The Beginning of the End

So, things with the Actor were not going so well.

I don't remember the specific details but one day we were having a rather heated discussion about something. He kept asking me questions that were pointed, loaded and leading. I wouldn't play his game and I kept answering his questions with questions of my own. Finally he said, "JV. It's a rule of improv that you don't answer a question with a question." I had to pause to collect myself and wipe the look of disbelief off of my face. "This isn't improv," I finally answered. But for him, it was. He was always "performing", always looking to be the protagonist and antagonist, always looking to be the center of attention.

In retrospect, I realize that this was an abusive relationship. Obviously, not physically but emotionally. And I let it happen. I fought it from time-to-time but it carried on for many months. And, what kept me there wasn't the fact that I thought I needed to be with someone but rather that belief, the hope, that Actor would one day change. But what instigates change? Obviously, I couldn't do it. But I wasn't at a place where I could define what was happening between us. I did know that I wasn't happy and I was beginning to think that maybe I did deserve better...

So I did what any good gay man does, I drank. I dragged myself out to the local gay bar, Metropolitan.

I hadn't been out in a while. I had distanced myself from my friends, as one does when they know they're doing something not exactly right for them but don't want to her about it from the people who matter. So I called a new-ish friend, The Perpetually Recovering Addict. The PRA was an older guy, approaching 50s, who I had met at the bar and become friendly with. He made me laugh and he was smart and interesting. We discussed theatre, books and movies. We cruised guys. We got along well. HE lived around the corner from Metropolitan. When I first met him, the PRA was a DRINKER. He would be at the bar when I got there around 6:30pm or so and still hanging on, drinking, when I stumbled out at 2am or so. And he'd be there the next night too.

Metropolitan is a gay bar that needs to be experience to really understand it. As soon as you open the creaking door, you're hit with the smell of booze, bleach and dirty boys. In the days of smoking in bars, you couldn't really smell the bleach or the boys. The bar is extends along the left hand side and red lights glow, Hell-like, from above. To the right is a game machine, a pool table, two seating areas and two fire places. Then there's the stink bathrooms, a room no one ever uses and then the back yard which is crowded to the point of overflowing during the summer Sunday BBQs. It's gross and dirty and I love it. I've made a lot of friends there, surprisingly.

So the PRA and I meet there and I order a jack and coke while Perpetually Recovering orders an orange juice, cranberry and seltzer. We spend some time catching up and I'm happy to have a conversation with a man that does not involve assaults, or veiled threats or withholding or forced improvisations. I order another jack and coke.

The place starts to fill up and I'm glad we've secured ourselves a comfortable spot at the bars. The bartenders who know me by name are being generous with their pours and joining our conversation from time-to-time. I'd forgotten what it was like not to be constantly on my guard. I'd forgotten what it was like to just have fun. I was happy to not talk about the Actor and our non-relationship. When my phone vibrated and his name appeared on the screen I hit the button that put him directly into voicemail. Suddenly I turned around and was face-to-face with a really handsome man who was talking to the PRA.

We smiled at each other and kept making eyes but PRA did not introduce us. I ordered another jack and coke.

PRA and I talked a little more. I didn't press for an introduction. Handsome man was sitting with his back to the fireplace so I could through glances and smiles his way every now and again. Why didn't he come back over and talk to both of us? The ball was in his court here since he knew PRA. But, no. Nothing. PRA decided it was time to leave.

I decided to give Handsome Man a bit more time so I kissed PRA goodbye and ordered another jack and coke. It was right about here that I realized how drunk I was. People around me were moving in a blur. The drink didn't taste like anything really. I couldn't feel my legs. And I wasn't thinking too clearly. Perhaps this wasn't the best time to talk to Handsome Man. I quickly finished the drink. Because I paid for it. And stole a few more furtive glances at Handsome Man. Smiles exchanged. Still handsome.

I slowly stood up from my perch and began putting on the necessary layers of clothing for the long December night walk home. I turned around and Handsome Man was gone. Fuck. Hiccup. Shit. For the best. I was drunkity drunk drunk. I walked toward the front door, zipping my jacket and looked up and there he was, sitting on a stool, by himself, by the pool table. His face had red light from the bar shining on one side of his face and white light from the pool table on the other. I caught my breath and he said "Hey," in a deep, rich baritone.

"Hi. How are you?" I mumbled but I didn't stop walking. I was so drunk that all I could think about was moving and I had to move quickly or I would fall. I pushed myself out the door and a blast of cold air smacked me in the face and, briefly, brought me back to reality.

What the fuck was I doing? He talked to me. Go back and talk to him. I can't go back now. I already left. It would look stupid. It would not look stupid. You've been making eyes at him for an hour just do it. I've had way too much to drink, I wouldn't be able to say anything coherent or interesting. He was really cute. Go home. You can get his email or phone number from PRA tomorrow. Good idea! Now, cookies.

Notice that not once in this exchange with myself did I take into account the Actor or his feelings. As far as I was concerned, it was already over with him. I had moved on. It only took five jack and cokes and eyes from a stranger to clarify.

I stumbled home with a quick stop at the deli to buy cookies and immediately emailed PRA asking PRA for his friend's contact.

PRA being an addict was, of course, awake. He immediately emailed me back to say that he wasn't comfortable giving Handsome Man's information to me but he would email Handsome Man my info.

Fine. That was better than nothing.

My phone started vibrating. It was 2:30am. It was the Actor. Straight to voicemail.