It’s a small world and it’s getting smaller

I’m huddled in the darkest corner of the room, listening to the growing sounds of a so very hungry crowd shuffling steadily in my direction. My heart is pounding in my chest and the guns keep slipping from my sweaty hands. I’m standing as still as possible, breathing as shallow as my body will let me. The crowd comes closer still. I can feel their collective hot breath buffeting my throat. Can feel their broken hands reaching for my skin. I know what they want. I can’t stop them.

My life is a video game.

Lately, paranoid as it sounds, I really can feel that crowd breathing down my neck. In that crowd is every person I know. And though the piece of me they want isn’t quite so literal, they’ll take it all the same. It’s slowly sapping the happy out of me.

It’s hard to know where to start. OK, so I went and drunked out this Friday. I mean, REALLY drunked out. I went further than I wanted to, but I knew what I was getting into and I had alcohol anyway. And this is where I don’t know what to say. Normally, I’d spew out all the details. Who reads this anyway, right? Except this time, I feel too ashamed to share. Not because I actually feel like I did anything wrong, but because I’ve seen that disappointed look on my friends’ faces often enough to know I’m weary from it.

Something I’ve repeatedly told myself along this “journey” is that as long as I don’t regret my choices, any pain or other such consequences are manageable and worth it. I don’t regret anything I did that night. Sure, I think a little less of myself. I mean, wow. But I guess I just view that as a price I have to pay before I can finally figure out who I want to be.

Doesn’t mean I was all that angelic or even intelligent Friday. Or that I didn’t do something that would aggrivate my friends. I’m worrying them, disgusting them, and angering them. I’m bumbling around, willingly walking into situations I know will violate me in some way, will hurt me just a little. But I can’t seem to explain how totally UN-masochistic this is. How curious I feel and how much I value each lesson I take away from these crazy nights.

It hurt Friday, to discover how incapable I am of protecting myself, and to realize that I’m not always surrounding myself with people I can trust my well-being to. That might sound like a given, but I guess I was really starting to automtically trust that people would have my safety and interests in mind. ha, naive, I know. But now I DO know. Now I’m maybe just a bit smarter. Having people tell me to watch my back, to be careful, and to drink less is nothing like figuring it out for myself.

What hurts more, is the knowledge that my friends might think less of me each time I do something stupid like this. That their response will be a resounding, “Duh, what’d you expect?” and a look of pity. So I strain myself, attempting to give off an aura of confidence. I know what I’m doing, everything will be ok. Except I’m scared half the time. I don’t know what will come of all this. I don’t know who I’ll lose and what I’ll become. And what if it’s too late? What if the person they’re sticking around for doesn’t exist anymore? Maybe the pieces of me they love are already gone. What they want, I can’t give. I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe I’m still hungover. Maybe I need to stand in front of a mirror and say “I’m worth it, damn it.” ha

Maybe I need reassurance. Tell me I’ll be ok. Tell me you understand.

You know.
Lie to me.

Slightly drunking: swimming in my boxers and other weekend follies

This weekend, I got a bit of closure from the whole month of drunking with Kasey that occurred earlier this year. Each time I think back to how it ended, I cringe a bit, because we did a pretty good job of using each other. It made me feel a little worthless, to only have a person want to hang out with me and kiss me when they had been drinking. But I went to her for the same reason. And it never occurred to me to ask more personal questions to find out what Kasey was going through. I was just too wrapped up in my own crap.

So anyway, this weekend I was enlisted by Kasey to make a meeting with an ex of hers slightly more tolerable. She’s pretty tight with the family and felt obligated to go to one of their gatherings, but she really didn’t want to go empty-handed. I had met some of the ex’s family before, and Kasey knows I can field questions and talk people’s heads off. So I went and played the outgoing date, got drunk with Kasey, went swimming in my boxers (unlike Kase, I did not have a swimsuit tucked away in the car), and just generally blocked Kasey from as much annoying ex crap as I could. It still wasn’t super fun for her, but I hope I made it better than it could have been.

And it helped, to finally meet this ex and get more of the story of why they broke up. It helped me understand why Kasey had been so into drunking the same time I was. It helped me NOT feel so worthless. We just happened to meet at a time when we were both so very hurt and so very needy.

So later in the night when she kissed me, I felt something I’ve never felt before. A sort of relaxed kinship. A feeling like I’d truly made a friend that I didn’t feel awkward cuddling or lightly kissing. We hung out at her place afterwards, drinking beer and talking about exes and jobs and whatever else tipsy people talk about. And we said good night with a hug and a kiss and a feeling of almost gratitude. For having someone who’s living a similar life. Someone who’s scarred and still breathing and still trying.

