My fiance is at his bachelor party tonight in Las Vegas. So basically, while he is most likely fisting a trannie, I am having quiet, contemplative blog time. I got on Facebook which I am starting to realize may be live purgatory. Never have so many people who have mutually mistreated eachother in the past been able to share a virtual space so easily. It's so weird--we all seem to be gluttons for curiousity...followed by punishment. You wonder where your 9th grade boyfriend is, you find him, become his "friend", and then every time you log in, you have to see some queer play-by-play of his life. Example: "BLANK is hitting himself that he did not bet on that Red Sox/Yankees game!" ...Well, I guess there is a little comfort in knowing once a degenerate, always a degenerate. So this segues nicely into a strange phenomenon that seems to occur as you get close to your wedding. You go on a little mental journey of the relationship experiences that got you to where you are now. Lately, I have been doing the equivalent of an "Inside the Actor's Studio" episode in my head. I sit down with myself and do a retrospective of my earlier work. It's fun and painful at the same time. It's like when famous actors or musicians talk about when they first moved to the big city and were living on a can of tuna fish or a cup of ramen noodles a day. Many of my past relationships were ramen noodles and tuna. Survival food but not delicious or satisfying by any means. And I will not do my fiance the injustice of comparing him to a deeply satisfying food (but if I were, I would say he is fillet Mignon:)
My five years in New York were an especially wacky time, dating wise. I moved there in at age 22 to finish college and lived alone in Brooklyn. Unfortunately, no one had forewarned me of the greatest AND worst thing about New York: 24 hour Greek diners...that deliver. I was packing in the gyros and slices of blueberry pie like nobody's business. I had no idea that I had gained 20 pounds until I saw a picture. I was shocked. But still hungry. So, I went to "CP Shades", asked if they had any pants with elastic, and forged on. I had some very odd experiences in the process. No one ever came to Brooklyn. Just an ex who I occasionally still slept with when I would come back to LA but even he (the most non-judgemental person ever) seemed a bit startled by my new and puffier appearance. Then I moved to the Upper West Side. And finally joined a gym. But my confidence was still all messed up. I began this strange pattern of making very very close guy friends who I would spend all of my time with. Then I would decide that friendship meant love. I would pine over them, eventually admit my feelings, and they would freak out in one way or another. Then I would get offended and sad, say I needed some time apart, and then they would realize they actually did have feelings for me. However, by that time, I had usually moved on...
There were a few blind dates. And by blind, I mean I had to be fucking blind to agree to go out with these guys upon meeting them. One was great on paper. He was a South African Jew who was in a post graduate program at Colombia to become a psycho-pharmacologist. He was polite enough at dinner but in retrospect, did throw a few clues about sexual deviance. It's so sad to look back at a lonelier version of yourself and see the things you chose to ignore for the sake of flattery and company. The night I went out with the South African Jew happened to be the same night that John Kennedy Jr's plane was being looked for off the coast of Martha's Vineyard. It was on everyone's mind. So, he had a great excuse to come up to my apartment. He wanted to see the status of John John. As we watched the news, I sat on the other side of the room to indicate my lack of attraction. But unfortunately, this being a New York studio, the other side of the room was only about 4 1/2 feet away. The next thing I knew, SAJ had made some sort of intricate lunge and was dry humping me. I told him he had skipped about 5 steps. He got embarrassed and pulled himself off of me, apologizing profusely. My mind had now kicked into scared mode and I was trying to figure out an exit strategy. As I was thinking, he began creepily massaging my shoulders, saying we could just "ease into it". Um...Before I knew it, I was being dryhumped again. I reached for my cell phone (which was gargantuan being that it was 1999) and threatened to hit him in the head with it if he did not get off. Thankfully, he did. But he really did save the best for last. As he made motions to leave (the first normal move all night), he asked if he could first "finish up" in my bathroom. I had gotten him way too excited. I think someone should have invented a name for the sound which then came out of my mouth. It was a combination of "NOOOOOOOO" and "EWWWWWWW".
Well, needless to say, he is one character I have not researched on Facebook. But if I ever decide to, at least I'll know what network to look in: FUCKIN' CREEPY.
