Missing You

I miss you.  I want to text you so bad.  I want to talk to you.  I can't tell you again how much you mean to me.  You know.  I guess that's why you pushed me way so stupidly and so brutally.  You have to know that I get it, that you did what you did because for some reason you felt you had to.   I just wish you had gone the honest route instead of the cowardly one.  I hope it didn't feel good to hurt me so badly.  If it did, don't ever tell me so because that takes it to a whole new level of pain.

People in the know are glad, glad you have taken yourself out of my life.  But I never listened to anyone before and I'm not going to start now and I'm not glad.  I don't feel relieved.  I don't feel a weight lifted because you're gone.  I just feel sad, and empty and that something is missing.  You.  You're missing.  And I hate it.

How could you turn your back on me so easily?   Friends since 1987.  That is a long time.  Was it easy?  In retrospect if all feels so forced, planned.  That night, you were looking for anything to fight about.  What you settled on and what ultimately ended our friendship and whatever else we had is not something that would end a 27 year friendship.  And when I think about it, sometimes I'm crushed, other times I'm just angry.  So so angry that you turned your back on me.

It's been a month.  It's taken me this long to put these feelings on paper.  It's taken me this long trying to make sense of a senseless situation to realize there never will be any sense to it.  It took me 2 minutes after our fight to realize it was purposeful.  At the time, I was so shocked and going on instinct to fight you back, to try and hurt you back.  And I hate that I stooped to that level.  I hate that I said some of the things I said.  I was so upset, so crushed.  So decimated by you, again.  I console myself with that old saying.... you always hurt the ones you love.

No matter how many times I tell myself that I'm better off, my heart won't listen.  My heart wants you in my life.  My heart wants your friendship back.  You weren't always a good friend but at times you were the best friend.   At times you would say something to me that was so insightful, so right into my soul, that I thought there could be no one on this earth who knows me the way you do.  How you did that always blew my mind.  And no matter how many times you told me you're a dick, I didn't fully believe it until that night.  It was like an image you tried to keep going, but it never fooled me.  I saw that side of you that you don't show too many people.  And I still believe that, but I also will know that despite that other side, you're truly a dick too.  And that's ok.  A lot of times I feel like a total asshole.  But you saw the other side.  

You brought things out of me that I didn't know were there.  You were encouraging and supportive of me when I needed it most.  You made me love you again, not that I ever stopped.  And then you tore it away, again.  I didn't think I could ever live through the pain of losing you a second time.  But I guess I have.  But it's a pain that lingers.

Life is short.... I hope it doesn't take too long for you to find your way back, again.

Continuing to Comtemplate

There were so many things that were said the night I met my friend R for drinks.  And so many things I keep thinking about.  So many questions that he asked me that I am now asking myself.  He knows of my unhappiness and my desire to change my life.  But knowing that leads to more questions.   Questions like, are you prepared to be alone for the rest of your life?  And I wonder, am I?  Because that's a possibility I have to face.

On a daily basis I feel bad for feeling how I do.  For wanting this big change knowing it's going to hurt someone who doesn't deserve to be hurt.  That nagging guilt for wanting more punishes me.  I wonder if I can ever truly move on when I feel this way.  Questions lead to more questions and none of them have answers.  Will I punish myself forever for being dissatisfied?  Is it better to live a life you are unhappy in than to hurt someone else?  Do I need to sacrifice forever for the happiness of someone else?   Is it selfish that I want to make myself happy?

A strange thing happened this weekend.  We were at our accountants office to hand in our tax information.  As we talked to him about what's been happening in our lives this past year I started to feel incredibly trapped.  We were talking about my job search and how I've been unable to find a job for so long.  He was encouraging and sweet, as he always is.   And the more he talked the more trapped I started to feel until I really thought I was just going to burst into tears right in his office.   I felt it coming on.  My eyes started to water.  I felt my face flush.  I kept taking deep breaths to keep the tears at bay.  It was really difficult.  I kept wiping my eyes over and over and over.   I don't know if anyone else in the room saw that this was happening, but bursting into tears in my accountants office is not something I wanted to happen.

Trapped.  It's how I felt in that moment and it's how I've felt for far too many years now.  Trapped is not a good feeling.  Nowhere to go.  Nowhere to turn.  No help to be had.  No means to make my life better.  Trapped sucks.  Trapped hurts.

But don't get me wrong, this isn't constant.  I still experience good things.  I still have wonderful friends who are there for me in the best ways they can be.  I still have family who are as supportive as anyone can hope for.  I still have fun and I still laugh.  And the one I don't want to hurt loves me with all his heart and would do anything for me.  But wait, there is it is again… the guilt.  Because he would do anything for me and it's not enough.  That guilt.  That self doubt.  Those moments when I hate myself for feeling how I feel.  They creep back in.

