A first-hand account of the fallout from one drunken summer night in July 2005.

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

I miss my friend...

So, once again it's been a week since my last post... Kinda happy to say that I (somewhat) talked to Brad since I last posted. Sunday night, I was at his house visiting his sister. When he came in from hockey, I was on my way out to go home. He was standing on the doorstep having a cigarette, and I was almost to the car, without saying anything before I realized that I was being a little childish. So I grabbed my cigarettes off my passenger seat and walked back to Brad. We stood there for a few minutes in complete silence. At first it just seemed like neither of us had anything to say, but the longer it went on, you could feel the tension growing. Finally I had enough and said
"You know, it's been almost 3 weeks since we really hung out like we used to before."

"Yeah I know." He said quietly.

"So... what's gonna happen there? I called you I don't know how many times, and you never called back. And what was with the other day when you just stared at me like you didn't even know me?" I asked him.

"I dunno, I was just in a weird mood that day, honestly I didn't even realize it was you until I drove away" He said, somewhat un-convincingly.

"Oh... Well, I hafta go home." I said as I started walking towards the car. "Give me a call sometime this week when you have some time" I said kind of accusingly.

"Yeah I will. I promise." He said, then started walking towards me. He got close enough to me that he could talk in a loud whisper. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't even realize it had been this long. I'll call you this week, I promise. I have to work tomorrow and Tuesday, then Wednesday and Thursday nights. But after that, I'll call you." I can honestly say that his eyes had some sadness in them. He started to lean in to kiss me, then stopped when (we both) realized where we were, even though it was dark. He grabbed my hand for a quick second before he turned and headed back to the house.

I didn't even care if he kissed me or not. I could have cared less that he even grabbed my hand. Sure, I wanted to bend him over the hood of my car and fuck his brains out; his tight fuckin' ass looked WICKED in those jeans, and he'd just played hockey for 2 hours, so I knew damn well what he smelled like, and that alone was driving me mad for the 5 minutes I was standing next to him. But really, when it all came down, I just really missed my best friend. Not my fuck-buddy, not this guy that I think I'm falling in love with, but my best friend. So now it's Wednesday night. Brad's working, along with tomorrow night too. So I guess I'll just have to see what happens after that. Hopefully something good. At this point I'm open to anything.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

