So Happy I Could Die.

“Just give in, don’t give up baby, open up your heart and your mind to me. Just know when that glass is empty that the world is gonna bend.”

The first forty-eight hours of the second week of holiday parties were great. Despite the massive panic attack I had Monday night where for the first time I had to call my parents, I enjoyed the quality couple’s alone time we had decided to schedule earlier in the week, as well as the rest of the holiday parties we were planning to attend till the day I left for California. And thus it begins…

It all started very routinary, we woke up, fooled around, showered, and I laid in bed as my boyfriend went to work. I dilly dallied for a bit, but started the day at around 11am. I took ‘Toto’ to the vet to get his health certificate for our upcoming California trip, went back home and continued gathering paperwork, and had another skype session with my shrink. I mentioned how I’m not sure about the medication and how my dad is still suggesting I go for a more natural solution. The funny thing is part of my whole issues I guess has to do with constantly seeking approval from my dad, and I’m doing it again by asking if he thinks I should take Prozac or not…. I bought the prescription but I haven’t started to take the pills.

After therapy, I spent about half an hour going through both ‘Nickle’ and my pictures on Facebook. Bad idea. I started to get a bit of anxiety because, being the lunatic sadomasochist I am, I started to wonder and ponder about the previous men in his life. Why? I don’t know. I also don’t know why I even bothered to do so, I’m usually very good about not using Facebook to stalk and find out things that are better kept unfound. I managed to stop before it got crazy, told myself it’s all fine because I also have a past, and decided to leave my apartment to go x-mas shopping.

I headed to Saks to get my mom her staple limited edition Flowerbomb holiday bottle, and then walked to Barnes and Noble to find books for people on my list. It is a belief of mine to give books because I find them personal and I think reading is one of the best things one can do. On my way to the store I received a phone call from my dad with some bad news which set the anxiety off almost instantly. I went from being stable to full on panic mode in about a block’s walk. Have you ever walked down a buzzy street feeling so anxious that you’re about to pass out and nothing makes sense? I have. Often. Except this time it was worse. I felt dizzy, I felt weak, I felt like I was going blind, I felt paralyzed.

I mustered up the mental strength to tell my right hand to reach into my pocket and pull out my cellphone. I dialed ‘Jose Maria’ who lives near by and asked him to join me for a drink. I was getting nauseous and, although it’s probably not the best solution to a panic attack, it’s a quick fix and I know it works. He mentioned he was cooking dinner and couldn’t come meet me plus he didn’t think I should imbibe. In retrospect I agree. I insisted and he told me he’d start getting ready and I should call him in 10 minutes if I still felt anxious.

I hung up the phone and almost instantly texted him saying I’d just go home instead. I had more errands to run. I got on the subway and headed back to Brooklyn. I picked up some groceries and started cooking dinner for my date night with ‘Nickle’. I was determined to redeem myself since the first time I cooked for him turned out to be subpar. This time, my spinach pasta with faux bolognese sauce was going to work out.

My boyfriend showed up at our door (yes, I’ve decided that’s what I’m going to start calling my place) at around 8pm just in time for me to finish cooking. Spring mix with ricotta and balsamic vinagrette followed by the fusili and chased down with red wine all whilst I stared at his piercing greyish blue eyes. Once we were done, we moved to the couch where we had more wine and some sexy time and then we passed out.

Being the unstable sleeper I am, I woke up at 1am and dragged us both to bed. Before falling back asleep, I had a bit of an anxiety attack. He held me and kissed me to try and make it better but that didn’t help. I calmed down for a nano second and then it came back stronger. This time I got up and went to the living room. I was freaking out about errands I still needed to do and just having completely irrational “worse case scenario” thoughts. I caught a grip and went back to bed. Almost as soon as I laid down it started for the last time but unbelievably strong and crippling. I got up and went to the living room to call my mother. It was that severe. I have never called my parents before for something like this but as soon as she picked up I couldn’t even speak. Eventually I started crying and she desperately tried to calm me down. She then asked to talk to ‘Nickle’ who reassured her I was fine and he’d be there with me. Per her medical advice, I drank some chamomile and lavander tea. My dad called me as soon as I hung up the phone with my mom and also talked me out of my fit. I’m not sure if it was something chemical that just needed to happen or if the tea actually helped (I’m often skeptical), but I managed to fall asleep shortly after.

Tuesday morning I woke up feeling terrible. I was exhausted. I was embarrassed. I was emotional. My unbelievably supportive boyfriend mentioned it was all fine and I had no reason to feel any of that. We took a shower and then we sucked each other’s dicks. I still had x-mas shopping to do so I told him I’d get an early start and head to the city with him when he went to work. I like when we take morning train rides together.