Moratorium: say NO to drunking

A very close friend of mine has declared a moratorium on all my dating activities. She says I need at least a two-week break or I’ll end up with anything with legs. ahahaha She’s probably right.

Let me go ahead and be dramatic. I’m in this vulnerable place right now, where I would probably latch onto any opportunity I’m given, just on the off-chance that I won’t have to be the dreaded S word. Single. No, no, I know that I can really enjoy being single – that I can survive on my own and be just as happy. But, being single those few moments immediately following a breakup…just suck. So, of course I want to alleviate that crappiness with the first person that offers.

Which is why I got a lot of crap for going out last night. With Ashley. And her girlfriend. And her girlfriend’s twin. Aha, a friend of mine (who requests I call her Argyle…inside joke) was very scared (with reason) that I’d end up drinking and spend the night flirting with the twin. Well, it’s not the flirting she was afraid of; it was the subsequent drunking. So get this right now. People, I am NOT going to make a move on my ex’s girlfriend’s CLONE. How creepy would that be? Srsly.

Unless I’m having a bad day.

KIDDING.

No, really, come on. My life is already dramatic enough. Any more and I’ll turn into a gay boy. And then I’d have to date a guy. Gross.

Which leads me to a dream I had. Last week, I joked with a friend about maybe trying guys next, which she thought would be awesome. That night, I dreamed about a very, very cute guy undressing in my room. He stepped close to me, talking to me and touching me and pushing me backwards onto my bed. He crawled on top of me and was trying his damndest to turn me on. Hell, I was trying to turn myself on. But the whole time, I just kept thinking how I wasn’t really feeling anything. After maybe ten minutes of letting him try his thing, I finally said, “I’m just really, really gay.” And then I woke up. bwahahaha. At least I still know what’s up and what’s down – even if I’m not all that sure how to get it.

Hot Tub: a new kind of drunking out

I held a very small housewarming party last Friday. I wanted to show people my new apartment and get some mileage out of the giganto twisty-turny pool that roams the courtyard. People headed over after work and we grilled veggies and veggie burgers, and steaks. There was much beer handed around and I tossed back some whiskey. There were even jello shots later in the night.

Pix showed up a little after the party started due to a crazy work schedule. I was well into my second beer and the bottom sixth of a whiskey bottle. The sun had just started to go down, so there wasn’t much pool time left. The slight breeze would have made it pretty uncomfortable to swim in.

Some of the guys, and a friend, Nicole, had just finished cooking the food, so we all huddled on a circular picnic table and stuffed our faces. I joked around with my friends and tried to keep in physical contact with Pix. I was hoping my proximity and the wealth of food would help de-stress her. It’d been a looong week.

You know, it took about an hour to get the coals hot enough to cook on, and it only took about 10 minutes to plow through all the food. Figures. It wasn’t long before we were all grumbling about full bellies and complaining about the cool weather. I suggested we pile into the hot tub. That seemed to perk everyone up and we abandoned our table and crunched through gravel and ornamental plants to the decked hot tub. We eagerly jumped in. And wow, did the complaints start flowing. Hot tub? Seemed more like a warm tub. Where was the button to get everything hotter? Could we get a maintenance person to hike up the temperature? After a few drunken stumblings and not-so-suave tamperings, we left well enough alone and resigned ourselves to sitting in a lukewarm pool. Better than swimming in the actual pool.

There was a lot of talking. And there was a lot of rough-housing. At one point, one friend had me upside down and was dunking me into the pool. My drunken brain started to panic and I knocked him once in the balls. He dropped me and went under. I thought that was pretty hilarious. I’m sure he doesn’t agree. But hey, I was pretty sure I’d have a bruise on my boob from where he’d accidentally knocked his teeth while struggling with me. Fair enough. We spent the next half-hour discussing whether or not I should have hit him in the balls. I stick to my decision.

Then I turned to my right and saw Pix talking to Nicole. I can’t remember the full details, but at one point, Nicole grabbed Pix’s foot and pulled it into her lap. Pix pulled away and went to the other side of the tub, not wanting to put herself in a sexually charged situation, I guess. At the time, my tipsy brain took entirely too long to figure this out. I thought maybe Pix was mad at Nicole for something. I was wrong and we started to joke about her making out with Nicole. Nicole stated she would be into that. We joked some more, before it became apparent that she really would be into it, and would me and Pix be, too? Pix didn’t really give an indication one way or the other, just looked at me for my opinion. Honestly, I was curious. Ever since the monogamy discussion (and the ones that followed), I was really curious about how I would react in such a situation. I voiced my consent.

