One of my favorite ones was at Boxxes. I had just finished my pantry shift at Benjamin's at the PacWest, my nick name was pantry princess, see even back then people saw my grace and beauty (insert buck toothed smile). I was waiting for my brother and some friends to go dancing next door at the Brig. I was on a carrot and celery diet, so my three double screwdrivers hit me hard and fast. Add that to the half dozen cigarettes I smoked while I waited for my friends, they were late, and the high level of anxiety I had sitting in a gay bar all by myself; it's no wonder Linda came for a visit.
I had my mouth sweats happen, then I got a bit sweaty, which is nothing new, I always get nervous and sweaty in public. However, that combination is a tell tale sign of the approach of the hurl curl. I made my way to the bathroom. Of course the path is lined with uber sexy men against the wall working a hook up. Skin tight Levi's, hairy chests, vests and attitude lined the approach to the bathroom. As I start my nervous stumble to the toilet, I can not hold it back. Before I know it, my hands are up trying to hold back a force too great to be restrained, and I have carrots and celery and screwdriver shooting out between my fingers spraying all along the wall as I continue my hurl to the sink where I heave and heave filling the sink with a nice chop salad. It really is no wonder I can never get a date. Who would want to date that hot mess?
It was the return from the bathroom that was the worst. The evil glares and bitchy squeals coming from the wall of masculinity. Judging me. Pushing me. Laughing. I just lit a cig and went to the otherside, where word of my escapade had not yet arrived, just like my friends. Fuck. I'll call that scene.
Next up, my adventures in dating land, staring me, a florist, two dogs, gravity bongs, Jaegermeister shots, whiskey sours, bangars and mash and a VHS of Northern Exposure. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Every day for six months. I know. But he loved me and dreamed of me.
It began on a lovely day in Astoria 1999, I went into a flower shop to buy myself my weekly boquette of flowers; a little thing I did for myself because I was worth the love. Anyway(sssss), as I approach the back counter this fella with long hair, wide ribbed camel colored cords and hemp necklace turned, made eye contact with me and fell back into the card stand knocking it over. I helped the fella up. He got all giddy and looked at me with his sweet blue eyes and proceeded to say, "Sorry about that. You just took my breath away. I have been having a dream about you for years and figured it was just someone I would never know and now here you are in front of me."
Pause..... I am a devout romantic. Always have been. He was tugging on my heart strings and my wheels were turning on our new found love. He dreamt about me, that means something. I will open my locked down heart and see what happens..... That was my instantaneous inner dialogue that allowed me to say," my name is Marco, want to get together after work and tell me more?"
I should add that this all happened at the end of one of my seven year cycles of trying romance. He came over that evening and I lived up to my true form which was to be sure to do it on the first date because if he discovers how much of a freak show I am he might now be back and at least I can have one fun ride.
We did it on my zebra faux fur comforter, under a ceiling of bamboo, and after a few drinks and an hour of making out and smoking. Tasty I know. I was excited though! He was in to me and that felt great. Mid thrust he says, "can we go to the shower to finish?" I guess. I hated my shower, it was in an awkward space in the basement and I always felt more dirty when I was done....
Fast forward a few months.
We saw each other everyday. This was our exact routine, hardly any variation, ever:
I would sleep on his small bed smothered by his two dogs and him.
I would get up at 5 and go to work.
Take my first break at 8, go pick him up for work ( he had no license).
He would have a shot or two of Jaegermeister and a gravity bong, I would join for the bong.
I would drop him at work and return for my day.
I'd go walk his dogs after work and clean up the mess from his puppy.
Pick him up at 5
He would give me a presnt or flowers every day.
We would go to Ship Inn
He would have 3 double whiskey sours, I would have single vodka crans.
I would have fish and chips, he would have bangars and mash.
We would smoke many cigarettes.
Next stop, 711 for a six pack to take to his place.
Clean the mess from the puppy
Gravity bong
A shot
Sit on the love seat with the two dogs and watch the same cassette of Northern Exposure as he told me he loved this show, the first time from his lips, the thousandth time to my ears.
It was a long loop of Groundhog Day and it took me months to understand the pattern. It really was the always having to do it in the shower so he wouldn't pass out that really got to me. Or maybe how he always fell down the stairs. He loved me but could never remember our history together because he was always so fucked up. But he loved me.
I caught a reflection of myself one day while we were at it in the shower next to the heaps of dirty laundry on the floor, my body swollen from all the drinking and fried food and I hated myself. This wasn't love.
The thing was, he was so loved by people. He was the sweetest. But our relationship was not healthy and I was enabling him as I would match him and hold his hair at the toilet and try to keep his life in order.
I think the worst part was the humiliation of finding out he had been stealing from work. All of my gifts were hot items. Long time family friends. I still feel guilty when I see them.
Anyway(ssss), that was the year I met my savior, Melanie, and I got the hell out of town......
Just this past month I met this fella who was thinking of moving to town. He was told that he should meet me and I introduced him around and I tried to be his friend. He really is a sweet man, he totally reminds me of my exboyfriend from'99, but I pumped the breaks because his pattern was so strongly what I vowed to stay clear of. It brought back too many memories of sad and heavy times for me.
The interesting thing is that during the encounter with this present day ex, the former ex passed on. I feel such joy for him. To know he has been released from his struggles and pain brings a sense of relief for me. My problem is that I did love him so much and he was a pivotal part of my path but I could not make space for him in my life because of how our time together was. I guess the best part of that time together was that every time he looked at me with his blue eyes he was always seeing me for the first time and that joy was exquisite.
He was the reason I pulled my life together and saught out my own path. He is why I stopped being a heavy drinker, why I quit smoking cigarettes and why I took an interest in living my life and searching out eye to eye, heart to heart friendships. He pushed me down my path and helped me find breath in my stale soul. So for that, I honor his passing.
I've said good bye to my hurl curl life. I am always willing to demonstrate a dry heave version if you'd like but I'm not that person any longer.
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