The History Of The Month, Part One!
To say that the past month has been eventful is perhaps a bit of an understatement. I'm constantly reprimanding myself for letting the everyday (though some are far from ordinary) experiences of my life go "unblogged" about ... I feel that if too much time goes by I may not be able to recall with any degree of detail exactly the way a particular event went down.
Somehow though, it's with great clarity that I sit down to write about the past month, and all of the insanity that has found it's way into my life.
I guess the best way to start is from the end. Well ... the end of my last entry anyway. I'd met "Shane" ... who I had deemed "the one." I'd fallen in love practically overnight, and for the first time was not crippled by the fear that the bottom would fall out of my relationship. I was, for all intents and purposes: happy.
For a week. Two tops. Then reality began to set in. Our differences started to become more apparent to me. Fundamental differences. Things that I could live with, but that I knew would cause us both unhappiness at some point down the road. After that realization came denial; trying to make believe that I wasn't seeing any of this. I'd run around proclaiming my love, even wearing a wedding band to show my commitment. I didn't want to admit defeat. And in all fairness, I did love him. It just wasn't the love I thought it was when we got off to a rather rapid beginning.
It was a Saturday, a few weeks ago and I found myself with the day off. He'd been jobless for almost a week, so he had all the days off. He seemed to have little motivation to look for employment, and also was ignoring the ticking clock known as his tourist visa, which was due to expire in less then two weeks.
But, it was to be a night at the theater. You see, my friend Ben had directed a show that was in previews for it's off-broadway debut.
Rewind 7 or 8 years ago. I was living in New York and attempting to piece together a pilot for a TV series I wrote and had some pretty talented people willing to sign on for. I meet Ben. My age. An assistant for a television executive, with a fondness for Patty Lupone and aspirations towards becoming a director. We meet and I'm immediately impressed with his drive and vision. He becomes a driving force in my TV pilot, and a dear friend to me.
The TV pilot got left in the dust when personal events lead to my departure from New York City, and my subsequent new life in Florida, and later Maine.
Ben was amazing, and everytime I'd come for a visit Ben would be right there to have a drink and talk ... have a drink and sing ... have a drink and ... well let's just say we drank a lot. I've noticed over the years we are very similar drunks. But I digress. Ben has always been one of (if not THE) my favorite people in the entire world. He has an energy and a charisma that's infectious, and it was wonderful over the years to see Ben go from someone who would worship at the Altar Of Patti, to someone who years later was getting phone messages from her to help with some project or another.
Fast forward to now ... Ben was making his off-Broadway directorial and producing debut and I was going to go and see how far he'd come. And "Shane" was to be my date.
The play was amazing. I was overwhelmed with a sense of pride in my friend who had put up a truly wonderful night of theater. "Shane" misread my silence as being upset with him (he always thought I was upset with him) and that caused tension during the performance. I still enjoyed every minute of the show.
Ben was surrounded by adoring 'fans' after the performance, so I left quietly and instead chose to leave him a voice mail telling him how proud I was of him, and that I would be down the street at the Duplex for some karaoke if he wanted to join for a congratulatory drink.
He hadn't returned my calls in weeks (he WAS putting up a show, so I understood) so the message was more hopeful then that I actually expected him to come. Though, in retrospect when he called a few minutes later to say he was coming and I shouldn't go anywhere, I wasn't surprised. Just happy.
As I stood outside of the Duplex with Shane, smoking a cigarette, Fate decided it was time to have a bit of fun at my expense. I look up from the cigarette I'd just put out with my shoe, and see Brian.
Rewind.
When I first moved back to New York City, I'd met Brian... I'd been very interested in Brian. Brian had told me that "friends" were all that were in our future. And I'd stopped calling him as much. In fact, I hadn't spoken to him at all since I was with Shane. And all of a sudden, there he was. With his sister, coming to karaoke. We chatted... and decided to all sit together and enjoy the night. I knew that the evening had just taken a dramatic turn, but as it would later turn out, it was in a much different way then I'd first suspected it would.