I think I was more comfortable with the idea of Pix kissing someone else, if I was kissing them, too. So, nervous as I was, I had Pix kiss Nicole first. And I watched. And I felt. Was I jealous? Sad? Hurt? There was a brief panicky feeling. Would she like kissing her more? Did I just end my relationship? Then Nicole kissed me, too. And Pix pulled me close, putting her arm around me. And I calmed.

I’ve got to explain that the experience was nice and new. But not necessary. I never once felt like maybe Pix would need me to do this all the time, in order to stay with me. I felt like it was an added bonus. Something we just did because the opportunity presented itself and we were both interested. I knew that all I had to do was voice my discontent and we would stop. Pix remained in constant contact with me and even when she was kissing Nicole, I felt like she still had me in mind, still knew I was there. And this helped allay a lot of fears I had on this very issue. Fears that Pix would leave me if I let her experience other people. Fears that I would feel dirty and wrong if I touched someone else. Fears that even though I was open to all these new boundaries, I was deluding myself and opening myself up to more pain. Fears that, if I let it happen once, I’d feel obligated to let it happen all the time.

None of those fears came to fruition. I got to experiment a little with my wants and needs and, amazingly enough, came out intact and still happy.

Drunking: Little Woodrow’s

So, last night was triva Tuesday again. And I went, again. I’ve gone multiple times now and each night has ended with me making out with a drunk Kasey before we each head home. She invited me home one night, but I turned her down in a small fit of sobriety that told me I really didn’t want to go home with her.

And yet, I keep making out with her. Don’t get me wrong. She’s pretty awesome. She’s cute, and funny, and I love her taste in music. She calls me and every other woman “lady” but in a cute, polite sounding way. I can’t express what a great person she is. But she isn’t looking for a relationship and she only ever wants to make out when she’s been drinking. It’s kinda draining. To the ego and the libido. And despite my track record, I’m not much for hooking up for the sake of hooking up. I haven’t quite learned how to separate my feelings from my crotch, sorry.

Anyway, we made out by her car for a while (instead of at Little Woodrow’s because Ashley had previously expressed her discomfort in seeing me make out with random people – don’t ask why, yet again, I was hanging out at a bar with my ex). Tonight made it pretty apparent to me that this thing between Kasey and I will never go beyond alcohol-induced makeout sessions. I’m going to have to distance myself from Kasey, if just for a little while. I’ve decided I don’t like being a drunk thing. Not repeatedly. Especially when I’m only one of many. I know it’s just making out, but if the woman can do it with so many others, well, it just makes me feel that much cheaper.

Drunking/Hookup: G & S

I went out around 6:30 yesterday to watch a kickball game. I wanted to see Kasey somewhere that didn’t include millions of rugby girls and not so much alcohol. I only half succeeded. I hope that the fact that the girls I’m interested in seem to always be drunk isn’t a pattern I need to analyze. It probably is. Damn it. Anyway, we ended up at G and S, drinking, talking, and most of them smoking. It was actually pretty fun getting to know different people. I didn’t really have anyone to latch onto since I don’t know Kasey all that well. So I made my rounds and let my more outgoing side take over.

I’m a bit of an attention whore, but usually only with people who know me. When I’m in a crowd of strangers, it takes a lot more to get me out of my shell. I mean, I know that most of my friends will remain my friends no matter what I say or do. But strangers? Who knows what can get me beat up?

We stayed pretty late in the night. I didn’t really get more than buzzed. But I still classify this as drunking since Kasey got drunk off her ass. She started to feel me up in front of her friends, her hand rubbing my thigh. That didn’t really bother me. I’m very much into PDA and am quite skanky after even one drink. Okay, I’m probably just skanky by nature, but wait until I’ve had at least one drink to blame it on.

She left to get another pitcher of beer and I got bored waiting for her and sitting outside amongst all the smokers. So, I went inside to see the pool games and video games the rest of the group was playing. I ran into Kasey by the second bar (there are two in this place) and she set her pitcher down and made out with me in front of the group. Again, no complaints.

About thirty minutes later, I was sitting inside watching some women play pool when Kasey came up and pulled me from my seat. She led me to the one-person women’s restroom and yanked me inside. I’ve never made out in the bathroom. Well, until now.

