Friday, April 8, 2011

another one bites the dust

ah, yes... the fleeting feeling of security has changed course, dumped me back into the wild once more. i think i should've followed through on my dream of becoming an oceanographer/skydiver. perhaps if i rented an igloo in antarctica and studied the mating habits of emperor penguins, i wouldn't have such a turbulent wake of bodies behind me.

i have managed, yet again, to ruin another significant other's life. which also means i will have to stop going to most of the bars in williamsburg and probably some heading out into bushwick. i have decided i will resort to staying home alone, most likely with the curtains closed and netflix on.

how is it possible that i cannot have a relationship for more than a year? sans the three year gig i did with the kid when i lived in atlanta (which technically could be equated to one, considering that i traveled for six months, he didn't talk to me for four months, and we broke up on and off when he wasn't invested in constantly cheating on me), every relationship i have ever been in i have ruined in under a year.

and i tend to always blame it on my career, but this time around i think i'm going to push this issue a little deeper. i'm going to delve into what i will officially name this scientific issue: the whiskey reaction.

it is no secret that i like to drink. i'm a bartender, i love red wine, i love drinking red wine with a shot of whiskey behind it... i just really like the process of alcohol. and i have always stood by the fact that drinking only turns into a problem when you let it; which is to say, when it begins to own you. up until this point, and still not even all that much, it hasn't been a problem with me.

but. whiskey is whiskey, and it's like a long downward tumble. drink it when you're happy, you'll sing yourself to sleep. drink it when you're sad, you'll wake up in the morning with no friends, an empty gas can, and a burning bar.

i've been really happy recently. i've had alot of work, i've been dancing alot, i've been training, i've been creating in the sewing studio... i've been really busy. so busy with things, in fact, that my (now ex-) boyfriend voiced his opinion on the matter; which is to say, instill a little more guilt than i already carry.

wait, guilt? why?

this is my career. this is my dance company, those are my costumes created by my hands, that is my fucking website and those are my pieces of choreography... why am i guilty for finally pulling my ass out of the shithole sewer i moved into coming to new york and actually goddamn doing something with my time? just because i don't want to stay in bed until 3 every fucking day and cuddle doesn't mean that i have to feel guilty about your needs. and this little seed has been growing and growing and growing... i could see it across his face when we talked about schedules and i could hear it in his voice over the phone.

and don't even get me started on the fact that when we did hang out at my house (and not a bar, because ohmahgawd, he drinks alot to, y'all), i would just get poked and pinched and JUST STOP TOUCHING ME, OKAY? FOR FIVE DAMN MINUTES... i've been working all day or costuming and i have my fucking period and you are basically sitting on top of me and poking at me like a child trying to get his mother to pay attention to her...

i'm sitting right next to you, watching iron chef. is it necessary to poke me until i have to tell you to stop?

so yeah, i got a little frustrated with his behavior, although i can't excuse the fact that my absence was the catalyst for his neediness. this is how relationships work with me. after the grace period of the one year mark starts to rear its ugly head, the guy will begin to get really needy, because i stop paying so much attention to them and i put a focus back on my career. then i bottle up all of the anger and the emotions i feel about that and convince myself i'm imagining it and that it will all just go away, and it ferments.

then i just need one event to shake the bottle, and it explodes. this is where the whiskey effect takes place. i drink the whiskey, the event happens, and i let all of the residual liquid come shooting out from the top. i'm not great with emotions, even though i've come a long way, which is actually pretty sad.

so i left the ex's bar on wednesday, after bringing him a piece of pie (and taking 3 whiskey shots, although they were baby shots so it doesn't really count) with the intention of going home. walking home, i passed by a bar i go into occasionally and decided i would like to get another drink. so i did. after smoking a cigarette outside and making a couple new friends (who happened to be guys, this is where the problem starts to thicken) my new friends decided they wanted to buy me a drink. so i did, and i did a cheers with them.

and after i killed the shot, i put down my glass and there he was, staring at me with knives across the bar. "what are you doing, i thought you said you were going home?"

shake shake shake. rumble.

"well i did, but i decided to get another drink. does it matter?"

SHakE rumBLe buZZZZ

"well you said you have to work inthe morning, otherwise you could've waited for me or something..."


i don't really remember what happened afterwards, cause after all, as he so innocently pointed out, i was drunk. but i'm pretty sure there were the phrases "not my keeper" and "don't have to do everything together" put into play.

i'm not saying i was right for the way i reacted. on the contrary, i'm embarrassed that it came to that for me. he didn't know what the fuck was going on, cause i never told him. all he saw was his girlfriend who said she was en route home surrounded by guys buying her drinks. the break-up happened at an inopportune time, and was brought on by the effect of the whiskey i love so dearly.

now listen here, everybody. i'm not saying i'm a fucking angel. i'm not. on any given day at any point in time, i am usually wrong. i have made bad decisions that have affected good people and i try not to make them again. but the one bad decision i have continuously made that i haven't learned from, is evidently thinking i can have a relationship with someone else. i get into it thinking, this one will be different. you won't ruin it. it seems like it can work. and inevitably, i feel like someone has put a collar and a leash around my neck, and i freak the fuck out.

i feel like even though i know my reasons, he will never understand, and i could never explain it properly. i have worked so long on my career that if i get too close to someone else, it is being sabotaged. unfair? yes. childish? yes. but...

that's just me. until i can come to a point where i'm tired of devoting myself to my causes and i'm ready to devote myself to an actual person, well... then i guess i'm going to have to stick to being single. i hate the feeling of bringing other innocent souls down with the corruption of my own, and i'm tired of apologizing and feeling guilty about having an agenda that i instituted so long ago.

it's such a confusing catch-22 for me. how i can be someone with so much to offer, but not wanting to offer anything that gets in the way of my own life. does this make me selfish, or does it just make me an artist? are those things equatable to eachother?

ugh. i need a shower, i need some advil... i need so many things, and the only way i can get them is from me.

“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.” ~buddha

then why do i feel like such an asshole?


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