I hate that I have no answers.  I hate that years go by without answers.  And I have to keep asking myself, is being content and complacent the best I can hope for and should I just suck it up and make the best of it?

Can I Have a Peek?

Several many years ago some friends and I were trying to figure out what we wanted to do on a bored Friday night.  No shows to go to, no parties, no good movies playing.... just nothing happening.  I don't remember which one of us, me, R, BFF or Butthole got the idea to go to Niagra Falls, but we were all in.  So we packed up a few things got in a car and went.  Those were the days when you could just go to Niagra Falls, you didn't need a passport, just your birth certificate, maybe.  No one ever seemed to check.  It kind of blows that you can't do that anymore.

I think this is the only Falls pic taken that weekend

My memory of the trip itself is kind of hazy.   I know the four of us shared a room at the lovely Marco Polo Inn.  I think we stayed Friday and Saturday night and went home Sunday.  And I know we had the best of times.  R and I were doing that interested in each other dance, BFF and Butthole were officially a couple at the time.  Two beds, two couples... do the math.  Nothing major is going to happen though, not with another couple in the room.  But R was a bit frisky and said something to me while we were cuddled in bed that unfortunately and hilariously for all, Butthole overheard.  "Can I have a peek?"

Butthole didn't get that nickname by accident.  He heard what R said and he ran with it!  It was the running joke of the whole weekend and I'm sure beyond.  It's hard to say when he actually gave up the joke.  If ever.  It didn't matter though.  It was fucking funny.

R and me at Niagra Falls - 1987

We did the touristy stuff... wax museums, Falls, etc.  Drank I'm sure.  Because truly, when weren't we drinking?  And just having tons of laughs.  I've only been back once.  BFF has been back countless times with her family.   Butthole... RIP, I don't know, nor do I know if R ever went again.  But the memory, or what I have of it anyway, of that weekend definitely lives on.

Stepping Back in Time

There's been an interesting phenomenon going on lately.  Several of the local punk bands from the 80's, my heyday, have been reuniting and playing gigs.  I haven't been able to attend all but I have attended several.  Last week one of them played at an old haunt, the Phantasy Night Club.  It's been many many years since I've been to the Phantasy, like double digit many years.  But the minute I stepped through the door I felt like I was walking back in time.

After walking in, to the left is the door that once was a vintage clothing store.  Directly in front of you, an old mural of The Beatles.  And then, the staircase.  The stairs that lead up the club.  How did I make it up and down those stairs on so many nights of drunken debauchery without falling down them?  I can't even fathom how I did it.  Then through the entrance and the first thing you see is the giant pirate ship in the middle of the club.  Seriously, a giant pirate ship.  It had a table and booth seats in it, enough to fit about 6 people, maybe.  Many nights were spent sitting in the boat, talking and laughing with my friends.  There's even audio proof of our silliness, but that is just too embarrassing to say anything more about!

To the left of the entrance are the restrooms and straight ahead is the bar and small bar area.  And to the right of that are some tables and chairs.  There's also a dance floor and another area of seating across from the first one and a stage, of course.  It all looked and felt exactly the same.  Eerily the same.  I was even with the friends I hung out there with, R and M, remembering old times and the great, and not so great bands we saw there.  I saw some faves... Redd Kross, Sonic Youth, and so many others, both in the Club and in the Theatre next door.  New Year's Eve's were spent there.  Friends bands played there.  I even have been on that stage myself, singing backup vocals for our friends band.  It's also the place where I infamously passed out from being so drunk that R took a Sharpie pen and drew big peace signs on my cheeks with Peace and Love written under each.

I have been loving the walk down memory lane.  I've felt more like myself since these shows and these reconnects with old friends than I have in years.  It's not that I want to go back in time.  We were crazy kids and had the best of times.  But being in the present is good too.  We're all older and wiser and I feel like having these guys back in my life now is how it should be.  Being out of touch with old friends for a long time, the immediate thought is, "we wasted so much time" but we didn't.  We moved on, made lives for ourselves and eventually realized the people we knew then, they're important.

This Saturday is another night out.  It's not an old band reunion but it is old friends who were in bands back then who have formed a new band.  I can't wait to see who I will run into and I can't wait to see the ones I already know will be there.

Yeah, they suck.  But it was still fun!

How Did We Get Here?

I've come to the end of my several weeks of angst.  This particular several weeks of angst, I should clarify.  I'm sure I'll have more in the future.   But this particular dilemma, trauma, whatever you want to call it, is now over.  It's hard to look at the time I spent on someone as a waste.  I do not think of it as a waste.  I think that people come into our lives at certain times to fill a need, or you fill a need for them.  And I think we absolutely did that for each other.  I'm not sure I can say the friendship is over, because I'm not sure it ever will be completely over.  But I do see it with much more clarity now, meaning I have accepted that I'll never really know what happened and have decided to move the fuck on.