At Union Square he went downtown and I went uptown. The first stop was FAO Schwarts where I had a muppet version of ‘Nickle’ made to order. I called ‘Jose Maria’ to see if he was up and if he wanted to join me for breakfast as I waited for the muppet to be put together. He first hung up on me, but later called back and agreed to meet. I walked over to Lexington and 70th street to a little corner cafe where he was waiting inside with a half hung over face. I mentioned the long night I had, he continued to reassure me everything would be ok, and we enjoyed some overpriced coffee and pastries. I asked him to come with me as I tried to find a gift for ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ who was graduating later that week and had invited me to the ceremony. He didn’t want to but after a bit of convincing and mentioning how I miss hanging out he agreed.

We walked around the upper west side with absolutely no luck at all. I decided I wanted to get her a bright yellow scarf and a book about journalism (her Master’s Degree). Do you know how hard it is to get either of those too? At some point, ‘Jose Maria’ gave up and I walked around a bit more till I ended at Saks where I found the first of the damn things. I then went to Barnes and Noble and asked for the book. Deja vu. They didn’t have it. I was looking for “The Sun and the Moon” and the only copy Barnes and Noble carried in the whole city was at their Upper West Side branch. I had to go to work so I couldn’t go over there but somehow I remembered to call McNally Jackson in SoHo where I could certainly stop on my way to or from work and pick up the copy if it existed. It did and right before getting to the office I completed my gift mission.

Work was fine. ‘BoGo’ was being lazy and emailed she wouldn’t be coming in which annoyed me but at the same time I took as a blessing. I love it when it’s just me and my coworker ‘McGuire’.

At some point in the afternoon ‘Nickle’ texted to ask if I wanted to go see the x-mas tree at Rockefeller once we got out. Of course I obliged. We met up at around 6:30pm and took the train uptown for my second time that day. Yes, it was pretty magical. Pictures, kisses, and sappy romantic behavior happened. I was still a bit tender from the night before but I felt significantly better having him there.

After the tree, he decided to take me to a noodle restaurant in Midtown. We sipped on some Japanese soup, shot some sake, and I believe we went home straight after. We were spent.

Wednesday was appointment tripletsies day. ‘Fixie’, ‘Nickle’, and I all had Doctor’s appointments. We got up really early feeling a bit more hung over than usual, managed to take a shower, and took the train to the city together again. I got off at Union Square where I walked over to the Doctor’s office. The lovely man managed to forget to let me know that he had to reschedule the appointment because he was out of town on a family emergency. I walked back to the train and headed back to Brooklyn because I didn’t have anything to do.

I didn’t stay long at my apartment, I wasted time on Facebook and headed back to the city for ‘The Lady of Derbishire’s’ graduation. I told work I’d be running late for that purpose so after the commencement which, by the way, was one of the most streamlined and pleasant ones I’ve ever been to, I stuck around for the after party. Bad hors d’oeuvres, two glasses of cheap wine, and about an hour later I decided to be responsible and head to the office. When I got there, ‘BoGo’ was absent. What a surprise.

The anxiety had been present the whole morning. Work wasn’t fun and again, I kept trying to figure out excuses to leave early. At around 5:30pm I decided I had to get to the post office before it closed to mail out some catalogues. I bid my annoying boss and my lovely coworker farewell and walked up towards Union Square. The post office was a mess and I hate holiday shippers. It actually took me significantly longer than expected. Finally, after close to an hour I left to walk over to Upstate, a bar on 1st and 6th where ‘Nickle’s’ firm was having their holiday party and he had invited me to be his +1. I like that we’re doing holiday parties together.

The evening was fine. I was still having a bit of anxiety, but not as much as the previous days. I guess it’s very cyclical?

Earlier that day, my man had suggested we head to “The Church” after the party. I was a bit hesitant because I was tired and I also didn’t know how I felt about going to a bar where I used to go regularly and where I know I’d run into familiar asses. Somehow during the holiday party I decided I’d be fine. We walked over for a drink. ‘Judy’ joined. I kind of felt like he was mad at me for a second but I was drunk so I didn’t really pay much attention to it. I said hi to the regulars, and asked to go back to Brooklyn. I was spent.

We all hailed a cab and took the Williamsburg bridge home. Naturally, before going to bed we made a final pit stop at The Abbey. Neither ‘Nickle’ or I remember what exactly happened or for how long we were there for, but I assume it wasn’t anything too crazy, we were just significantly intoxicated by that point.

Thursday morning we had to wake up early again. I had my rescheduled Doctor’s appointment and ‘Nickle’ had to go upstate for work. He left before 8am. I took another nap and woke up an hour later to be out of my place by 10am. The appointment took significantly longer than expected. I waited for about an hour and a half in the reception amidst gay guys, fruit flies, and STD pamphlets. Peculiarly and completely coincidentally, my Doctor is very gay friendly.

