Saturday, February 21, 2004

Polish Squirrels and Lubed Up Roofies

Last night was really fucked up. Of all nights to have NOT brought my camera, for two reasons. I don't know where to start....this is a long post so take your time....

First of all, I'm tired of my squirrel metaphor. I've over used it. I love it because it is so fitting to my situations and how I feel , but I think I over did it. Just as when I was growing up I used "like" with everything thing I said. "Like, ya!" "Like holy shit!" "So what are you, like, gonna do tonight?"

I was going to stop referring to my squirrels. You know, let them rest a while. Seriously! But last night changed all that.

TorontoBoi, T , D and I went to Lube. 10:30 and there was fucking line up. Some euro trash birthday party going on the place and it was full of buglies. Whatever, we were going to have a good night so we waited in line for 20 minutes. In the rain.

Once inside we were joined by P and later on in the evening S (who tells me he has a sick addiction to my blog - Hi sexy...I know you are reading ;). TorontoBoi (TB) and I were chatty Kathy's' early on in the evening, not a care in the world. We were both drinking Crantini's with Chambourd, often putting them down carefree to talk to various people and smoke cigarettes. TB and I each got picked up and cruised quite a bit which was nice and made for a comical evening, but the fun did not start until he walked in.

Yup. Follow that link above before you read on and you'll know why there was the MOTHER OF ALL SQUIRRELS in the bar last night. Lord...

Matthew was my first kiss, my first everything. (letting out a sigh as I think about the first time I got a rim job....). Who forgets their first (when it was good)? There is a connection there. I was his first as well. Sure he had fooled around a bit before me with the other boys, but I was his first "relationship". It did not end on bad terms or anything, although through the mist of my mind I do recall a bit of drama but hey, I was 19.

He Not GREAT, not bad or bugly, but just OK I guess. His hair was longer. He has not aged well. Most likely because of his lifestyle. Some people grow into their looks and some people grow out of them. Maybe he is the latter. In any case We talked for quite a bit. He's not doing porn any more, at least for the last 4 years. There is some serious family drama..blah blah blah...yadda..yadda..yadda. He went to hairdresser school, graduated, and is now a hairdresser........


Gawd bless. He just moved back from LA. I knew that we would cross paths again. It's destined. I've said that may times before.

I also know that if he asked me, I would. Take that any way you want. I would think twice, but deep, deep, down inside my gut, I think I would. Whatever that means.

He was watching me all night. I was watching him all night. He was ALWAYS positioned as such that he would have a good view of me. Often averting his eyes when I turned his direction. I would do the same. I'm sure we both did not want each other to think that we are still interested, or care..or are concerned. This was a game we played for about an hour and 1/2. Every time we passed one another we would smile and touch one another, on the waist, the arm..the usual place you touch when you want to tell someone you are interested. I feel like my heart is broken, or perhaps chipped, just a teeny weenie bit by seeing him. Is that strange. No one draws up these deep feelings like he does.

It's been 14 years. I'd often bump into him in clubs in Vancouver, Los Angles, Paris, London back in 95 and 96. He was a club kid(ish) and we both have the exact same tastes for places to hang so it's no surprise. He was jetting around as much as me, but for him it was business. I did not ask because that would show that I cared. I knew down inside that he was probably a hooker now or something. I just had no idea he was dong porn all these years. Not that that is a big deal or fact it's fucking sexy. But strange when you spent so much time with someone and always hopped they'd have lived up to something...dare I say more? He's troubled, and I think always will be. No education, no family, to true friends. Just acquaintances. Kind of the stereotype for this lifestyle.

I'm glad that he moved on out and is not cutting carpets. If it's true ;)

TorontoBoy was getting drunker and drunker by the SECOND. He had not eaten all day and it was his second martini and even though is drunkenness was strange, we just chalked it up to the fact that he had not eaten. 2 more martinis later (4 an a 2 1/2 hr span) and he decided arbitrarily that it was time to go. Whatever I think I could go to bed now, my head was spinning from seeing Matthew anyways. TB walks right out of Lube and into the church street, a cab narrowly misses him.

Very much out of his nature, even when he's pissed.

Now he's hungry, so off to burger king we go. (whatever - I don't want to hear about the carb value in that...) We scaf back a few patties and off to home we go. TB has a massive hiccup attack in the car. It was hilarious. He was not making sense when he spoke and we were laughing at him. He was laughing with us, amused by his easy drunken state. "Shit lady, it only cost $50 to get this way" he says, "normally I will take me $100. FANTASTIC!"

I drop him off at home.

