Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Sleepless in New York

Insomnia returns, much to my dismay, especially now that I have since "kicked the habit" of downing 1+mg of Xanax a night combined with four glasses of Merlot. It's been months since I've refilled my prescription. This is impressive considering I spent the past four years relying on it for its soporific and relaxing effects. The four glasses of wine a night habit? Also gone. I'm not saying I don't drink at all; regular readers of this blog know I am quite fond of drinking, though last night, while out with someone, I could only manage 2.5 cocktails at dinner before declaring, "I'm tired. I'm full. I want to go to bed." I thought perhaps that small amount of vodka would help me to sleep last night but no, I stayed up late, exchanging messages with a previous subject of this blog, who tried his best to convince me to visit him at the hotel he's staying at in Chelsea. My reply was, "I'd have done this if you'd asked two hours earlier but now I've got some other guy's semen on my breath and I think it'd be most rude to show up in such a state."

"Ha," he responded, "I'd dig it. Come on over."

I didn't.

I've been preoccupied as of late, as you are probably aware. A recent strange development in my life is that I forwarded a link of this blog to the man I wrote about a few weeks ago, the married one I had an affair with when I was younger. He answered effusively, writing a rather lengthy message detailing our coupling. And I'd thought he wouldn't even remember me!

Here is an excerpt of my rejoinder to him:

i'm not sure how to reply to your opus of a message; it did thrill and delight me to realize that you have always held me most fondly in your thoughts. in retrospect, i suppose i assumed i was merely just another fuck for you on the road; i know how guys in bands are, having dated many of them in the past. while in college, after that tour, i wrote a short story about that experience, with you as the crux. i wish i could locate it now. i know that many years have passed since that time, but for some reason, it remains so poignant. i did not know it would affect me so deeply. i did not know you would affect me so deeply. and yet here we are, [so many years] later, still reminiscing fondly about those stolen six weeks, the beauty of our attraction, the clandestine affair. i recall the jealousy that seethed through me when you left the tour for two days with some random girl; how did you not know how upset i was? (do you even remember this?)

it's strange, despite all the drugs and people i've fucked since you, that i can remember so vividly our time together. i suppose that means something, right? that tour experience. one of those nights, in a random rural motel, i recall taking a solitary swim in the outdoor pool and masturbating while a man watched from his balcony. i'm an exhibitionist, a submissive, a whore - surely you know this about me. you must have had some suspicions about me then - my overwhelming need to please and submit.

I was, and am still, very moved by him. There is more, but I won't post the rest of our exchange because as you can surmise, he is, and always be, very special to me.

On a different tangent, I have been communicating with someone for months via Craigslist, a man looking for some kind of solace from the mundane experience of his marriage. Despite numerous near-encounters, we never met, something he often berated me for, as I was the one who always flaked. He even repeatedly told me to "never speak to [him]" again, only to beg my forgiveness a day later, and ask to see me. "I just need you so bad," he'd write. I decided that yesterday we would finally meet, and promised that I'd take a brief trip up to see him at work during my lunch break. I put a special effort into looking particularly pretty, wanting to impress and charm him, shaving all the necessary body parts that might get penetrated or touched.

You can imagine what happened.

There are two kinds of married men looking to cheat: those who will do it and with much gusto, and those who idealize the fantasy and ultimately, are terrified of following through. He falls into the latter category.

I shouldn't have been surprised or disappointed; it is now, looking back, that I realize all of his rants were actually just an act, his way of presenting a front of false indignation. I'm done with that.

And now here we are, Wednesday morning, and I have so many professional obligations this afternoon that I am overwhelmed, mostly because I can barely remain conscious and coherent. I'll need an intravenous drip of caffeine to get me through the day. Then, perhaps a drink with a lucky reader of this blog to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, though neither of us want to have Mexican food or margaritas. Tequila gives me indigestion and a rancor that is most unbecoming.