I've been reflecting on a lot of things lately, writing in my Bite Me book.  What can I say, I get introspective from time to time (to time).  What I have been thinking about is how certain people come into your life and how others come back into your life after long periods of absence.  My pain filled tirades of late have given way to something completely different and unexpected.  A few days ago, I felt the closure I needed from that situation, the most closure I'll get anyway and I am as over it as I will ever be.  And that same night the man and I went out with R, an old beau of mine, to see an old friend of ours band.  And as that night went on, I realized I was out with two guys I have known over 25 years, watching another friend I've known even longer.  And it put so much in perspective.

At one point, R said to me, "isn't it cool that all these years later we can still hang out together?"  And the answer is, it's amazing.  R and I have been in touch, here and there for about 10 years or so, but before that we hadn't been in touch for over 10 years.  And now it's quite possible that we will remain in touch again.  We had a great time and are looking forward to hanging out some more.  It was the first time we have gone out together in probably about 23 or so years.  We did run into each other about 9 months ago but it wasn't a planned get together.  This was planned and it was nice, fun, oh fuck who am I kidding... it totally fucking rocked!

I got to wondering what brings people back into your life after a long absence?  And I think the answer is that everyone is looking for something familiar.  R and I did not have a falling out at all, we just drifted.  It happens.  And so introspection begets introspection and wonder begets wonder.  When I reconnected with TM, who incidentally is the friend who's band we went to see.  TM and I talked about everything and how much we had thought about each other or told others stories about things we had done together.  So I knew that TM had been thinking about me over the years the way I had been thinking about him.  With R, who knows.  I'm not sure it matters, but I'll guess yes, he has thought of me over the years.  Fondly I might add.  If not, why even bother starting a friendship again?  I have certainly thought about him, and have written about him here several times.  He is someone I have always cared about.  Not taking away anything from the friends I have made since then, the friends you make when you are at the pinnacle of your life are always the best ones aren't they?  What I mean is, in those formative years, the people who are around you at those times are the ones you tend to gravitate back to.  Because they are familiar.  Because they were with you when.  Because they know you inside and out and they get it, they get who you are.  Because you know, without a shred of doubt they care about you and always will.  It's like what Richard Dreyfuss as adult Gordie said in the movie Stand by Me... "I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?"  For me, I've never had any friends like the ones I had when I was in my early 20's.

I have some amazing friends in my life now.  Of course I do, L, and L, and R, and A, and my PBAU peeps and the gardeners and my SLUTS (don't ask).  And I love them, they've been there for me when I needed them and I hope I have done the same in return.   And now, even if another 20 years goes by and I never speak to R, TM, or M I know without any uncertainty that I matter to them.  I know it about others too. And knowing that means everything.  And now I have it, for all eternity in print.  And when I feel like I am unworthy of someone, or have a situation like what happened recently happen again (which I hope it never does!), I can come here and see how much I really do have and how blessed I am.

The Other Woman

R and I ended our romance, if that's what it can be called, July in that magical year, 1987.  The way I remember it was, on 4th of July the whole lot of us were at the fireworks at Edgewater Park in Cleveland.  He disappeared and was found later with the other woman, A.  That was the devastating end.   I was beyond shattered.  I was so in love with him.  He had that bad boy thing going for him and he was super hot.  Chicks always dig the bad boy, especially when they're young and stupid.  And possibly when they're old and stupid too.  Anyway, it wasn't long after that we talked and I asked him if he would still be my date for my brother B's wedding, which was July 18.  He promised me he would and gave me the "I still want to be friends" speech.  And he did, still want to be friends that is.   We still hung out together and went places together.  The big difference was, at the end of the night we didn't spend an hour in my driveway making out.  He just dropped me off and left.  It sucked!

July 18 arrived.  B's wedding (his first of three, but that's a different story).  It was a pretty big fancy affair at the place to have a wedding in the Cleveland area.   At least one of them anyway.  It was elegant and classy and my mohawked dude was supposed to meet me there.  Being in the wedding party, I had agreed to clean up for the occasion and dyed my hair black, solid, all one color.  The one and only time I ever agreed to such a thing.   Anyway, the reception got underway and my brothers friend D, who was also in the wedding party but not my partner, kept coming around by me.  I wasn't really noticing at the time it was happening because my eyes never left the door to see if/when R would walk in.   As the night went on and I got more and more drunk, it became very clear that he wasn't going to show up.  I went out into the lobby to call him at a payphone and he wasn't home.  It was official, I had been stood up.  And I was devastated all over again by him, cried and drank some more.