In the dark

I know I promised more frequent updates, but my new computer STILL isn't here!! I was expecting it today, but nothing yet. I have 2 days left before I turn 1 year older; something I have become less and less fond of over the past few years. All of my "elders" say I'm being silly; after all, I'm only turning 23, but it just seems like yesterday I was 17, not a care in the world. Now I'm an actual adult. I have responsibilities; bills, commitments, "grown-up" things to do. It's kinda cool I guess, and it's not like I can just stop it all and go back to being a kid. But man, it'd be nice.
I hadn't talked to Brad all week. I called him a few times, never actually talked to him, but left messages with different people for him to call me; voicemails, etc. but still nothing. I picked up his sister last night; we went to the next town over and ran some errands. When I stopped in to pick her up, Brad was just backing out of the driveway. As I pulled in, he gave me this kind of half-wave, like you give to someone you don't really know. That was it. I kinda stopped and looked at him, puzzled, as if to say "Do you not know who I am?" but he just drove away. I picked up my cell and called his; it rang 3 times and then I got a fast busy signal, meaning he had hit cancel on his phone. So when his sister came out and got in the car, I asked her if she knew what his problem was, and she said she had no idea. She asked me if he called me back the night before (as I had left a message with her for him to do so, and she passed it on to Brad) and I said that no, he hadn't. She shrugged her shoulders, and said she had no idea what was going on. So I let it go for the time being, and away we went.
Now Megan (Brad's sister) is 9 months pregnant. Up until a few weeks ago, she was an excellent pregnant woman - cheerful, excited, glowing. But a few weeks ago, she started to grow tired of carrying around what appears to be a large baby. As we drove to town, she said "Oh Jesus, just drop me off at the hospital and I'll get them the yank this goddamn thing out of me" I laughed, because she's been coming out with some pretty humourous stuff lately. The not-funny part was, it's entirely possible that she's going into labour any time now. Not that that would freak me out; I went to paramedic school, and the first thing they taught us was how to deliver a baby. When Melissa (my roommate) had her baby, I was in the delivery room with her; and the sight of blood and all that doesn't bother me one bit.
So we did what we had to do around town, and Megan had some things to pick up for her new apartment, which she plans on moving into a month after having the baby. We have all tried to tell her that a month doesn't give her much time to adjust, and maybe she should wait until the end of summer or something before taking such a big step. She and the father are no longer together, which is good, because he seemed to have something of an anger problem. Megan is the sister that I used to go out with, so of course, this being a small town and all, every guy in town seen with Megan was said to be the father of her baby. This angered the actual father even more, and every guy rumoured to be the baby-daddy, was approached by him, with some potentially violent undertones. He's one of these guys with a Napolean complex - he stands about 5'6", weighs maybe 140 lbs, and has legs on him like a grasshopper. But has he ever got a temper! Whenever he gets pissed off, you just want to pat him on the head and say "Ooh, simmer down, little guy. Have a popsicle." The great part is, he's like that, and Megan is one of these takes-no-shit girls. So when they got in a fight one day, while still living together, he told her to do something, and she said no. He kept asking, and she said no, so as he stood on the balcony overlooking the living room, he threw a stereo at her. It landed about 3 feet away from her, and apparently Megan didn't even blink. She looked up at him and simply said "Well, that was a good waste of $600 wasn't it?" and started packing her bags. He told her she wasn't going anywhere, and apparently she won that arguement because she showed up at her parents' house an hour later in his car, with all her stuff. I believe every word of that story because I know how Megan is: she doesn't intimidate easily; and for God's sake don't piss her off. She's very vengeful.
About a week after she moved back in with her parents, she found out she was pregnant. Her ex kept harassing her, ranging from her moving back in, to him threatening her friends and family. Not once did she give in to him, and besides the occasional threat made to other guy-friends of hers, he's done nothing he said he was going to do. Especially to her father. Now, I'm going to clarify something about Brad & Megan's dad - I may have made it sound like he was a nasty old guy, but he's really not. He's a really nice guy with a good sense of humour, but if you spent one day in their household you would quickly see why the Dad is so stressed out all the time. Between Brad's drinking; Megan moving back in, pregnant at that, and the other two siblings, especially Brad's 26 year old brother, who despite the fact that he has a kickass paying job, still lives at home. The Dad just kinda needs to vent from time to time, and when Brad was stumbling in drunk at all hours of the night, it just so happened that he was the easiest target.
I will also add that now that Brad's quit drinking, he and his father get along a lot better. This brings me back around to my original problem - Brad not talking to me. Last week after his meeting, he said something about him having to eliminate all things that reminded him of being drunk. At the time I thought nothing of it, but now that a week has gone by and we haven't spoken I can't help but think that maybe I am one of the things that reminds him of being drunk. After all, check the facts:
-Anytime we ever hung out, we were drinking. Brad more than anyone else.
-The first time we had sex, it was because we were drunk and had no inhibitions.
-The second, third, fourth, fifth, etc. times we had sex, we were in varying stages of drunkenness.
-Anytime we ever shared deep dark secrets with one another, Brad was usually drunk.
-Whenever we would go on our Friday-night booze-cruises, Brad would get drunk.

(Okay, now I know that some of you are probably thinking that maybe I have a drinking problem also, but I assure you I don't. Plus, when Brad quit drinking, I thought I'd try and quit just for fun, to see if I actually could, and I've also done well. I've had a social drink here and there, but I could always control myself anyways.)

So alas, now I'm scared that maybe I've been tossed out along with all the other things that reminded Brad of drinking. It's been worrying me all week, and today I've decided that I'm tired of thinking about it 24/7. So tonight after work, I know he doesn't have to work either, and I'm cornering him. I think I deserve to know what's going on; why my best friend won't even speak to me anymore, especially after all we've been through. This pit in my stomach is pissing me off.

Thursday, March 16, 2006


Well, I'm gonna start off by saying that I ordered my new computer yesterday for my house, so as soon as that comes, I won't have to use this goddamn computer at work anymore. That means more frequent updates, maybe some pictures (if I can figure out how...) and just a better blog all around.