I shared, in whispers, the story of my 3 week relationship with Brian. I shared with him that I was having the realization that it wasn't working and didn't know what to do about it. Brian pointed out to me the irony. "Shane" wanted something with me that I no longer saw as possible ... much the way I had with Brian.
I enjoy irony usually. That night it just led me to down a pitcher of Stella and wait for Ben to arrive.
And arrive he did... and we chatted and caught up and went into our own little world, even while still at the table with Shane and Brian, who had gotten to chatting.
Brian and I got up and sang "Suddennly Seymour" ... and of course as we sang together up on the cabaret stage, I saw somebody who I had so much more in common with, who wasn't interested in me, as the boyfriend who appeared to love me so much sat in the audience and watched the performance.
Ben got up and sang the Forbidden Broadway version of "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" much to my delight. Then I wrestled him up on stage to sing "Defying Gravity" with me ... which was a total suicide but a wonderfully fun one, with Ben as my duet partner.
Finally the time came for Ben to go, so I walked him downstairs to say goodbye. Out on the street I hugged him.
"I'm so incredibly proud of you Ben. You've come such a long way."
Ben looked at me, put his hand on my cheek and said "Do you know who gave me my first directing job in New York City?" He smiled warmly at me as tears welled up in my eyes. "You did."
He flashed that winning Ben smile, wished me a goodnight and got into a cab.
It was perhaps one of the nicest (if not THE) things that anyone had ever said to me. I was on cloud nine and I floated on it back upstairs. The cloud sank as I walked in on what looked like a rather intimate moment between Brian and "Shane." Brian had his hand on his leg, which he quickly moved when he saw me enter. Reacting quickly I pretended not to notice, smiled and said I needed to use the little boys room.
I found the bartender, left some money for my portion of the tab and asked him not to tell anyone that I'd gone.
I high tailed it out of the Duplex, uncertain how I felt about what had just happened.
I knew I was upset, but I wasn't sure why. Was I jealous of "Shane," or Brian? Was I just looking for an excuse to end this or was I really feeling hurt and betrayed by a situation I may have misinterpreted?
"Shane" came home shortly after I did, and we had it out. A big knockdown blowout and I ended things. It was for the best. I said that we would stay in each others lives, and try to figure out in what capacity. Love was definitely there, but I question the depth of it.
We spent the next day in the room, just being lazy and introspective. The following day, as I got up for work, I found a letter from him. A letter professing his love, and desire for a second chance.
I spent that day thinking about the situation and ponderign whether or not the love was strong enough to try to build something stronger then what we initially had. I came to the conclusion that it was certainly worth talking about. I came home that night at 11:30, with flowers and a card... He wasn't there.
At 4am I threw the flowers and card into the trash and went to sleep.
At 6:30am he came home.
I cried without letting him know it.
The next day I went to work as usual and got my friend Tara's take on the subject.
I haven't talked enough about Tara (or her roommate Michelle) on here enough, so let me just take a moment to do so. Tara started working at the restaurant a few months ago, and we took to each other very quickly. Very soon after I met her roommate and best friend Michelle, and the two of them remind me a lot of Jamie and I. I bonded with both of them very quickly, and they ended up being there for me during several times of crisis after only knowing me a very short time. Both very good people, and a couple of girls I am proud to call my friends.
So anyway ... Tara and I chatted about the situation and I finally decided to persuade Tara to come out to karaoke with me that night. We went out to "Pieces" and sang our little hearts out ... OK, we actually each only sang one song, but they were fabulous.
... So afterwards I decided to take Tara back and show her the grand palace ballroom that "Shane" and I occupied in our oh-so-luxurious hotel-living.
We sat on the bed and chit chatted for a while and finally around 2:30, "Shane" wandered in, happy to see Tara as they’d bonded from the first time they met. (I’d made a little something silly out of that, which in retrospect seems ridiculous) But as they began chatting, the anger in me towards Shane’s flagrant disappearing acts continued to boil. At that moment, I got a text on my phone from Major, a party buddy of mine on occasion.
Now make no mistake, Major is a ghetto thug white boy, who just happens to like two things: dick and crack. He’s a big of a white boy thug, with a little bit of homo thrown in for good measure. I think I find him entertaining mostly because he reminds me so much of many of the boys in Florida who used to party at my house. Nice house ... NOBODY HOME.