D swooped in.   He didn't leave my side all night.  He was sweet and understanding and in retrospect, had an agenda.  But I was drunk.  I was young.  And I was stupid.  D was someone I knew and trusted.  His sister was one of my best friends.  His parents and my parents are best of friends.  We were lifelong friends.  I'd known him for as long as I have had memory.  Having him there to lean on helped, a lot.  It was such a long night.   After the wedding, we went to a bar at a nearby Holiday Inn and partied some more.  And then after that, we headed back to my parents house and partied some more.  And that's when things between D and I shifted from concerned friend to something entirely different.

Back on my home turf and still in my hideous cream colored bridesmaid dress... seriously the thing was a monstrosity of tulle and embroidery... my drunkenness went from happy partying to sad and angry and I ran outside to cry and "woe is me" myself to death.   But, there was D.  He followed me outside and comforted me.  He told me all the right things.... "the guy is a jerk,"  "how could he walk out on you?  Look at how gorgeous you are!"  "he doesn't deserve you"  He hugged me and held me close while I cried and before I knew it we were making out leaning against a car in my driveway.  He took my hand and lead me to the backyard.  And then we were on the lawn and he was doing things to me that up until then no one had done to me!  He was making me forget being dumped, at least for that night.  And before I knew it we were fucking on my parents back lawn, with that hideous dress bunched up around my waist.  And it was great.  It was exactly what I needed.  People went in and out of the house, and I have no idea if anyone saw us or heard us.  I'm not exactly quiet when I'm having sex and that fucking ugly cream colored dress wasn't exactly camouflage!

And all the while, I knew... I knew D was involved with someone and had been for a long time.  I knew it and I didn't care.  Some other woman stole my man so it was only fair.  At least in my drunk addled brain it was.  So there it was, I was the other woman.  And he knew he would have me that night.  It's the only reason he didn't bring his girlfriend to the wedding.  While he was consoling me, he was probably thanking R for standing me up.  Ahh the best laid plans, literally!

That Big Ass LTD

It was the spring of 1987.  Things were good.  I was happily dating R who I was crazy about.  I was regularly hanging out with friends, going to shows, getting hammered and basically creating chaos and mayhem whenever possible.  One night me, R and our friend M, owner of that big ass LTD, decided to head over to Kent to catch a band.  JB's Down was a regular haunt of ours.  JB's Down, the place of legend and warm Rolling Rock or Stroh's.  I regularly smuggled in my own alcohol because the choices left much to be desired.  They either never caught on or didn't care.  It had maybe 10 tables that were all off kilter and assorted chairs and then what looked like church pews in the back.  The bathrooms were the most disgusting ever.  But they had a big stage and it was in Kent, a college town, so bands played there regularly.  

On this particular night, we got to JB's and met up with Butthole (the aforementioned Butthole that used to regularly stay at my apartment) and J.  J, M and Butthole were having a hell of time pounding beers that night and R and I... well, we were feeling frisky so we headed outside to M's car.  The beauty of a big ass car is that big ass back seat.  After we got in and were fooling around a little, I suddenly felt something uncomfortable on my back.  Reaching under myself, I pulled a billy club out from under me.  Things are about to get interesting!   At the time M was working part time as a security officer.  We couldn't help but wonder what else was lurking around this giant car.  So we started looking and what did we find under the seat?  Handcuffs.  Game on!  R wasted no time and handcuffed me to the door handle before I knew what was going on.  To say that being handcuffed and at his mercy was fucking fantastic would be an understatement.  But alas, neither of us had come prepared for some down and dirty fleshy fun time so while fun was being had by all, we did have to hold back some.  That is until R had the brilliant idea to look in M's glove compartment.  I have to hand it to M, that boy was prepared!  Inside that glove compartment was a whole box of condoms.  Oh yes.  Did I say we had to hold back?   Well not for long!   That was probably one of the best times I ever had in a car in my life.  And luckily, we also found the keys to the cuffs.

After awhile, with two big shit eating grins on our faces, we wobbled back towards JB's to see how M was doing.   What we were met with was Butthole and J carrying M out of the bar.  M was thoroughly hammered and couldn't even walk.   He very recently filled me in on a little exchange that happened between him and J at this point.   J:  "So sorry M.  So sorry I drank you under the table."  M:  "Fuck you J, just get me to my car."  

R and I took M from there and got him back to the car where he immediately passed out in the back seat, the same back seat that was so recently used for a much more interesting purpose.  Turns out M didn't know about that until very recently.  Thanks M, thanks for letting me fuck in your car and play with your toys.  That car will forever hold a special place in the cockles of my heart.

So, R took the wheel and I kept an eye on M to make sure he was OK.  That is until he hurled all over the back seat of his car.  Not good.  And he hurled all over his rent a cop uniform!  Making a 45 minute drive with hurl in the car and a moaning and groaning friend is not fun.  Not fun at all.  But what choice did we have?  We got M home and in his parents house and because we were such great friends, we left the car as is so he could clean up the hurl the next day.  It's a lesson everyone needs to learn at least once, right M?