Second of all, a big "I'm sorry" for not updating sooner. Work hasn't been particularly busy, but I've just felt sooo tired the past week. I know in my last post, Brad had told me not to make plans for Saturday night, which I didn't, but I ended up with a migraine and he had to work overtime at work, so nothing ended up happening over the weekend. My only source of "entertainment" was painting a wall in my house to match another, then getting the bright idea to paint the big wooden door next to this wall, also. Now, in this door is a window. The window is one of those criss-cross patterned windows, where there are like 9 different little squares of glass. I thought, instead of taping up all those little squares of glass, I'd just take the whole frame off so I could paint it seperately (hence, no paint would get on the glass). However, when I jammed the screwdriver between the frame and the door, it put pressure on the glass, and the window exploded all over my kitchen. So there I stood, covered in broken glass, and the phone rings. It's this dumb crotch who called me about a month ago to tell me that I owed my DVD club for a movie (which I had a. never ordered, and b. never received.) She was being very stern with me, saying that "I had to pay for it one way or another before she left for the day, but I could post-date my payment." We had a very heated arguement over why this couldn't wait until Monday so I could dispute this with the club. She told me that I had to pay her before she left for the day. I returned with saying "who the hell gets off work at 11:00 on a Saturday morning, and stop making it sound as if I owe you the money personally." She really didn't like me and I really didn't like her, especially when she refused to let me speak to her supervisor. So anyways, we fought back and forth for a few minutes until I finally realized that I had other things on my plate at the moment, and told "Heather" to call back when she wasn't gonna be such a bitch. She hasn't called back yet. I walked back out to the kitchen, and started sweeping up glass. This is when my migraine began.

The rest of my day was spent on nothing. I left my windowless door and drove around for awhile. I visited my grandmother, who I hadn't seen for awhile because I'd been sick. She was pissed off because winter's not over yet and she's still stuck in the house. I spent a few hours with her, and then took a drive out to the camp. It was so nice out here on Saturday, so I just hung around out there for an hour. It's so funny, when I was younger, like 14 or 15, I used to hate going to the camp. But now, it's kind of become like my Zen garden. Everytime I go out there now, I instantly mellow out. It's so quiet out there, with the brook running in front of the camp, the breeze blowing through the trees, everything is peaceful. I'm an only child, so growing up in my parents' big house, I was used to having my own space, if I wanted quiet, I had it. But now, I live in a smaller house, with 2 other people and their 3 year old son (and yes, I know, it was my idea that they move in, but I obviously didn't give it much thought...) and it's just llike they've taken over my house. They don't discipline their son nearly enough; he pretty much controls their lives, and the worst part is he doesn't know the meaning of the word "no". For example, when he gets up in the morning, he refuses to eat breakfast food. He prefers popsicles or doughnuts or french fries (which he ate this morning, along with some chicken nuggets) which most 3 year olds would ask for. However, most parents would set a bowl of cereal in front of them and say "either you eat this, or you don't eat." Melissa believes that if he misses one meal, that he's going to starve to death, and/or that he's going to hate her for making him eat something that he didn't want. That is really the biggest issue. Melissa won't say no to him because he throws tantrums and won't talk to her for like, an hour. Weren't we all like that when we were kids? After an hour or so, we forgot what we were pissed off about and got over it. No hard feelings. Not to toot my own horn, but my parents disciplined me, and if I wanted things one way, and they wanted them another, it always ended up with mom & dad getting the final word. At the time, it made me mad, but now that I'm an adult, I see that that's how it has to be - you can't let your kids get whatever they want. Stephen (the father) on the other hand, shares the same beliefs that I do - he and I were raised in similar homes (although even though he's 30 years old now, and his mother still calls him every day to make sure he's okay) but he works long hours. He goes to work anytime after 3 a.m., and is lucky to be home by around 6 p.m. so no doubt he's exhausted. I can see his point though, he wants his son do be disciplined, but he doesn't want to get home from working all day and start raging at the little guy. I know he wants to, but then all his son is going to know is his dad being mad at him all the time.

I know that little kids are hyper, and curious about everything. But, I come from a large extended family, of all different age ranges, so there are babies all the time. Quite a few of my friends from high school have started families already, so it's not like I have no other kids to compare him to. No other kid I have ever seen has been as wired as this kid is. He's currently in the process of toilet-training (which he is doing quite well) and yesterday morning, he came running out of his bedroom, saying he had to pee. But when he saw me sitting on the couch, he felt he needed to stop and chat for awhile. It was cute, but I had to cut him off and say "Do you have to pee?" and he goes "yeah" and took off for the bathroom. I heard him do his thing, and then I heard the water running in the sink. I asked what he was doing, and he said brushing his teeth. I wasn't gonna stop the little guy from doing that, plus he already knows how, but after about 10 minutes, I had to go in and see what was taking him so long.