Well I decided I was going to flip "Shane" off for a while... I knew Tara liked him, so I felt like I’d be leaving her in ok company, which in hindsight seems like such a terrible idea. But then again, it’s always 20/20, isn’t it?
So Major texts me to tell me he has a car and will pick me up in 5 minutes.
"I’m running to the store," I announce. "Anybody want anything?"
They say no, and I take off at 3am... for what I thought would be an hour long trip, max.
Major picks me up in a SUV outside of the hotel and there’s a boy in the front seat, so I hop in the back. The boy introduces himself as "Face" ... he’s black, and has a slight air of thug to him. With "Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist" from Avenue Q, playing in my head, I decide that he’s some sort of thug boy also.
We drive around lower Manhattan and as I prepare to ask where exactly we’re going, we see flashing lights behind us.
"HOLY SHIT!" I think to myself. "What if they’re drunk?"
Then I notice the panic in Major’s eyes.
"What?" I ask. "Are we going to get arrested for something?"
"Yeah, probably." Major says, in an almost monotone voice.
"HOLY SHIT!" I think again, as the officer walks up to the car.
"Evenin’." He says.
I panic and the rest of the conversation between Major and the officer was a blur, as I was trying to sober up enough to comprehend what is happening; The jist was that Major showed the officer his ID and said it was a friend’s car he was using to run some drunk folks home.
"Does your friend know you have their car?" The officer asks Major.
"Yeah." Major says, and then with a pause, adds; "I think so."
The officer actually rolls his eyes at Major’s stupidity before saying, "Well, I’d make sure to get it back to where it needs to be before he decides thast you don’t have permission to be using it."
With that he turned and walked back towards his car. I exhaled the biggest sigh of relief, as Major kicked the car into high gear and practically tore away from the police officer.
The boys start hifiving and congratulating themselves and I roll my eyes. "Let me out of this car, I’m gonna take a cab home."
"Nah son," Major responds. "We’re going to Long Island."
Before I could protest any further the car had turned onto, and was speeding down the BQE.
"HOLY SHIT!" I thought again.
(To Be Continued....) :)
Somehow though, it's with great clarity that I sit down to write about the past month, and all of the insanity that has found it's way into my life.
I guess the best way to start is from the end. Well ... the end of my last entry anyway. I'd met "Shane" ... who I had deemed "the one." I'd fallen in love practically overnight, and for the first time was not crippled by the fear that the bottom would fall out of my relationship. I was, for all intents and purposes: happy.
For a week. Two tops. Then reality began to set in. Our differences started to become more apparent to me. Fundamental differences. Things that I could live with, but that I knew would cause us both unhappiness at some point down the road. After that realization came denial; trying to make believe that I wasn't seeing any of this. I'd run around proclaiming my love, even wearing a wedding band to show my commitment. I didn't want to admit defeat. And in all fairness, I did love him. It just wasn't the love I thought it was when we got off to a rather rapid beginning.
It was a Saturday, a few weeks ago and I found myself with the day off. He'd been jobless for almost a week, so he had all the days off. He seemed to have little motivation to look for employment, and also was ignoring the ticking clock known as his tourist visa, which was due to expire in less then two weeks.
But, it was to be a night at the theater. You see, my friend Ben had directed a show that was in previews for it's off-broadway debut.
Rewind 7 or 8 years ago. I was living in New York and attempting to piece together a pilot for a TV series I wrote and had some pretty talented people willing to sign on for. I meet Ben. My age. An assistant for a television executive, with a fondness for Patty Lupone and aspirations towards becoming a director. We meet and I'm immediately impressed with his drive and vision. He becomes a driving force in my TV pilot, and a dear friend to me.
The TV pilot got left in the dust when personal events lead to my departure from New York City, and my subsequent new life in Florida, and later Maine.