Well past noon he gave me the needed shot, and I left his office to head to work where I was supposed to be an hour earlier for a staff meeting. Although my bosses were not mad at me, I felt a bit bad that I’ve been slacking lately. The meeting, orchestrated by ‘BoGo’, went surprisingly better than I expected. It kind of rekindled my love for my job, and gave me some sort of hope that things might get better.

The day went by rather quickly. That evening we were having my holiday work party. We started having some drinks right after we closed, ‘Nickle’ showed up about half hour after, and at around 9pm we went across the street for a very traditional Chinese family style feast. The party was fun. We played that game where you have a post it with the name of someone famous glued to your forehead and you have to guess who you are. According to ‘BoGo’, I was Andy Rooney. I’m not from this country and I’m in my 20’s, I had no idea who he was. We drank some weird Chinese liquor that tastes like what I imagine Asian spunk would, and I got inappropriately drunk which I didn’t care because so did my boss. One by one everyone started leaving and after about 2 hours, ‘Nickle’ and I went for a nightcap across the street with ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ and her beau.

I blacked out again.

As expected, we woke up on Friday to another bad case of hang overs. We put ourselves back together and headed to work. I had a really really bad case of anxiety again. Per ‘Bogo’s’ suggestion, ‘McGuire’ missed work to sleep off her illness. I believe she had the flu or something. I didn’t mind because that meant that I was by myself and if I needed to have a fit I could do so. I talked to my dad about why I’d been having worse attacks lately. I mentioned that I thought it had to do with the natural alternative he suggested I take as opposed to the Prozac because I had read online that for a small percentage of people that can happen. He told me to stop taking it and see if that helped.

My lazy boss was running late. I had a hair appointment to make at 2:15pm so at around 2:10pm I texted her to let her know that I needed to leave for a bit and would close the place for the duration of my haircut. She replied saying she was on the way and I locked and left the office. I know it’s not very professional of me. I love my job but sometimes it’s hard to care when those above you don’t.

I returned with a new do to a very annoying rest of the day. Even though she has her own office, she decided she’d seat by me for most of the afternoon. Again, I tried to device and excuse to leave early and realized the shipping stuff is usually a great one. I mentioned I had to go drop off something at FedEx before they closed at the imaginary time I decided was their business hours and so I’d be leaving before 7pm. Karma is a bitch and FedEx, just like the post office two days before, was really packed. I wasted another 40 minutes.

At around 7:30pm I finally shipped the package and headed to Solas to meet ‘Nickle’ for a drink before we went to the last of the Holiday parties (or so I thought). Two Jack and gingers later we were on our way to the west 4th train to go uptown for ‘Nickle’s’ friend ‘Spirit Animal’s’ annual holiday party. Right before getting to the station I suggested we go to ‘Fixie’s’ birthday party first because it was closer and made more sense and so we did.

Of course my dear friend decided to show up late to his own party which would’ve been fine but I could sense that ‘Nickle’ was getting a bit antsy and wanted to go to his friend’s because all of his friends were texting him and I didn’t want to give him more reasons to want to leave. However, after ‘Fixie’ showed up and we had a giant one liter beer and some German snacks, he chilled out.

As promised, we left after an hour to head uptown for the last stop of the night.

‘Spirit Animal’s’ holiday party was more fun than I’d expect. In a way, it was a bit more organized than I would assume it would be, or maybe I was just more relaxed to go with whatever was throw at me. Regardless, I had a blast. Like I’ve said before, it’s always nice to go where everybody knows your name, and it’s even nicer if not only do they know it but they also love and anticipate your arrival. That’s exactly how ‘Nickle’s’ friends, who I guess are now mine as well, made us feel. In true ‘Nickle’onian matter, we proceeded to drink lots and lots of beers and maybe a couple of shots. Later that night, we moved the furniture around and danced like complete idiots to a menagerie of Rihanna, Lady Gaga, and Beyonce.

Towards the end end of the night, we got a bit sappy and talked about marriage. Not to each other but they idea of it, and if we’d ever been proposed before. Turns out we both have. It also turns out that stung quite hard. I don’t know why because like I said we both have, but I guess sometimes I’m insecure and I stupidly feel like I’m running behind. I shouldn’t compare myself but I can’t help but do it. Especially when irrational me kicks in, then it’s all gone and lost till I manage to snap back to reality.

And I did. I snapped back, danced some more, and enjoyed the rest of Friday’s holiday parties. We took a cab home and were sound asleep before 3 in the morning.

Having going to bed earlier than usual, we woke up quite energized. We had sex first thing in the morning, then we made breakfast, and then we had sex again. It was supposed to be my last day in New York before flying home for the holidays on Sunday and I really did not care if I was late or not so I just went with the flow. I think I was only about 30 minutes behind.

