see where we were. A couple of friends of mine (including the love of my life/best friend a.k.a. ‘The Wife’) were driving from Philly to meet us for the day. We ended back at the room where we downed a couple vodka sodas and finally headed to the beach to meet the rest of the crew.

The beach was nice. I normally hate it, but me and ‘Fixie’ had decided to just have a crazy silly weekend and go in our speedos to try and ruffle up some guidos. Again, most eyes were on us (although for different reasons). ‘Fixie’s’ zebra print banana hammock out did my Euro sleek black Dior ensemble. He looked adorable. We splish splashed, smokey smoked, and tanny tanned. Very unlike me but, like I said at the end of the previous post, my bastions were promptly crumbling.

After the beach most of us opted for buffet. I discussed with ‘The Wife’ my feelings and concerns at the moment over ‘Fixie’. As expected, she suggested I just go with it. We stopped by the room prior to getting food. My sober self for some reason agreed to take a shower with ‘Fixie’. This was not me. This was not me. We had our first full view of each others’ genitals. I’d heard about his, and they were certainly as beautiful as they’d been described/ I’d been expecting. My usual self consciousness wasn’t there.

We walked to the buffet and stuffed ourselves beyond our skinny (or not) capabilities. After food, ‘The Wife’ and her friends headed back home. The rest of the posse decided to give in to the already present food coma. That night we were gonna try and do a pool party, Jersey Shore style.

Prior to la piscine, we went to a drag show upstairs. It was pretty phenomenal to say the least. After the show, we bar hopped along the boardwalk a bit. Per a handsome bartender’s suggestion, we nixed the pool party and headed to a beach bar. It was empty but drinks were cheap. We then tried to hit the Chelsea Hotel but were denied entrance due to our outfits. I won’t even start on my feelings about subpar clubs telling me how to appropriately dress. The girls who were with us stayed there, us boys decided to walk back to the club we were at the night prior. We made a pit stop at the beach where I had a one to one with my friend ‘Mexican Paddington’, then he had a moment with his beau ‘Queen of the Dammed’, and I had my first kiss/junk fondling of the weekend.

‘Fixie’ and I decided to strip down to our European beach attire and walk back down the boardwalk to the hotel weekend boyfriends status. Black girls loved us, black boys did too (although shh!!! don’t tell because they’re on the DL). People took pictures with us, gave us free stuff, and complimented us left and right. Again, most eyes were on us.

Back at the hotel, we decided to do the club in our speedos to top off the already atypical (although not really) night. People stared twice as hard as the night before. We managed to give a show, dancing on the go-go boys stage, making out, grabbing each other’s semi erect crotches, and whatever else my blurry memory won’t let me recall. We let our roommates head back to the room for a bit and do their thing, after all, this was their quasi-pre-wedding vacation. Not being very aware of the time we went back to the room a few minutes later not honoring our promise to let them enjoy man on man sex. We took another shower together. Somewhere out there there’s a video of me eating ‘Fixie’s’ ass in a New Jersey hotel room bathroom. Chip chop the bastion was down. I pranced around the room in my new found comfortable nudity and gave my first live sex show (although there wasn’t any actual sex, it was still very dirty). ‘Fixie’ passed out and I went to bed.

Sunday was our last day. We all checked out and walked down the boardwalk to where we were the night before to a cute little restaurant where the food and the ambiance wasn’t subpar, for once. Sadly, can’t say the same about the service. Again, somehow we all did our own thing and ‘Fixie’ and I ended up alone gambling. We started pounding drinks. We gambled some more. I was not very lucky, him on the other hand, had the typical case of beginner’s luck. I was out 100 dollars, he made a last minute $400 with the 20 bucks I gave him thanks to Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte. We went back to the beach for a celebratory make out session.

We meet up with the rest of the group and waited for the bus back home. On the bus ride home we were cuddly for a second, but that’s not really him, and it’s not really me either, lately. I took a brief nap. The whole weekend ‘Fixie’, being the sexually liberated over-evolved gay man he is, was blatantly talking to other men for sex, although he made sure to always include me in the plans. It bothered me a bit, for some reason, although I’m not sure why, yet at the same time, it’s kind of comforting to watch him be so open about it. I woke up and blatantly asked him if we were having sex when we got back to Brooklyn. He said he was already talking to someone else, but he was free on Monday. I said I had a date. I guess there’s always next time.

We got back to New York. We all went our separate ways. I met up with my friend ‘Buck’ and co. for some night before night before last partying. Still being in my beachy pool mood, we ended up at the rooftop at the Gansevoort. Then Greenhouse. I was mighty wasted so I did my usual disappearing act and, unlike my usual self, proceeded to booty text both DJ and ‘Fixie’. Throughout the whole night, I could not shut up about ‘Fixie’. It felt nice. I don’t think I could date him, although I’ve been surprising myself left and right, but it was a great weekend. It felt great to have that sort of tender crush one has when naive, yet this time with the maturity to take it for what it is: just a crush.

Leave a comment

Tag: ‘The Wife’