Ben was amazing, and everytime I'd come for a visit Ben would be right there to have a drink and talk ... have a drink and sing ... have a drink and ... well let's just say we drank a lot. I've noticed over the years we are very similar drunks. But I digress. Ben has always been one of (if not THE) my favorite people in the entire world. He has an energy and a charisma that's infectious, and it was wonderful over the years to see Ben go from someone who would worship at the Altar Of Patti, to someone who years later was getting phone messages from her to help with some project or another.
Fast forward to now ... Ben was making his off-Broadway directorial and producing debut and I was going to go and see how far he'd come. And "Shane" was to be my date.
The play was amazing. I was overwhelmed with a sense of pride in my friend who had put up a truly wonderful night of theater. "Shane" misread my silence as being upset with him (he always thought I was upset with him) and that caused tension during the performance. I still enjoyed every minute of the show.
Ben was surrounded by adoring 'fans' after the performance, so I left quietly and instead chose to leave him a voice mail telling him how proud I was of him, and that I would be down the street at the Duplex for some karaoke if he wanted to join for a congratulatory drink.
He hadn't returned my calls in weeks (he WAS putting up a show, so I understood) so the message was more hopeful then that I actually expected him to come. Though, in retrospect when he called a few minutes later to say he was coming and I shouldn't go anywhere, I wasn't surprised. Just happy.
As I stood outside of the Duplex with Shane, smoking a cigarette, Fate decided it was time to have a bit of fun at my expense. I look up from the cigarette I'd just put out with my shoe, and see Brian.
Rewind.
When I first moved back to New York City, I'd met Brian... I'd been very interested in Brian. Brian had told me that "friends" were all that were in our future. And I'd stopped calling him as much. In fact, I hadn't spoken to him at all since I was with Shane. And all of a sudden, there he was. With his sister, coming to karaoke. We chatted... and decided to all sit together and enjoy the night. I knew that the evening had just taken a dramatic turn, but as it would later turn out, it was in a much different way then I'd first suspected it would.
I shared, in whispers, the story of my 3 week relationship with Brian. I shared with him that I was having the realization that it wasn't working and didn't know what to do about it. Brian pointed out to me the irony. "Shane" wanted something with me that I no longer saw as possible ... much the way I had with Brian.
I enjoy irony usually. That night it just led me to down a pitcher of Stella and wait for Ben to arrive.
And arrive he did... and we chatted and caught up and went into our own little world, even while still at the table with Shane and Brian, who had gotten to chatting.
Brian and I got up and sang "Suddennly Seymour" ... and of course as we sang together up on the cabaret stage, I saw somebody who I had so much more in common with, who wasn't interested in me, as the boyfriend who appeared to love me so much sat in the audience and watched the performance.
Ben got up and sang the Forbidden Broadway version of "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" much to my delight. Then I wrestled him up on stage to sing "Defying Gravity" with me ... which was a total suicide but a wonderfully fun one, with Ben as my duet partner.
Finally the time came for Ben to go, so I walked him downstairs to say goodbye. Out on the street I hugged him.
"I'm so incredibly proud of you Ben. You've come such a long way."
Ben looked at me, put his hand on my cheek and said "Do you know who gave me my first directing job in New York City?" He smiled warmly at me as tears welled up in my eyes. "You did."
He flashed that winning Ben smile, wished me a goodnight and got into a cab.
It was perhaps one of the nicest (if not THE) things that anyone had ever said to me. I was on cloud nine and I floated on it back upstairs. The cloud sank as I walked in on what looked like a rather intimate moment between Brian and "Shane." Brian had his hand on his leg, which he quickly moved when he saw me enter. Reacting quickly I pretended not to notice, smiled and said I needed to use the little boys room.
I found the bartender, left some money for my portion of the tab and asked him not to tell anyone that I'd gone.
I high tailed it out of the Duplex, uncertain how I felt about what had just happened.
I knew I was upset, but I wasn't sure why. Was I jealous of "Shane," or Brian? Was I just looking for an excuse to end this or was I really feeling hurt and betrayed by a situation I may have misinterpreted?
"Shane" came home shortly after I did, and we had it out. A big knockdown blowout and I ended things. It was for the best. I said that we would stay in each others lives, and try to figure out in what capacity. Love was definitely there, but I question the depth of it.
