“Your Words Don’t Stick. I ‘aint Perfect, But You ‘aint Either”
I realized I had made a huge mistake by inviting him, the second he started to get comfortable with everyone at the party.
It all started innocently enough. The ‘Big Gay House’ was packed with fabulous gorgeous boys, bouncing and dancing to Britney’s new album. We were all playing beer pong in one room, taking shots in the kitchen, making out in the stairwell, and smoking outside, all at once, all in a loud, colorful blur.
Jimmy was clearly out of his element; he was in a city he never came to, in a house full of gay men that he had never met. It was only natural for him to feel a little bit awkward or out of place for a while, until he warmed up to everyone. I of course did the best friend duty all night long: I introduced him to everyone, made sure his drink was always full, and smoked with him whenever he needed one-on-one time. That’s when the evening took a turn for the worse.
I am very good about not letting anyone get me down. If I have a moment of weakness, I am EVEN BETTER at hiding it. The last time I was comfortable enough to boldly show anyone my character flaws, we stopped being friends, and he moved in with a man who not only has an immense distaste for me, but actively tries to fuck my life. To say the least, that relationship yielded.
“You know how much Kyle means to me. Not only is he kind-hearted and genuine, but he’s a virgin, and you CAN’T just fuck him. I won’t allow it,” I said simply, crossing my arms. “He’s looking for someone who he can trust and be with, and not to just a hookup. You have to be… gentle when it comes to Kyle. He means a lot to me.”
“Matty B., we are both adults. If I want to fuck him, I’m going to. He can make that decision on his own, with out you butting in. I’ll fuck who I want, when I want, regardless of what you have to say about it-”
“You’re acting like the type of person that Kyle will see right through, and would never be with, just so you know.” I replied as I shifted my weight from one leg to the other and snapped at him.
I was right.
It was almost two am. We had been fighting off and on, all night long, a different issue each time. He had been yelling at me for about two and a half cigarettes, (I was going to guess about 25 minutes or so) when I felt our friendship start to die.
The cold enveloped my body like ice water, but I didn’t feel a thing. I didn’t even hear the hateful things that Jimmy was drunkenly slurring six inches in my face. I could see the small bits of spit flying out of his mouth, and wondered if any of it was landing on my makeup. I was completely numb to him. The world was silent, and in slow motion. Each one of his words were slowly sculpted by his lips; foam colleting in the corners. It was like watching the tides of the ocean rush in, and slide out… rush in, and slide out. It was calming, which resulted in a small smile. This sent him into another fit of rage.
Time passed, and soon the ocean of words that were pouring from his mouth, became boring and repetitive. I slowly turned my back to him to walk inside, dismissing him, when he grabbed my arm with a maliciously firm grasp. Suddenly the world hit play, and the volume of his words were being blasted in my face. It was GO time.
I whipped my head around in a brunette flourish, and was looming over him, my eyes large, and body firm, my words soft and precise.
“What are you going to do Jimmy? Hit me? Do it. I’ve been hit before, and it wouldn’t surprise me that you would resort to violence, when things aren’t going your way.”
I ripped my arm out of his hand. He was clearly startled, and hadn’t expected me to be so convincing, so honest. He quickly recovered, and leaned in close to my face, attempting to regain what he thought was the alpha position. What he didn’t understand was that he never had that position. I allowed him to feel like he did, so as to not to tempt his drunken aggression.
You see, Jimmy is a very emotional and aggressive drunk. Everybody knows it, especially me. I usually know how to keep a handle on the situation, but tonight, I didn’t care. I am usually a little apprehensive when I’m with him, because he can be so unpredictable when he drinks. Tonight, I didn’t care what he did. He crossed many lines, and he had to know.
“You think I would hit you Matty? You think I would actually fuckin’ do that? You think I would?”
“You’re an inch from my face, aren’t you?” I replied curtly.
“I can’t believe that you would think that. After everything I’ve done. After all this time, you think that of me,” he yelled into my face, continuously spitting all over my makeup.
After one sentence from me, the world had gone silent again. Jimmy was back to being the star of this independent teen-angst film. I was just a filler-role, fulfilling my brief one liner, before he could continue his monotonous monologue. It was exhausting. I looked down at him, directly in the eyes. I looked past his clothes, past his words, and into his heart.