Work sucked but it was endurable. As I mentioned, it was my last day before a long break so I just kept telling myself: just a few more hours. We had made plans to go to Dyker Heights to see the x-mas decorations that evening, and so as soon as the time to leave was approaching I texted ‘Nickle’ to see if we were still on for that. I had a feeling we weren’t. He mentioned he was having dinner with ‘Clive’, ‘Gwen’, and her family at The Meatball Shop in Williamsburg and I said I’d meet them there. At that moment, I realized the x-mas light bike ride was not going to happen, which was fine because I was pretty exhausted, yet at the same time I don’t like when plans are broken like that. I expected the last night with my boyfriend to be extra special with just me and him for at least part of it.

I arrived at the restaurant to a very welcoming crowd. I’d never met ‘Gwen’s’ family but they greeted me with great excitement. I know I’m an awesome guy, but I do attribute a lot of this to the fact that my man is very loved and everybody’s very happy to see him very happy. We had a drink and some food and then discussed the bike ride. He mentioned going to The Abbey for a drink before Dyker Heights. I was thirsty and somewhat in the mood to compromise so I agreed. It also didn’t help that I was pretty tired and cold and kind of looking for a reason not to go.

While at The Abbey, ‘Nickle’ noticed my disappointment in potentially not going to see the lights. He suggested we finish our drink and go home to get our bikes. Again, I was cold, but I do like pushing myself at times for special occasions.

We ended up at my apartment being lazy and lovey dovey and drinking a six pack of beer. We went back and forth between going and not going but we eventually mutually decided not to. I texted ‘Fixie’ and ‘Jose Maria’ to see if they wanted to meet for a drink before I headed to California. ‘Fixie’ did with his circumsised beau, ‘Jose Maria’ gave me a bunch of excuses.

Back to The Abbey it was for a few more beers, shots, and a very blurry rest of the night. Next thing I know? I’m waking up on the couch at 7 in the morning a bit mad at ‘Nickle’ for letting me sleep there as opposed to next to him the last night I was going to spend with him in 11 days, but then again I can’t complain. I was a drunk mess and so was he.

Sunday bloody Sunday. We woke up still drunk from the night before. I didn’t want to leave that day so I casually threw out the idea of staying till the next morning. Naturally, ‘Nickle’ was all about it. I put a bit more thought into it and decided that I needed some liquid courage to pay the extra fees to change the flight. We concluded that I would go get us coffee while I walked Nigel and he’d have the whiskey and breakfast ready.

And so I did, Irish Coffee in hand we had some food and opened the rest of my presents. They were, to say the least, very very meaningful and thoughtful. ‘Nickle’, however, apologized for not being very romantic because he thought of getting me jewelry and then decided he wouldn’t. The funny thing is that I do notice a bit of a difference the gay generational gap creates between us. He’s a different kind of gay than I am and it’s moments like this that make me giggle. I told him not to be silly, romantic to me does not mean you get me a nice bracelet, I won’t wear it. Romantic is finding me a vintage catalogue of a Mexican Illustrator that we discovered on our first visit to The Met Together. Romantic is ordering me a guitar pic from my favorite band in the world Blink 182 and somehow giving it a new meaning for what was written on it. And yes, romantic is getting us matching beer bottle opener rings, it’s jewelry and it’s practical. I love my man.

Of course after the gift exchange we decided to thank each other by fooling around.

After our second cup of Irish Coffee I had mustered up enough balls to pay 260 bucks and spend a few more hours with the boyfriend. The rest of the day we decided we’d spend together drinking. Wise, wise choice.

First stop was his work where we spent a hefty two hours filling out and packing my x-mas cards. This year I found vintage x-mas romance novels at a thrift store in which I included my signature picture of me and ‘Toto’ in bookmark version, and a written personal season’s greeting on the book cover. We didn’t have time to mail them so I left them all for him to do later. We left his office and headed to the East Village for the second stop: Tattoos.

Before any judgment is passed, I just want to say that yes, we got couples tattoos, and no, it wasn’t a drunken decision. We had both thought about it long time ago, and we were completely aware of the superstitious implications of doing so. I told him that even if we were to brake up the second after, the moments I’ve spent with him is enough for me to be glad to have gotten a permanent mark and… if it really doesn’t work it it’s ok. It’s just his middle initial (he got mine) and I told him I happen to have a track record of dating guys who’s name begins with the same letter so I’m sure there’ll be more. He laughed.

We left the tattoo shop with our new brand of love and walked over to Bar 82 for yet another holiday party. I believe this one was the last one. Elaborating on our brilliant moment of eureka we’d had that morning, we continued to drink heavily. We decided we’d get wasted and go home early so we could wake up in time for him to drive me to the airport at 6 in the morning. We called both ‘Lego’, one of ‘Nickel’s’ friend, and ‘Jose Maria’ who came to join us at slightly different times.