Today I get a call from him. Apparently after he got home he went to bed extremely tired. Very, very, very tired. He was suddenly awoken by his bowel. He had to go. He NEVER goes until he's had his morning coffee and a cigarette. Like the guard change at's clockwork. Takes a shit and then whomp! 4 huge pukes in a row. Nice.

He cleans up and goes to bed. Sleeps 10 hours straight. Not a stir, no little wake ups.

Today he is all dizzy and he can't remember much of last night.

Except we both recall the face and clothing of the 5'5" European standing behind us when we put our drinks on the counter; and turned out backs. He stared and smiled a both of us. TB and I were having the same drink and were put on the counter at the same time.

He never stopped looking at us and we just racked it up to the fact that he was a cruisie mutha fucker.

We were so wrong.

Through my research today, it seems like TB had "Roofies" put in his drink. Not GHB. Looking back, he shows all the signs and symptoms.

I'm so careful - and I mean CAREFUL when I'm out by myself on a layover partying. It's so afraid of this shit and the state I may be in when by myself. It's dangerous. But, like the invincible teenager that I am at heart, I just never thought it would happen to me, not to one of my friends, in THIS city. Sure I knew it did, but you just read about that, right?

It's scary to think that TB and I were drinking the SAME martini, and put them down side-by-side. It could have been me. Maybe it was meant for me and not TB. Who knows.

You think I have a hard enought time getting permission from my man to go out now...imagine if his wors fear came true - that I was druged. I'm beginning to see his point.

Be careful out there. We did not use common sense and did not watch our drinks and TB is paying for it today.

Thank god it was small dose and that he is ok - no hospital.

Has anyone else had this shit happen to them?

Thursday, February 19, 2004

Fuck Shit

No moisturizer can help me now. The little Spanish lady that did my facial dug so deep to clean the dirty breath of a hundred thousand passengers embedded in my tiny delicate pours that it's caused a bit of soreness. I look fantastic and my face is baby ass smooth right now, but my nose is pealing from the stress of the facial.

I'm with Kurt on this one, I really do hate waiting behind women at the bank machine. I remembered his post as I stood in line today. Why oh lord why do they have to occupy all my time as they dig around in their purses. What do they have in there anyways? Perhaps it was just that her purse was a pillowcase.

Super and I have not chatted about the argument in Cancun. I think it's better that way. I laid my heart our on the beach that night, telling him how I felt about his anger issues. While my tender heart is covered in a bit of rough sand, I do feel that a change may come of it. I do have to give him time. Thanks for your comments the past few days. It helps keep me in line. There are a few of you that I want to chat with and I will try to get in touch with you over the weekend via e-mail.

Bravo and I talked the other day...plans are forming for another Orange alert on NYC next Thrusday....very excited. I'm sure the Department of Homeland Security will be on my tail.

I feel bad for the Redmonky. His backroom website has more hiding spots then Osama. It keeps morphing around the internet because of all the drama.

I have a nice package on it's way thanks to him. Videos of my high flying porn star colleague at the airline. Gawd bless me if my assistant opens it.

Bastersnatch went to Halifax for a series of bootie calls, but is now stuck because of a huge snowdrift in front of the hotel. Big storm. No "room service" for her. I'm going to courier her some snow shoes so he can go find his tricks.

Speaking of Bastersnatch, he looked after the condo while we were gone and he totally spoiled our cat (Zulu). He bought her tons of treats and now the little witch is whining all the time for some pounce shit, which I won't touch because it makes my fingers smell like I've had them up my ass all day.

The wrong side of cute Tim Horton's coffee boy today obviously went out of his way to make sure that he served me. He's crankier then some of my bitter old colleagues at the airline when he serves everyone else, but when it comes to me, he's all smiles. He's actually nice. Perhaps it's because I'm so pleasant nice to him. He's tall with long "lucky legs" (wishbone like) and a cute(ish) baby face. It's hard to tell what his hair is like given that the poor thing has to wear a hair net.

To be gay and wear a hair net. That would make anyone pissy.

Tuesday, February 17, 2004

Scooter Squirrels & So Much For Me Being Mary J. Blige

I am so resort chic right now it sick. Facials, manicures, pedicures and massages made for a fantastic winter vacation. I have a new nose. Fat ugly obnoxious American tourists made for me look even more glamorous on the the beaches. I was the hottest thing at the resort and everyone knew it. Arrogant? Yea - sort of, but if you saw what I saw, then you'd probably agree. I was the only one with a 6 pack, the rest were sporing 8 packs (a 6 pack with 2 rolls).

My tanned skin fits me like a new pair of Prada shoes.