“Matty! You never let anyone in! How do you expect anyone to love you if you can’t ever let down your wall for a fucking second? No relationship you are ever going have is going to work! What? Are you jealous that I’ve fucked Zach and Asia, but not you? What is it? What the fuck is your problem? No wonder it didn’t work with Scott, or Nama, or John.. should I continue?”
I looked away from him. Cold tears crept down my hot cheeks, slowly at first, and then faster until it was a thin, steady flow. What he didn’t understand was that I wasn’t crying. I wasn’t upset that he was calling me out on all my failed relationships. I know I’m not perfect. I can’t even explain what exactly I was feeling. I wasn’t emotional at all.
I had come to the overwhelming realization at that moment, that he didn’t get it. He was witnessing my heart break, right before his eyes. I came to the cold, hard realization that he wasn’t my friend, and he wouldn’t ever be. I thought that after all the shit we had been through, he would be the one I could honestly call my friend. In that instant, after hearing the words that came out of his mouth, I decided that it was over. After all of the sculpting, culturing, and hard work of developing him into this amazing person that I would be proud to call my BFF, it had ended with a tear. He was a lost cause. And even I couldn’t do anything about that.
I smiled at him, and rubbed his shoulder. It wasn’t his fault. He just wasn’t the one. He has put me through some tough shit over this past year, and I thought we had gotten past all of it, but he never learned. More importantly, he didn’t even realize what he was doing, or that treating your friends like a disposable Kleenex was wrong. I winked off the tears, and took a deep breath. I was going to have to start all over with someone else. At least I realized it now, and not in five years, when I’d have really grown attached.
I flew up the stairs and into the bathroom. Before anyone could even get up the stairs, I was already descending down them, my face completely flawless again, with a white smile, and a cocktail.
My new friend Bay, whom I had met earlier that night, came over to me a few minutes later.
“Hey Matty, are you alright? He was looking pretty bossy out there,” referring to the hour long feud that had taken place out back, on the other side of two very large (and very transparent) sliding glass doors.
“Nothing a little MAC can’t fix, right?” I replied with a painful smile.
“Lets go have a drink, Beautiful.” He smiled, as he wrapped his arm around me and led me to the kitchen, where I gracefully maneuvered around where someone had thrown up earlier that night.
“I couldn’t agree with you more!”
I truly believed that Jimmy was going to be the one I could talk to, the one I could be honest to. After months and months of ground work with him, I thought he would turn out to be a decent guy. As of now, I was wrong. Who knows what the future will hold. Unfortunately with him, I’m not optimistic.
Matty B.
Friday, December 12, 2008
"Like Shattered Glass-"
I cooked for him. I prepared baked chicken teriyaki over steamed rice, with fresh vegetable stir fry, and a white wine. While we were sitting there eating, I looked over at him as he dove in head first to his meal. I silently smiled to myself when I saw a mouth full of food behind a grin. The meal had taken two hours, but it was all worth it, at that very moment. What he didn’t know yet, was that I had baked blueberry muffins to eat the following morning, for breakfast.
Afterwards we went upstairs and sat on my bed, where we played scrabble and chess. I totally kicked his ass at Scrabble (the entire game), but he barely redeemed himself by winning at chess afterwards. This is going to sound stupid, I know, but I was legitimately happy. I had no desire to go out with my boys. I didn’t want a cocktail, or to go dancing. Hell, I didn’t even want a cigarette or need to smoke. Sitting there with this socially awkward kid was not just great, but things were… okay.
He slid his hands under my sweat pants, and gently touched my freshly shaven skin. I recently started working out again, and my muscles were throbbing with the satisfaction of actually being used. Without saying a word, his hands found my most sensitive spot on my calf, and tenderly started working the muscle free from tension’s grips.
I
looked at him. I REALLY looked at him, to get a good read of who he was. He seemed like this great intuitive guy, who was absolutely gorgeous, was incredibly smart, 100% introverted, with this strained manic laugh, that would normally irritate me, but didn’t. The only problem was that no matter how hard I tried to get him to open up, he wouldn’t. …or couldn’t. I didn’t know if he’s guarded, or just insensitive. But I was willing to work through that, to see what was inside.