First ‘Lego’ showed up for a couple of rounds, then we left for Solas where ‘Jose Maria’ met up. From there on it gets blurry. Talking to ‘Jose Maria’ I discovered we went to Ten Degrees for a split second. We didn’t even have a drink. Then to Lucy’s around the corner to play some drunken pool. And lastly, and this is debatable, we might’ve ended up at The Abbey because, according to ‘Jose Maria’, we coerced ‘Lego’ to come with for one last round. Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if we just left him there and went home. We don’t remember but we’re pretty sure that’s what happened.

Our 2011 holiday season together ended. The next morning I was going on a trip to California and Mexico. Was I excited? Not really. I love the city and I love my man, couldn’t bare the thought of spending 11 days without… then again, what else could I do? I still feel obligated to see my parents for x-mas. This year, however, will be the last. I’ve started to build an adult life of my own and I think next year it’ll really be up to me to go back, pressure or not.

“Happy in the club with a bottle of red wine, stars in our eyes ‘cuz we’re having a good time. So happy I could die.”

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!”

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.”

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.”

 

Unison

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We Can Never Break Up.

“We can never break up, we can never not show, we can never go home, no, we can never elope. We’ve only got one choice, so let’s keep making it, and making it. Making it and making it.”

Back to reality. The weekend was over and the city, for the first time ever, felt slightly foreign to me. I was glad to be back, but I could’ve also stayed away a few days longer. This was definitely a first for me.

The rest of my night was pretty packed so I barely had any time to think about how I was feeling about coming back. We dropped off our bags at my apartment and, after taking half hour to chill out, feed ‘Toto’, and catch a breath, we left to go meet ‘Geordie-Mo’ with his 718 beau and ‘Jose Maria’ at Mesa Coyoacan for my dear Briton’s farewell dinner. This time, I was to accomplish the task I’d been given before but was too drunk to perform: cross examine the future ex boyfriend. The verdict? I am not so sure about this one, but whatever my friend wants, I will support.

We left dinner and headed to Metropolitan for a few more rounds of drinks. Me and ‘Nickle’ were not really feeling too much in the mood to be out, I think we were train lagged so we didn’t stay for long and instead opted to go to bed but not before the mandatory night cap pit stop at The Abbey, of course. Again, that didn’t last long either. We were home soon after.

Tuesday is beginning to be one of my favorite week days. Yes, it’s the beginning of my work week, but my work is technically closed, so while I still have to go in, it is way more relaxed than the days when we’re open. That morning, after ‘Geordie-Mo’ showed up from his crazy night of wild fun, we took the train to the city. I stopped by my job for a bit, he went to grab a drink with a friend, and then he came back a couple of hours later to snatch me up and have one last lunch. I excused myself saying I had lots of errands to run, and left for about 3 hours. We met up with ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘Nickle’ for a quick bite at Bread in Tribeca.

After lunch, I continued “running errands” and walked over to Astor Place to go shopping for stuff for the office. At around 4 pm I returned to work. The next three hours went by pretty fast. I was looking forward to getting out because I had gotten me and the boy tickets to War Horse the week before when I though I wasn’t going to be drinking. Regardless, it was a play I’d been wanting to see and I was glad to do so with my babe. They were the best $250 I’ve spent going to the theatre. During the play I got a few anxiety attacks here and there. Nothing new, it’s just exhausting.

We left Lincoln Center and walked around looking for food. We ended up at Blue Ribbon right by the Time Warner Center eating some overpriced sushi. Yes, it was good fish and the place had lots of variety, but I’ve had better. I drank some beer and sake to subdue the anxiety but it didn’t really help.

Before heading home, ‘Nickle’ suggested we stop by Town Hall, a gay bar in the Upper West Side who’s clientele includes older gentlemen and the twenty something hustlers who fancy them (or their money). I’d heard about this establishment for a while now and I’d been wanting to go check it out so I agreed to it, however, I was not in the right mindset for the evening. My scattered brain was going everywhere and what would’ve been a funny experience turned into something odd that just left a sour taste in my mouth. We left after one drink and caught a cab to Williamsburg via the Queensborough bridge.

The ride back was filled with even more anxiety that ‘Nickle’ kept trying to calm down, but was somewhat unsuccessful. To be honest, I don’t remember much, I’ve been having black outs when the attacks get really bad. Somehow we went to bed.

Wednesday morning my day started with some sexy shower time. I think my favorite part of the day is when I wake up next to ‘Nickle’ and we hit snooze like eight times before finally getting up and going. It doesn’t hurt when aside from that we have some cute little intimate moments. I left my apartment with a smile on my face only to slowly turn it into a grin because ‘BoGo’, my boss, is useless. Checking back on my notes (I keep brief phrases that remind me what I did each day), I’m not sure why I wrote that but I’m sure I had my valid reasons. Maybe it’s a sign from above telling me not to bitch about bitches, maybe it’s a sign from above showing me that I, too, am incompetent for not remembering what prompted me to write so or not being more thorough in covering all my bases.

