Growing a Set

Phew. What a weekend. Might as well start at the beginning: Got home Friday night from work, nobody was there. Obviously, my friends had been there, but they were now gone. Everyone apparently chose not to answer their cell phones, no notes, no voicemails, it was as if they had all disappeared, or didn't want to be found. Either way, I couldn't find my friends on a Friday night. That's like the worse thing that could happen to me. So I got mad. Walked into my bedroom, grabbed a suitcase and threw some clothes in. I called my mother to let her know I was going away for the weekend, and if anybody called asking where I was, tell them you don't know. She agreed (reluctantly) and I was on my way. I have some friends in a city about 2 hours away that I hadn't seen for awhile, and they'd been at me for weeks to come down sometime.

It was a lonely drive - dark, rainy, all the CD's I had in the car were depressing, which was good, considering I was depressed. About half way there, I started to feel bad about leaving and telling nobody. Plus, I had had a bad week at work, and I just wanted to be around my friends. Basically, by "friends" I mean Brad. Now, he and I have an agreement, that whenever one of us feels down or in distress, call the other one, anytime, anyplace, and that person will be there for the other. This has been our agreement for a few years, way before all the secret (awesome) sex. But, lo and behold, Brad wasn't home. Cell was disconnected. So I called his house again and left a message. I never leave a message, unless something is wrong. All I said was "Brad, call my cell", so that no doubt raised more suspicion.

Well, I arrived at my friends' apartment at around 8:30. We sat around for awhile, got caught up, and started thinking about what we were going to do: go to the movies, go to a club, etc. Gradually I started to forget all about my dumb-fuck friends back home. My friend Laine hooked me up with some of her boyfriends' clothes to go out with, as I realized what I had thrown in my suitcase really would fly at the club we were going to. Just as we were walking out the door, my cell rang. Display said "Brad - Home" so with a small jump in my stomach, I answered. He was drunk, but not too drunk. He asked where I was, I told him I had gone missing. He kept asking, I kept telling him the same thing, getting a little pissed off that he was probably just calling because I had left a message telling him to. So I told him that. He sounded a little surprised, and then said "I didn't know you even left a message, you never leave a message." Turns out he had called me because he wanted me to. He was calling to see if I would come over to his house. He and his girlfriend have a new policy where she's not allowed to stay there through the week anymore (they have a "rock-solid" relationship, kinda Love/Hate with an extra side of Hate) and he considers Friday night a weeknight, where it's not quite Saturday... So anyways, he wanted some good ole' man love, but I was two hours away, proving a point, on my way to a club, and I wasn't about to get in the car and drive all the way back home just for him (well, I almost did, but I'm trying this new will-power thing, it's called Growing a Set and Standing Up For Yourself which I've never been particularly good at, but it's workin' this time) So I told him I wouldn't be there, because I was in __________, and I didn't know when I'd be back, but when I got back, we needed to have a little discussion. Which, by the way, we haven't had yet, he had to switch shifts at work so when I'm home, he's not, and vice versa.

So after my emotional detachment, I had some fun. we went to the club, I substituted the usual beer for whiskey, which I also never do, but I needed to blow off some steam. Before I knew it, I had drank 10 whiskeys. And I was feelin' pretty goddamn good. Not drunk, just really good, you know? This girl on the dancefloor kept looking at me. She went from glancing, to fixing, to all-out staring, so I stared back. For probably too long, but hey - 10 whiskeys, come on. So I finally walked over to her, asked her to dance. She accepted, and we danced for probably 4 or 5 songs. Now this girl was hot. (Keep in mind, I'm bisexual, just in case some of you are confused) so right when I got the vibe that she might leave with me, and had brushed my lips by her ear to ask, she sort of half-shoved me away. I looked at her, confused, and she had this scared look on her face. Then she says every guy at the meat market loves to hear, "My boyfriend finally found me". I raised one eyebrow, and slowly turned around, expecting some biker dude named Sledgehammer to be standing there. However, my universe was aligned right that night. This drunk Joe-College type comes staggering up, and barely notices that I'm even there. The girl even gave him this look, like "Dude, you're shitfaced to the point where it's gross" and I thought for a second that she was gonna shove him over and come back to me. She probably would've too, but I heard him slur "Your shishter ish out in the car, and I'm not realllllly shure, but I think she shaid somethin' about Alexsh leaving for good thish time..." So, with a look that said nothing more than "Sorry, hun, but I gotta pull frieght", she and her booze-bag were gone. Just as good a time as any for me to head out too, I guess. Luckily, my friends were ready too, so away we went. Not much more to tell about Friday night, smoked a joint, sat around and talked, went to bed.

Saturday morning, around 11:30, we all went out for breakfast. Then someone suggested maybe doing a little Christmas shopping. The malls were friggin insane so we stayed for half an hour, tops. Suddenly I get the idea that I want a tattoo. Long story short, within an hour, I'm sitting in the most reputable tattoo joint in the city, getting the Mustang running-horse inked on my right shoulder/back. 20 minutes, I was in and out! I figured it would take at least an hour, and it didn't hurt that bad at all, either. So that was my burst of spontanaety for the week. I'm proud of myself. Other than that, we went to see Walk The Line (I'm actually a huge Johnny Cash fan) and it was the best movie I have ever seen in my life. As a matter of fact, I'm taking a few friends from home to see it again tonight. (By the way, there's a really good trailer for Brokeback Mountain before the movie starts too - remember to go see it, it's the unlicensed story of me and Brad) So yeah, anyways. Walk The Line. Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon are going to win every frigging Oscar there is. Not in their appliccable categories, I mean ALL of them. Best Spanish Movie, Best Animated Feature, all of them. The movie is that good.

I've probably rambled enough for now. I probably should do some work, too... not that I want to, but my computer at home is busted, and if I lose my job, I won't have a computer at all... *shudders* What a world, what a world...