We went down with another couple (straight) and partied quite a bit. No clubbing, just enjoying the resort lifestyle of drinks and food. Petted a few monkeys, felt sorry for the poor Mexicans and their living conditions compaired tot he resorts where they work. There were tons of amusing people there however. Nost notible was Scooter Girl...a bald blob of a lady that zipped around on her electric cart the whole time. She rolled into the ocean a few times. I felt kind of sorry for her...she not only had to deal with being bald, but that she was extremely over weight. Couple of strikes against her but at least she left home and went on vacation. Bravo! I'm sure that if I was in her situation I would have ended my life a long time ago. Driven the scooter right into the ocean and let the stingrays take tiny bites of my the fat hanging off my knees. But I'm superficial and vain. Thank god she did not wear a thong.

There were way to many people wearing banana hammocks that shouldn't.

So in reality, the vacation went off without a hitch...except for the last night.

The 4 of us were embroiled in a conversation about gay equality at an a la carte restaurant. The wine and hors d'oeuvres prior to dinner, along with the 2 bottles of the red stuff that was scarfed back during our meal made us all a little tipsy. My partner however, was drunk.

When he gets drunk he gets very aggressive and passionate about what he is saying. His Italian background coupled with his high blood pressure and fucked up sense that everyone is after him makes for a dangerous person when his switch is turned on. He would not back down on what he was saying. His voice was raising, constantly throwing in the persons name to show them he had the upper hand. This is a tactic of his that get under my skin. I brought it up in therapy in the fall saying the he had this knack of saying one's name in the middle of sentence, with the correct attenuation that just boils my blood. When done correctly, it make the person feel belittled and subordinate.

The casual conversation had now turned into a full argument between our accompanying couple (my partners cousin & wife) and my partner. I was trying desperately to stay neutral. Trying to sway the conversation off the current topic. When I realized that it was out of control I gave my partner the look.

You know the look, that unspoken language that loves have. The look of it's time to go, I'm bored, come rescue me. He recognized my look and then stopped what he was saying and put his hand over my face and said "Don't give me that fucking LOOK; **insert name** "

I have never been so offended by my partners actions in out 12 years. It made me sick. There were squirrels running all over the place.

All 4 of us got up and left. The wait staff had already asked us to calm it down a bit. On the way back to our rooms, walking under the stars along perfect sidewalks through the plush resort property, my partner and his cousin continued the argument. My partner not letting his cousin get a word in. His wife and I waked ahead. I reached for a cigarette stashed in my pocket. (remember my partner does not know I smoke but his cousin does - he'd be feeding me cigarettes ever time my partner was not around, like a street urchin kid with no money) At this point I could have cared less if my partner knew that I was smoking. Fuck him. The wife and I were discussing my partners actions at the dinner table. She was offended. We had all been friends, attending may dinner parties and upscale restaurants around the city for years. If felt like it was coming to an end. She was in tears. I was panicking, I was furious and was unable to sort out my feeling and hatred towards my partner at that time. His cousin come running up to join us. "where is super?" I ask. ""He just waked off, left me alone. Said he was done with us all."

Great. Now I guess I have to find him somewhere on the huge resort. Maybe he will wander into the jungle where the monkeys will bite his fingers off. Maybe he'll just die and my misery will be over. Horrible thoughts but that is what I was thinking. It seemed like that would be my only escape.

The cousin and his wife were sympathizing with what I was about to go through, wondering how I've dealt with this over the years. I have not written about it much because I don't want to paint an ugly picture about the man that I love.

I eventually found him and we went for a walk to work out what just happened. I laid into him. Threw it all out on the table. Told him that I found him repulsive right now and that his actions tonight were embarrassing and childish. I told him he needed help, that everyone is not out to get him. He has to calm down. He's too high strung. I told him that he has hurt me terribly and that I will not accept that type of abuse again. He has to understand that different people had different opinions and that is what makes the world go around.

He said he did not "recognize" the "look" I gave him. That I have may "looks" and that I all too often throw them in his direction. I told him that that was bullshit because when he covered my face with his hand he acknowledged that I was trying to tell him to call it off but that he did not want to accept that.

He now knows that I'm not happy in the relationship....that I was comfortably numb over the last few months since therapy. He threatened me that if I'm not happy I should just leave. Another "woe is me" tactic of his. He has an exasperating way of making me feel terribly guilty all the time. His "it's all my fault" actually means it's mine. It's in his tone. His body language. I apparently don't understand him.

Now I don't know what to do. The event has stirred up may emotions in me and I need to process them all out.....

I NEED a squirrel right now. Maybe I'll find one next week when I hit Manhattan again.

Damn that Toby for putting the pic of Bravo Carson and I on his site. I walked into Starbucks today at College and Yonge to be greeted by the barista boy who has seen it. "I knew it was you!" he exclaimed...."I've been waiting for you to come in all week!"

lord. I have some explaining to do.