We spent the next day in the room, just being lazy and introspective. The following day, as I got up for work, I found a letter from him. A letter professing his love, and desire for a second chance.
I spent that day thinking about the situation and ponderign whether or not the love was strong enough to try to build something stronger then what we initially had. I came to the conclusion that it was certainly worth talking about. I came home that night at 11:30, with flowers and a card... He wasn't there.
At 4am I threw the flowers and card into the trash and went to sleep.
At 6:30am he came home.
I cried without letting him know it.
The next day I went to work as usual and got my friend Tara's take on the subject.
I haven't talked enough about Tara (or her roommate Michelle) on here enough, so let me just take a moment to do so. Tara started working at the restaurant a few months ago, and we took to each other very quickly. Very soon after I met her roommate and best friend Michelle, and the two of them remind me a lot of Jamie and I. I bonded with both of them very quickly, and they ended up being there for me during several times of crisis after only knowing me a very short time. Both very good people, and a couple of girls I am proud to call my friends.
So anyway ... Tara and I chatted about the situation and I finally decided to persuade Tara to come out to karaoke with me that night. We went out to "Pieces" and sang our little hearts out ... OK, we actually each only sang one song, but they were fabulous.
... So afterwards I decided to take Tara back and show her the grand palace ballroom that "Shane" and I occupied in our oh-so-luxurious hotel-living.
We sat on the bed and chit chatted for a while and finally around 2:30, "Shane" wandered in, happy to see Tara as they’d bonded from the first time they met. (I’d made a little something silly out of that, which in retrospect seems ridiculous) But as they began chatting, the anger in me towards Shane’s flagrant disappearing acts continued to boil. At that moment, I got a text on my phone from Major, a party buddy of mine on occasion.
Now make no mistake, Major is a ghetto thug white boy, who just happens to like two things: dick and crack. He’s a big of a white boy thug, with a little bit of homo thrown in for good measure. I think I find him entertaining mostly because he reminds me so much of many of the boys in Florida who used to party at my house. Nice house ... NOBODY HOME.
Well I decided I was going to flip "Shane" off for a while... I knew Tara liked him, so I felt like I’d be leaving her in ok company, which in hindsight seems like such a terrible idea. But then again, it’s always 20/20, isn’t it?
So Major texts me to tell me he has a car and will pick me up in 5 minutes.
"I’m running to the store," I announce. "Anybody want anything?"
They say no, and I take off at 3am... for what I thought would be an hour long trip, max.
Major picks me up in a SUV outside of the hotel and there’s a boy in the front seat, so I hop in the back. The boy introduces himself as "Face" ... he’s black, and has a slight air of thug to him. With "Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist" from Avenue Q, playing in my head, I decide that he’s some sort of thug boy also.
We drive around lower Manhattan and as I prepare to ask where exactly we’re going, we see flashing lights behind us.
"HOLY SHIT!" I think to myself. "What if they’re drunk?"
Then I notice the panic in Major’s eyes.
"What?" I ask. "Are we going to get arrested for something?"
"Yeah, probably." Major says, in an almost monotone voice.
"HOLY SHIT!" I think again, as the officer walks up to the car.
"Evenin’." He says.
I panic and the rest of the conversation between Major and the officer was a blur, as I was trying to sober up enough to comprehend what is happening; The jist was that Major showed the officer his ID and said it was a friend’s car he was using to run some drunk folks home.
"Does your friend know you have their car?" The officer asks Major.
"Yeah." Major says, and then with a pause, adds; "I think so."
The officer actually rolls his eyes at Major’s stupidity before saying, "Well, I’d make sure to get it back to where it needs to be before he decides thast you don’t have permission to be using it."
With that he turned and walked back towards his car. I exhaled the biggest sigh of relief, as Major kicked the car into high gear and practically tore away from the police officer.
The boys start hifiving and congratulating themselves and I roll my eyes. "Let me out of this car, I’m gonna take a cab home."
"Nah son," Major responds. "We’re going to Long Island."
Before I could protest any further the car had turned onto, and was speeding down the BQE.
"HOLY SHIT!" I thought again.
(To Be Continued....) :)
posted by Kevin at 12:41 PM
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