At around 5 pm, ‘Jose Maria’ showed up since he was meeting one of his boys around the corner. I told him to wait for me as I finished so I could walk out with him. I left at around 5:15 pm and headed over to ‘Nickle’s’ work. That night we were going to go to the World Trade Center memorial. I stopped by his office and got showed off like a proud catch. It always feels nice to be given this treatment.

We walked over to the memorial. I had told work I had a doctor’s appointment, and I stupidly checked in as soon as I got to the site. The clever ‘Jose Maria’ called me to make me aware of my mistake, but I really didn’t care. I took more pictures of the massive fountains and the names in light, and posted them on Facebook. After we left, I looked for the closest doctor’s office listed on Facebook and I checked in to that as well.

I’d been talking to ‘Nickle’ about our drinking habits, and I was still a bit tender from the previous night’s anxiety monsoon. He suggested we grab some food and a beer with his friend ‘Judy’ at an Irish pub around the corner and so we did. The anxiety was still there but I was putting my best face forward. I refuse to give in to these mood swings and let them control the outcomes of my day.

Sometime during dinner, they also suggested we go to The Abbey before heading home. Because of the anxiety I felt weird about this but did not speak up. I was drifting away to wherever it is I go when I get the attacks. One thing led to the next and we actually just went home. During the subway ride, ‘Nickle’ asked me if I was ok, to which I admitted not feeling well so we just stayed in.

At my apartment, we had a somewhat significant tiff. We started talking yet again about our going out habits. I explained that I don’t mind them, except I don’t want “grabbing drinks at a bar” to be the default activity when we have no other things planned. I understand it’s very easy to go there and I usually think the same way but, like I mentioned, when I’m dating someone, I want other things. I want chill nights in to happen naturally, not to be planned.

The argument continued for a while. We didn’t go to The Abbey despite me suggesting we could. I really just wanted to go home for a second, change shoes since mine were soaked from the shit weather outside, and then I was fine with having a nightcap. At the same time, I didn’t mind staying in. Nothing beats cuddle time.

We went to bed earlyish.

Thursday morning started with more talking. I didn’t mind it because we needed to yet, at the same time, it set the mood for the day a bit off. I went to work for half the day and then I had to do an install at British Airways. I was there for longer than expected. The plan was for ‘Nickle’ to come home (to mine) after work, make some dinner for us, and be waiting for me with a hot plate ready. Of course we were both busier than expected since we had a lot to accomplish before we left midweek for the holidays and that didn’t happen.

Instead, we both got off at around 9 or 10 pm and we met for dinner at Republic right by Union Square. I knew from the moment I kissed him hello that something was still off. He knew I knew. We didn’t address the weird aura and just ate our noodles while making small talk.

We were both really tired so we headed home right after. I am not sure exactly when or how it started, I think we had two or three beers before bed, but he began talking about how he wants to go home sometimes. I hadn’t been ok for the past few days and this kind of set me off again. We talked and talked about our relationship and where it’s going. We talked about me freaking out about our drinking. We talked about living together. We talked about how much time we spend with each other. We talked about everything and anything and nothing at all. It was all very repetitive and somewhat stressful. I didn’t take it well, and consequentially, neither did he. He went into frustration mode, which I’ve only experienced once before, and scared me even more when I could tell he was thinking of leaving that night. I somehow came back from my drift and talked some sense into our tiff. We stopped and fooled around and I swallowed for the first time ever. My anxiety levels were still off the charts, but somehow we managed to fall asleep and stop the bickering.

In retrospect, the argument we had that night was weird. I see his point about wanting some time alone. I agree, it’s just that at the point when he said it, I wasn’t ready to hear it. I’ve  thought from the beginning of this relationship that things were going too fast. He was going too fast. Yet I decided to not over think it and just go with it. I also thought a lot about the day when one of us would be the one to put the brakes, I wasn’t sure who was going to be the first, but I was terrified he was going to beat me to the punch. All in all, I just had too many mixed feelings and that, along with the higher than usual anxiety levels I’d been having, had me in a very delicate place.

Friday morning we talked a bit more. I didn’t feel reassured. He left for work and I was left with even more anxiety. I randomly skyped with a friend from abroad who I hadn’t seen in a while. I mentioned I might be coming to Europe in February, to which he asked if there’d be any sexy time between us (we fooled around once). I told him that was out of the question, obviously, because of ‘Nickle’. It felt good to say that. It was a bit comforting to know that I am with someone that I love so much that I have no eyes for anyone else. I took a shower and went into an even deeper anxiety hole. As I’m typing right now and reading my notes, they don’t make much sense but the word “fuck” is written quite a few times.

Luckily, I mustered enough sanity to decide to bike to work. The exercise would probably help me get out of the funk I was in, and so I did. I put on my music and rode over the bridge and up to the British Airways headquarters in Midtown. I still had a lot of work to do.