We were lying in my bed, and although he is significantly taller than me, I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight. He held me tighter, and turned around to kiss me. I slept the entire night holding him, the soft skin of my cheek lying gently pressed to his smooth, strong back. I felt my heart smile.
“I am.”
A few moments pass.
“Well yeah, I prolly should have told you. Just never thought about it”
A couple minutes pass.
“And they’ve mostly been dates. Nothing that’s been going on a long time.”
I felt my heart sink out of my chest and onto the ground. i haven’t slept in 28 hours, and I can’t even imagine trying to sleep before I try and get this out of me.
Five weeks ago, we were standing at a bus stop, slow dancing with each other as cars sped past, the night cool, his body warm. He pulled me in closer, held me tight, and kissed me deep. Strangers passing, horns honking; the world was silent, because I was the star of a Clark Gable movie, and nothing was going to ruin that.
Two weeks ago we were sitting in my car in the middle of the night, talking for hours, learning about each other. The night was so cold, that my windshield had frozen over, and I had to periodically turn on the car, just to keep us from getting frostbite. I told him that I wanted more. That I wanted him. I wanted to walk in that direction.
Last weekend I cooked for him. That person I cooked for was not only my best friend in the whole world, but I loved him to the stars and back. It takes a lot for me to kind of put myself out there, and really provide for someone. I’m so used to taking care of only myself that it means a lot for me to do something like that. It’s almost…. Personal. It’s been years since I’ve done that for someone.
Just now I told him that I wasn’t dating either of the guys that I had been with the past few months, anymore. He told me that he had started seeing other people.
I am beyond words. I don’t even understand how to feel, how to react, or what to do with that. I feel deranged. That could be the result of sleep deprivation, though. Help?
Matty B.
I cooked for him. I prepared baked chicken teriyaki over steamed rice, with fresh vegetable stir fry, and a white wine. While we were sitting there eating, I looked over at him as he dove in head first to his meal. I silently smiled to myself when I saw a mouth full of food behind a grin. The meal had taken two hours, but it was all worth it, at that very moment. What he didn’t know yet, was that I had baked blueberry muffins to eat the following morning, for breakfast.
Afterwards we went upstairs and sat on my bed, where we played scrabble and chess. I totally kicked his ass at Scrabble (the entire game), but he barely redeemed himself by winning at chess afterwards. This is going to sound stupid, I know, but I was legitimately happy. I had no desire to go out with my boys. I didn’t want a cocktail, or to go dancing. Hell, I didn’t even want a cigarette or need to smoke. Sitting there with this socially awkward kid was not just great, but things were… okay.
He slid his hands under my sweat pants, and gently touched my freshly shaven skin. I recently started working out again, and my muscles were throbbing with the satisfaction of actually being used. Without saying a word, his hands found my most sensitive spot on my calf, and tenderly started working the muscle free from tension’s grips.
I
looked at him. I REALLY looked at him, to get a good read of who he was. He seemed like this great intuitive guy, who was absolutely gorgeous, was incredibly smart, 100% introverted, with this strained manic laugh, that would normally irritate me, but didn’t. The only problem was that no matter how hard I tried to get him to open up, he wouldn’t. …or couldn’t. I didn’t know if he’s guarded, or just insensitive. But I was willing to work through that, to see what was inside.
We were lying in my bed, and although he is significantly taller than me, I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight. He held me tighter, and turned around to kiss me. I slept the entire night holding him, the soft skin of my cheek lying gently pressed to his smooth, strong back. I felt my heart smile.
“I am.”
A few moments pass.
“Well yeah, I prolly should have told you. Just never thought about it”
A couple minutes pass.
“And they’ve mostly been dates. Nothing that’s been going on a long time.”
I felt my heart sink out of my chest and onto the ground. i haven’t slept in 28 hours, and I can’t even imagine trying to sleep before I try and get this out of me.