I can’t really say it’s the best thing ever. I mean…it’s a public restroom. I’ve never really understood the fascination.

I left Kasey in the capable hands of her roommate (who we had to call to get her) and drove home around midnight.

Drunking: Mother Egan’s and JBlacks

Last night, I went to trivia night with some friends at Mother Egan’s. It’s like seven rounds of trivia that gets so hard you begin to wonder if you ever really learned ANYTHING in college. But, it’s a good excuse to hang out with friends and drink a bunch of Fireman #4 and tequila. Heavy emphasis on the tequila.

By the end of the night, probably about 10, I had been eying one of the women in the group and trying my damnedest to flirt. I wasn’t getting anywhere. So, instead, I decided not to waste the night and tried convincing everyone to go to JBlacks, since I knew Katherine would be working there and I’d at least get to hang out with someone. Before heading over, we stood around like idiots waiting for Ashley to get out of the bathroom. Meanwhile, a woman walked by and accidentally bumped into me. She drunkenly apologized and kissed me on the cheek. A minute later, she passed by again and I told her there was a toll to pass and tapped my cheek for another kiss – which she gave me. A few minutes passed and I was talking to someone in the group about something mundane when I hear, “Third time!” and the same woman appears and gives me another kiss. This time, I tell her that nope, a kiss on the cheek won’t do it anymore. So she grabbed my face and planted a much nicer, longer kiss on my lips, before disappearing in the crowd.

We headed over to JBlacks. And somehow, while there, I got into a fake/real argument with Ashley over which one of us could beat the other one up. Yeah, yeah, we have always had pissing matches and it’s subjective who the winner ever is. Anyway, Kasey, a woman in the group, stood up to “stop” our “fight”. I’m not sure how, but Ash ended up sitting back down and Kasey and I ended up staring at each other for probably more than one not-so-sober minute. She said something corny, I said something corny in return, and then we practically threw ourselves into each other’s laps and spent the next hour or so making out on JBlack’s couches, floor, and yes, even in the back alley. I’m just going to have to classify the whole night as a drunking experience.

Drunking: Rusty Spurs

It started out innocently enough. I needed a date for New Year’s Eve and Craigslist was going to help me out. I was planning on hanging out with friends that night, but they’re all one half of a couple and I needed someone to make me feel less inadequate. If just for the night.

I spent hours writing my CL ad and picking a photo of myself that I thought was both cute and, you know, actually representative of me so that no one would be surprised when they saw me in real life. And in came the emails. Dozens of emails, half of which were not-so-cleverly disguised ads for porn sites (I still managed to download a virus onto TWO computers. Go, me). The other half were real women wanting to either make a new friend or find a New Year’s makeout buddy.

I weeded through and ended up with two women. One I was really interested in and one that was really interested in me. The latter, Lisa, was the one I ended up meeting on New Year’s.

The night of, I actually didn’t end up downtown until 10 minutes before the ball dropped. There I was, alone, in a crowded gay bar with tons of greedy lesbians trying to catch and pop the money-filled balloons falling from the ceiling. Lisa and I were texting back and forth but it was difficult to find anyone in that crowd. The countdown began and ended and I watched dozens of couples share a sweet, romantic, New Year’s kiss I’ve yet to experience. I walked to the connecting bar next door and ordered myself a pity round.

I was two or three drinks in when Lisa finally managed to find me. She introduced herself and her friend to my friends and I tipsily followed her to the back patio for another drink and some dancing.
This is where it went from innocent getting-to-know-you fun to drunking: my term for, well, anything physical that mostly happens because I’m too inebriated to realize I’d normally rather chew off my arm than do something like that in public.

We danced and sloshed beers over each other and danced some more. She pulled me up behind her and rubbed herself down my body, bringing my hands up to cup her breasts. Yep, I was definitely drunk at this point and loving every second. I knew my friends were ready to go home. It was two in the morning and the bar was no longer allowing new people inside. But I wanted something. My drunk self knew I hadn’t planned this whole outing just to go home empty handed.

I used a not-so-suave line, something straight-forward like, “Are you going to let me leave without kissing me?” and proceeded to spend the next ten minutes in makeout heaven. Lisa decided I should go home with her and her friend. I decided that sounded like an awesome idea. Most of my friends were so drunk, they also thought it was a grand plan. Luckily, my one sober friend stopped us all in our tracks, demanded we leave, and proceeded to drag me out of the bar.

I sobered up about 10 blocks later and immediately began thanking my friend for not letting me go home with someone I don’t even know. She was such a lifesaver. Berry, I think.