To say that I was a complete mess all that day is an understatement. I was nowhere near fine and, judging by ‘Nickle’s Facebook updates, neither was my boyfriend. He had made plans for drinks with friends after work and invited me. I replied saying that I might not be able to meet up as I felt nowhere near sane enough to be around people. After a few texts back and forth we decided to spend the night together. I told him I was fine with drinks, I certainly needed one, but I wanted to see him before for dinner so we could talk a bit more before we had any alcohol in our blood stream.

I rushed the install at British Airways and left at around 6 pm. We met on the corner of 2nd and 9th in the East Village and walked over to Plum for some pizza. We talked and talked and talked till he made us stop at the right moment. His eyes were teary and he screamed ‘I love you’ in the middle of the restaurant. That was exactly what I needed. We finished eating and met the rest of the crowd  at Sola’s for happy hour.

The remainder of the night was significantly better. I was out of my A-hole, and I was ready to relax and have some fun. We got drunk and ended up at The Abbey before going home to sleep.

For as much as I bitch about our drinking, it felt great to have some normalcy. I wish I could explain why I think the way I think or where it is I go sometimes, and it’s terrifying not being able to do so. I am constantly at fear of losing my man because of how insane I get and, although he’s constantly told me he doesn’t mind my insanity, I can’t help but worry. I will say, tho, that till I find a way to control the anxiety, I’m willing to fight the good fight every day, one day at a time.

“You’re like a test I can’t fuck up. You’re like a song in my head, like a la la la la la like a dream. Don’t wake me up and if I never see the light again. Well I guess they put me in the ground with this smile on my head, my love. My love”

Montauk.

“I thought I’d know the consequence, sweetness, can you believe this? Mess we’ve made of it, this mess we’ve made of it. In years to come it might make sense, sweetness, can you believe this? What’s become of it? what’s become of it?”

It was in 2008 that I first heard of the Montauk Monster. A raccoon-like fur-less corpse had washed ashore in the beaches of Montauk, New York. I had no idea of the existence of such town prior to reading about this anomaly (or hoax) on a random internet website but it did, however, start yet another spark. What is it with me and disasters/catastrophes and my love for New York? Just like 9/11 ignited my desire to move to the city, this monster now ignited my desire to go to the eastern most part of the state.

Unbeknownst to ‘Nickle’, I’d been wanting to go to Montauk for a while now. The day he suggested we take a weekend trip together (and with Fire Island being out of the question because, other than the summer, it’s a homosexual zombie town) I was on board. I didn’t say how excited I was, but I was. We set the date to the weekend of November 12, and the he dealt with the rest. It feels nice to be taken care of sometimes.

And so Saturday started with waking up early and not giving in to our hangover. We didn’t shower, just finished packing, grabbed our bikes and headed to Penn station. We picked up some juice, coffee, and a couple of sandwiches, and waited till they called the platform for our LIRR train to depart. At around 12:30 pm we were on board. For the first part of the train, we didn’t seat, we just stood by the handicap section holding our bikes and trying to fully wake up. The ride didn’t take long before we needed to change. At Babylon we boarded the next and last leg of our 3 hour long trip. Breakfast, kisses, a nap, and some you tube videos later we were in our home away from home.

We rode our bikes from the station to the Montauk Surf Club, a series of townhouses nested right off the Atlantic beach. The town, due to the season, was pretty desolate, but this just added to the magic. I was extremely happy to be away from the city and all that it entails, and have the next 48 hours just for the two of us.

After dropping our bags, we went for a walk to the nearest grocery store to get some snacks and essentials (alcohol). I’d been wanting this to be an almost sober weekend, but of course that was almost out of the question. We both drink and what’s better than having a nice beer or some wine with your man while laying on a bed and hearing the ocean sounds from less than a block away? I had a mini tiff with myself about letting go and relaxing, but I don’t think I was very successful so I planned on drinking myself numb. (Today, I read a lot about how to manage anxiety. I wish I had done that a few weeks ago).

We got back to the room and opened a beer. We talked about us and how we were finally going to have sex. I’m not sure if I’ve talked about this, but to that day we hadn’t had proper intercourse for various different reasons. We both decided to wait and, after a somewhat planned deliberation, we opted to finally do it in Montauk. Cue the fire works. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that level of connection with any of the previous 7 or 8 fuckees. It was magic.

After laying in bed for a few minutes looking like a Pollock from the neck down and sporting an R. Patz set of hair from the neck up (apparently, if you google “sex hair”, Robert Patinsson’s picture comes up a lot), we took another shower and headed to dinner at ENE, an asiany inspired nicer looking sea food place right off the lake.

