Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Cartouches and Firefly - How to remember the bad times and forget the good.

I realized a few minutes ago that when I talk about actual occurrences, it's probably more entertaining than talking about what I need to do in the future and blah blah blah. My reality is actually quite entertaining sometimes. Therefore, I will tell you about my weekend.

Earlier last week my best friend, B's sister (we'll just call her Sister) asked if she could borrow my car for her daughter's first basketball game on Saturday. This was perfectly great since I had made plans to meet this guy that I had spoken to online for a bit for dinner. He was cooking, and I never turn down a homecooked meal. He also lived a total of 5 minutes from Sister, so it worked out swimmingly. I had also agreed on Saturday to help my coworker and good friend the Mexican move from his apartment in Brooklyn to his new apartment in Astoria (which really makes me sad actually, but he knows this and it couldn't be avoided). On top of helping the Mexican move, I had agreed to go to birthday celebration with the Bodyguard in Manhattan and who also lives in the Bronx so that I could go back to Sister's on Saturday night and take my car home on Sunday.

Everything was planned tightly, just how I like it.

Friday night was a really interesting experience. I decided to go shopping after work because Saturday night there was a party at this club in the Bronx that I was supposed to go to with the Bodyguard and it was animal print themed and me, who typically hates prints, had nothing to wear. So I took a nice hour long trip to my favorite store, Arden B, to get some form of acceptable outfit along with a few other items here and there. I get home around 8 and try to pull myself together to go to the Bronx for dinner with a guy I'll call Spirituality Zealot (SZ). Now I didn't know this about him before I got there, we got along decently well, and as I said, I never turn down a homecooked meal. It took me a while to get my shit together honestly, as I was talking to B for a while because she was coming into her town for her niece's basketball game and I tend to dilly dally a lot.

At 9:30pm I left the house with my weekend bag packed, which included about 5 different outfits and of course, two bottles of liquor. So I get to SZ's apartment and outside there are little hoodlum kids and I'm not feeling the most comfortable in the world, and he finally comes out of his building and I get to go up a five floor walk up listening to this tweenager spit some rap bullshit about "fucking bitches" and "smacking up a ho" or something to that effect. I did a lot of eyerolling, but I looked great otherwise! We got upstairs and it was actually really cute. His apartment was tidy and he was still finishing cooking and in the living room was a small table with two candles on it and the lights were all low, or off because it was "hot from cooking", or he was just trying to set some kind of mood. I thought it was sweet and a bit romantic.

He wouldn't let me see what he was making and so I just wandered around the apartment and into his room where his room was covered with random pictures from magazines and weird other stuff. It was like being in a nerdy teenager's room with poor taste in art, but I humored him. I saw some Egyptian ruins and these two cartouche's and me trying to be classy, I asked him what the hieroglyphics in them said - and honestly I don't think he even knew what a cartouche was (to the left), even though he had one on his wall. He tried to play it off though and that was the beginning of a downslide - or at least the hint of it.

I tried to make conversation based on the random things on his walls and the empty fishtank in his room and over the sound of the air purifier that took "white noise" to a whole new really loud level. Soon enough we sat down at dinner, and he had picked up the type of wine I like, which I thought was sweet - even though I was a little disappointed he didn't know what Riesling is. We started to eat and the garlic bread was awesome, white the spaghetti was bland (DESPERATELY needed salt, and was a bit overcooked) and the chicken parm was...well just a thin cutlet with tomato sauce. It was the gesture that mattered though, so I applauded his efforts and got over the subpar food, taking in a glass of Riesling as if it would provide a little flavor to the meal.

I got all the flavor I needed/wanted though, in his conversation. He told me about his passion for studying and how he likes to study all the time about mythology and religions and old cultures. That's fine, not really my thing, but I did love learning about the Greek and Egyptian mythology, so I tried to relate. I asked him a few questions here and there, but I soon realized he was something like a zealot and he was trying to impress me with his knowledge of religion. Honestly, I thought this was ludicrous because I told him immediately that I did not believe in God, I was not religious by any means and that I was in fact agnostic. He tried to talk to me about the "Nostics". This was pretty much all he was talking about, how people loved talking to him because they felt like he was enlightening them and he had all of this knowledge and how he liked to analyze everything. He mentioned he didn't like watching movies for entertainment, he liked watching them to analyze them for religious nuances and a "message". (what the hell is that all about?)

Basically, this guy stood for everything I stand against. I am not spiritual. I am not a fanatic in any way. I do not study religion, and I am not spiritual (bears repeating). I take most things at face value and don't try to read too much into a "message". When he told me he wrote an 8 page paper analyzing some stupid movie and the hidden meanings, I shut down.

He kept trying. He kept patting himself on the back and saying he thought he was doing a great job. I forgot to tell you, he's black, as are most if not all of the men I talk to. He made it clear to me however, that I was the first white girl that he had "talked to" and while I was really trying at first - I later asked him why he was trying to impress me. He was trying to get me liquored up and wanted to use that as an excuse for me starting to get...a little mean, but I had one glass of wine and then was nursing a cup of WATER for an hour. He kept drinking though, and it didn't get better. I didn't have anything left to say to him. I couldn't fake it and make up some interests, I told him there was no chemistry and I started to feel stupid for lying to him saying that I was attracted to him earlier. I was just trying to be nice because he said he was attracted to me.