Five weeks ago, we were standing at a bus stop, slow dancing with each other as cars sped past, the night cool, his body warm. He pulled me in closer, held me tight, and kissed me deep. Strangers passing, horns honking; the world was silent, because I was the star of a Clark Gable movie, and nothing was going to ruin that.
Two weeks ago we were sitting in my car in the middle of the night, talking for hours, learning about each other. The night was so cold, that my windshield had frozen over, and I had to periodically turn on the car, just to keep us from getting frostbite. I told him that I wanted more. That I wanted him. I wanted to walk in that direction.
Last weekend I cooked for him. That person I cooked for was not only my best friend in the whole world, but I loved him to the stars and back. It takes a lot for me to kind of put myself out there, and really provide for someone. I’m so used to taking care of only myself that it means a lot for me to do something like that. It’s almost…. Personal. It’s been years since I’ve done that for someone.
Just now I told him that I wasn’t dating either of the guys that I had been with the past few months, anymore. He told me that he had started seeing other people.
I am beyond words. I don’t even understand how to feel, how to react, or what to do with that. I feel deranged. That could be the result of sleep deprivation, though. Help?
Matty B.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
“Sticky and Sweet”
Once upon a (recent) Thursday night at Tracks, I was a very drunk boy, who was spilling his heart out (between taking shots) to a very beautiful and wise drag queen in the DJ booth at Tracks. I told her about how the last few boys I was fixed on were lying, cheating, dirty boys who apparently needed more attention than I could give them. I poured out how they were seeing other boys, and lied to me about it, as I poured over my steadily decreasing martini.
She placed the headphones that she was holding up to one ear onto the booth, took the drink out of my hand, delicately whisked the rest of the light green liquid into her mouth (without as much as a lipstick mark), and leaned in close, so I could hear what she had to say.
“Beautiful, how long have I known you?”
“Years?” I gasped, rolling my eyes and dramatically throwing my arm over my head; draping my body onto the vinyl albums, next to the neon green and pink turntables.
“Matty B., I have seen you select men of your choice out of the crowd, take them home, and try to domesticate them. Sweetheart, men here are dogs. You take ‘em home, scratch their bellies, slap a leash on them for a walk around Cheeseman Park (to attract other men with dogs), and then you release them at a big farm, where they can run free. Yes, they might lick your face, put their nose in your butt when you least expect it, cuddle with you in bed, and hump your leg every so often, but a DOG can’t ever love you as much as you love him. It doesn’t matter if you feed him, give him baths, and clean up his shit. Unless YOU are a dog too, it won’t ever work out. Trust me sugar pie, you are not a dog, and that’s why we love about you.”
I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do with all of this truth, which was cleverly draped in wit and humor. A few moments passed while Christina Aguilara belted her final notes of the evening. The lights flickered on, and my dumbfounded expression quickly changed to skepticism, as I took a delicate sip of her Bacardi and Coke.
“What? You don’t believe me? Look at them.” She said as I peered out of the DJ Booth, and down onto the illuminated dance floor. 1:30am, and security was herding the gays like cattle out through a little double door on the far end of the club. Her description was not only incredibly accurate, but the sweaty shirtless men started to all look the same. Dirty, panting, sticky, messy, and with one thing on their mind: getting out that door, and finding another dog to get off on. They pushed, bit, and snarled at each other, spitting and drooling everywhere. She was right, they were filthy, and I was a fool.
I slid open my Helio to text my boys, to see if they had been herded out with the vermin, but they beat me to the punch. Jimmy was already calling to see where I had slinked off to. Everybody knows that you couldn’t possibly retain any dignity if you are still in the club when the lights come on, all sweaty, makeup running, and shirtless. Like true social veterans, we would immediately react when our cell phone alarms went off (set to 1:25 am), warning us we had a 5 minutes to escape through the front, before we were harshly unveiled by the fluorescent lights.
After everyone had left, I walked around saying goodbye (carefully stepping Around broken glass, empty coke baggies and torn clothing) to all the bartenders, security, and Erik (the club manager), giving ample amount of time for the police officers out front to break up the fights between the lesbians, and for the gays to drunkenly drive to Denver Diner. Jimmy pulled the car around, and I hopped down the steps and into the back of his car, hungrily awaiting biscuits and gravy.