Whilst waiting for a table, we ordered two drinks by the bar and started what would be a very long, very nice, very pivotal conversation. The more I read about my anxiety, the more I understand it, and the more I find ways of coping with it. That being said, one of the ways is being reassured somewhat constantly that most my fears and doubts are completely irrational. During the conversation, and without me asking, ‘Nickle’ did just that, by saying things like how much he loves me, how happy I make him, how different he feels about me from how he’s felt with others in the past, and how he does see us living together. Again, all these things seem sort of cliche, but when said at the right moment, they hold enough power to subdue whatever anxiety I was going through.

We left the restaurant and, although I was tired and wanted to go home with him, he suggested we go for a nightcap. I reluctantly obliged but later I was happy I did. We had a couple of drinks at The Shagwong Tavern, a super kitschy local dive bar. We continued our conversation because God knows I love to talk and I never shut up. Again, anxiety and all I was happy to be in Montauk. Three whiskeys later, we were on our way home to have one last shag before finally shutting our eyes. Day one: success.

Sunday morning we laid in bed watching episodes of How I Met Your Mother. We tried doing the dirty again but, since we’ve both pretty much honorably regained our virginity, our bodies were not ready for round two. Instead we reverted to familiar behavior and sucked each other’s dick dry.  A shower followed, and then a bike ride around town looking for a place to brunch only to end at a little diner off the main road. The plan for the day included a five mile bike ride east to the lighthouse, but before doing so, we went souvenir shopping at an overpriced convenience store. Not much to say about that other than I spent 10 dollars on a deck of UNO.

The ride east was hillier than we had thought. There were moments were I cursed the day we decided it’d be a good idea to bring our bicycles, yet at the same time, I see no other more convenient way of getting to that point on Long Island. After about a half hour ride, we were there, smack in the middle of nothing was a cylindrical tower of sandstone and a few other smaller buildings, and a steep grass hill in which we rolled down. We paid the fee to walk up the stairs to the room harboring the fresnel lens. The place was beyond magical. Here I was 100+ feet above ground in the eastern most part of my favorite state in America with the man I love being blown by 50mph winds… if it doesn’t sound like a pretty picture trust me, it was!

It was getting somewhat late (because the sun sets so early these days), that we decided to go buy more unnecessarily overpriced unnecessary souvenirs (although I did get some super cute x-mas cards), and ride back to a different part of Montauk for some much needed lobster bake.

Our trek proved pointless as we ended up biking north through more hills only to find out that the two places we were looking to dine in were closed for the season. Yes, Montauk is magical in the fall, but no, it’s not super convenient to find places around town that are not “closed for the season”. We sucked up our frustration, mustered up our second wind, and biked back to downtown. This time, ‘Nickle’ walked part of the hills, I might as well should’ve done the same because, although I was on my bike, he was probably walking faster than I was pedaling. Just as the sun was setting, we picked up some dumplings to snack on before dinner from a hole-in-the-wall chinese establishment, a bottle of coke to make some Kalimoxto, and got back to our little love nest.

Later that night, we finally got our wish granted when we took a somewhat uncomfortable cab ride (the driver asked us for donations for his son’s surgery) to the west side of Montauk to Gurney’s Inn for a delicious two pound lobster dinner. I have never had as much crustacean goodness as I had that night and, despite it being all messy, it was one of the most romantic experiences I’ve ever had.

More stuffed than a turkey on Thanksgiving, we called another cab to head back. I don’t think we were conscious enough to fool around. The food coma sent us directly to bed.

On the last day of our romantic getaway, I woke up at 3 in the morning freaking out a bit. Yes, if it’s not clear by now, the anxiety happens often. The boyfriend, unknowingly again, reassured me that everything was good and I went back to bed. A few hours later I was back up. This time for good. We got ready and went for some short stacks at Anthony’s Pancake and Waffle House. Having still a few hours to kill, we went back to the room for round three. Again, not very successful, so we took a shower, and headed for a drink while we waited for the train to depart. The Shagwong Tavern became our Montauk Abbey.

Finally, at around 3 pm, we biked back to the station and hopped on the LIRR back to Manhattan. I napped part of the way there and read a fifth of “The Devil in the White City”. We were home in Brooklyn at around 7 pm.

For this being our first getaway together, I’d like to say that I was extremely pleased. I wasn’t sure what to expect, and I certainly had my fair share of anxiety attacks, but then again how is that different from my everyday? In a way, it solidified our relationship. It drew us closer and more scared, at the same time, as the stakes had never been higher. I was glad to hear I was not alone in feeling this way, and I was also glad to hear that my boyfriend is opening up more than I’ve ever seen him do… I wonder what will happen when we go upstate this winter.

“If you hear this and you think you’re ready, then meet me in Montauk where we’ll write out in the sand: ‘Here lies the destiny of 2 hurt souls afraid to be cured again.’ That could be our epitaph.”

Belong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Combat Baby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.”