It was pretty much time for me to get the fuck out of there faster than a rat with its tail on fire. I walked myself out and to my car and tried to shake off the awful experience I had just had with someone I had NOTHING in common with.

I was sitting in my car at almost 12am trying to figure out what to do next. I had been talking to this other guy in the Bronx for a little while and we were always joking about playing strip spades (so I will call him Spades). I got a hold of him and decided while I have my car and I'm in the Bronx and not really busy, I'll go see him. So I did.

He's Jamaican, and I know some other people have this thing about sitting on the bed with outside clothes on, but only Jamaicans are the ones I know who actually enforce this. So I ended up in his sweatpants and hoodie, freezing my ass off in his room watching Martin and Family Guy. Sadly, he has that exact swag that I'm attracted to. That playful "I'm not playing with you - do this" kind of attitude and he basically took control. Even with my playful denying him, we ended up hooking up. Yup - typical me, which is actually awful and I need to get this under control. I'm trying to be more selective although that was the second new guy I had hooked up with that week. May has been a big bounce-back from April, but hopefully it won't continue on this way.

Anyway, I was laying in the bed afterward with his clothes still on and he says "One for the road?" At that exact moment, I feel unwelcome. What I just heard him say is "Let's do this again and then you can get out. You can't sleep here." Which is fine, because I wasn't planning on sleeping there, but woah - that didn't feel good. So it's like 3am at this point and he says "Try and get it up for me again?" At this point, I laugh hysterically because why would you ask for another round if you weren't ready. I wasn't rushing and now that you made me feel like I need to leave, I sure as hell am not going to do anything to get you going again. You messed up your timing there buddy.

I stand up saying "Well make a decision now because as soon as I put my pants on it's done" and he says "Then help me out." So I finish putting on my pants, take off his hoodie and put on my shoes.

He walks me to the car and I'm at Sister's house in a half hour. B and I can't figure out anything else to do and we end up passing out shortly thereafter.

Saturday, Sister, B and Niece drop me at the train station with my weekend bag back in tow because I realize I didn't need to bring any of it with me and I make my way home. Amazingly enough - I can't remember anything ridiculous happening on the train, which is new.

I get home and the Mexican is there and we collect boxes from my basement and it turns out he got a small truck and his other friend is already driving so they don't need me, giving me ample nap time.

My DVR is full so I start watching some TV trying to clear some space and I eventually fall asleep, waking up late. I'm late to meet the Bodyguard, but then again she's always late herself so it's fine.

I decided on the train in order to pole dance (which is what we were going to do) I needed to be nice and tipsy. So I decided to bring a water bottle filled with Peach Tea Firefly vodka (which is DELICIOUS) which I purchased during my last trip to Philly where the booze are cheap and I stock up. I bought lemonade at the store which took me about 10 minutes to find, making me even later. I decided on the train to take a shot of vodka every time the train stopped and chase it with a sip of lemonade.

Union Square is 8 stops from my house. 28th and Lex is another two stops. I was a little buzzed at pole dancing, but it really hadn't hit me yet. I did a little bit of swinging on the pole but moreso took pics. Then we headed up to Johnny Utah's for some bullriding. At this point, the Firefly is lighting up my life and I'm starting to feel it. I smooth talked the bouncer, about what, I still don't remember. I convinced a guy who worked there to let me wear his Stetson when I rode the bull. (Of course I had just finished reading this romance novel about a British woman and a Texan with a Stetson, so I was really excited). Having had so much vodka though, my tastebuds could no longer sense "vodka" and I got an absolut on the rocks. I complained to the bartender because I wanted him to fill it up more and he kindly explained to me that that's what vodka on the rocks was and that the glass shouldn't be all the way filled up. I submitted. I hadn't eaten - this was a bad idea. I must eat before I drink, or at least while I'm drinking, but not when I'm already drunk.

We ordered wings. The wing that I ate ended up in the plastic bag with the souvenirs from pole dancing that Bodyguard and I got. I cleaned them of the wings and vodka later that night. I sat at the table by myself I think. I was blacked out. I don't remember anything after that except getting out of this girl's car at Sister's and BBMing B that I was on my way home. I know that I was coherent though.

I didn't get to ride the bull and I woke up the next morning at around 8am not knowing half of what happened.

There's another picture of me sleeping sitting up, but at least it's not in public.

B got to fill me in on some of the conversations I had that night. I'm funny when I drink, I just wish I could remember it.

Every time I go out with Bodyguard I go overboard. I'm not kidding. There's ONE occasion I can remember in all of the times we've hung out that I was not blackout drunk. The first time I met her was the first time I blacked out. Damn, I'm an embarrassment.

Needless to say I need to get my act together in more ways than one. I'm going to force myself to drink slowly from now on. There's no more of this chugging stuff. I need to learn to get gradually buzzed/drunk.

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