As we drove away, I looked back to see a pack of boys grunting slobbering, and howling, in the parking lot next to the club. Maybe DJ Markie was right. As we sped away, my phone vibrated. John, a very cute boy that bought me a drink earlier that night, sent me a text wondering where I was, and what I was doing now that the club was closed. I thought about it for a minute, trying to decide whether or not to invite him along with us. After a few minutes, it was decided. It wouldn’t hurt to take this cute pup out for a run around the block… just as long as I remembered that that was all it was: a run around the block with a cute dog.
Matty B .
Once upon a (recent) Thursday night at Tracks, I was a very drunk boy, who was spilling his heart out (between taking shots) to a very beautiful and wise drag queen in the DJ booth at Tracks. I told her about how the last few boys I was fixed on were lying, cheating, dirty boys who apparently needed more attention than I could give them. I poured out how they were seeing other boys, and lied to me about it, as I poured over my steadily decreasing martini.
She placed the headphones that she was holding up to one ear onto the booth, took the drink out of my hand, delicately whisked the rest of the light green liquid into her mouth (without as much as a lipstick mark), and leaned in close, so I could hear what she had to say.
“Beautiful, how long have I known you?”
“Years?” I gasped, rolling my eyes and dramatically throwing my arm over my head; draping my body onto the vinyl albums, next to the neon green and pink turntables.
“Matty B., I have seen you select men of your choice out of the crowd, take them home, and try to domesticate them. Sweetheart, men here are dogs. You take ‘em home, scratch their bellies, slap a leash on them for a walk around Cheeseman Park (to attract other men with dogs), and then you release them at a big farm, where they can run free. Yes, they might lick your face, put their nose in your butt when you least expect it, cuddle with you in bed, and hump your leg every so often, but a DOG can’t ever love you as much as you love him. It doesn’t matter if you feed him, give him baths, and clean up his shit. Unless YOU are a dog too, it won’t ever work out. Trust me sugar pie, you are not a dog, and that’s why we love about you.”
I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do with all of this truth, which was cleverly draped in wit and humor. A few moments passed while Christina Aguilara belted her final notes of the evening. The lights flickered on, and my dumbfounded expression quickly changed to skepticism, as I took a delicate sip of her Bacardi and Coke.
“What? You don’t believe me? Look at them.” She said as I peered out of the DJ Booth, and down onto the illuminated dance floor. 1:30am, and security was herding the gays like cattle out through a little double door on the far end of the club. Her description was not only incredibly accurate, but the sweaty shirtless men started to all look the same. Dirty, panting, sticky, messy, and with one thing on their mind: getting out that door, and finding another dog to get off on. They pushed, bit, and snarled at each other, spitting and drooling everywhere. She was right, they were filthy, and I was a fool.
I slid open my Helio to text my boys, to see if they had been herded out with the vermin, but they beat me to the punch. Jimmy was already calling to see where I had slinked off to. Everybody knows that you couldn’t possibly retain any dignity if you are still in the club when the lights come on, all sweaty, makeup running, and shirtless. Like true social veterans, we would immediately react when our cell phone alarms went off (set to 1:25 am), warning us we had a 5 minutes to escape through the front, before we were harshly unveiled by the fluorescent lights.
After everyone had left, I walked around saying goodbye (carefully stepping Around broken glass, empty coke baggies and torn clothing) to all the bartenders, security, and Erik (the club manager), giving ample amount of time for the police officers out front to break up the fights between the lesbians, and for the gays to drunkenly drive to Denver Diner. Jimmy pulled the car around, and I hopped down the steps and into the back of his car, hungrily awaiting biscuits and gravy.
As we drove away, I looked back to see a pack of boys grunting slobbering, and howling, in the parking lot next to the club. Maybe DJ Markie was right. As we sped away, my phone vibrated. John, a very cute boy that bought me a drink earlier that night, sent me a text wondering where I was, and what I was doing now that the club was closed. I thought about it for a minute, trying to decide whether or not to invite him along with us. After a few minutes, it was decided. It wouldn’t hurt to take this cute pup out for a run around the block… just as long as I remembered that that was all it was: a run around the block with a cute dog.
Matty B .