As I walked into the bathroom, all I saw was the waterfall running over the edge of the sink, and the green frog and yellow duck floating around the countertop. The kid was splashing around in the sink, apparently unaware that he was filling my bathroom with water. I yelled "what the hell are you doing???" and he grins and says "playin in the water" so I yanked the plug out of the sink, and the kid actually throws a tantrum because I've ruined his fun. He jumps down off his stool, and proceeds to punch and kick me in the leg. I picked him up under the arms, and carried him into his mother's room. She sat up when I opened the door, and could tell by the look on my face that something wasn't right. I told her what he'd done, and when she looked at him, he said that I was stupid and that he didn't like me. I told him that he was stupid too, and that I didn't like him very much either. That sounds really childish, but believe me, that really pisses him off, and it's actually the only way you can get him to realize what he's done. So we proceeded to clean up the bathroom while he spent some quality time in his bedroom (which, by the way, comes complete with a brand new TV and DVD player that his parents bought him for Christmas!) He's THREE YEARS OLD!!! Not even, his birthday isn't until April. I didn't have a TV in my bedroom until I was like 13 or 14. This kid doesn't even know how to tie his shoes yet and he's got more gadgets than Bill Gates. This, combined with the fact that he lives on french fries and doughnuts, his aunt and I figure he's going to weigh around 190 pounds by the time he's 10 and have some sort of a heart condition.

When it comes to going to bed at night, most kids that age would be put down around what, 8 o'clock or so? This kid doesn't have a set time. Well, they put him to bed around 8, but he's up at least 4 times with excuses ranging from being sick, hungry, not tired, bored, etc etc etc. This is every night. Yes, also a common issue with kids, but he doesn't end up going to sleep until like 11 or later. It's just madness. I dunno, in retrospect it was probably a bad idea that they live with me. The original plan was that Brad move in with me (as a roommate) since he was still living with his parents. But, my roommates and I had an agreement that if either of us got a house, the other could move in, since they lived in a craphole and I lived with my parents. This was something we all came up with like 3 years ago before they even had a kid. So I guess I felt guilty that if I didn't ask them to move in, I'd be dishonouring our agreement. Plus, back then, alcohol was the most important thing on Brad's mind and he felt if he had to pay rent and bills, that he woulnd't have enough left over to get drunk. This was even before he and I started messing around too, so that factor wasn't there. And it's not like I can just tell them that they have to move out, Melissa has been my closest friend since we were babies (ironically, my parents and hers lived together before either had kids) so she's pretty much the first friend I ever had. And Stephen, although I've only been friends with him for 6 years, he's now like a brother to me. And I don't want to make it sound like I hate their kid, because I don't. He's a good kid, underneath everything else, and I've had a hand in raising him.

So I dunno, I guess I just needed to vent. I went through 22 years of having my own space in my parents' house, to having no space in my own house. It's all a part of adjustment, so I'm told. I can't help but wonder if Brad had moved in with me, if anything would have happened between us. Most likely, considering that we're both bisexual, and he claims that he's "had his eye" on me for years. It would be much more convenient if we lived together. We wouldn't have to sneak around so much; Bitch would be there a lot more, but that's okay, I guess. She's not that bad sometimes.

That all being said, I'm now going to copy-and-paste the email I received from Brad last night:


I was gonna call u but I thought u might be busy at work. I'm just sittin here, gettin ready to go play hockey. I'm fuckin tired and don't really wanna play, but I guess they're short players and I missed Saturday's game, so I'm gonna go. I haven't really had a chance to talk to you since last week - that was fuckin awesome. Sorry about Saturday night, they were short there too and I could use the extra money. Someone said you didn't feel good anyways. I called your cell but it must have been off or something, it went rightt o voice mail. I dunno what my schedule is for this weekend yet but I'll let u know. I can't fuckin wait for you to suck my cock. that's all I thought about since last Wednesday. I dunno what you do to me but no one else has ever sucked me as good as u do. I know I've told u that before, but I've been so goddamned horny all day today and thats all I can think about. I'm gonna pay u back for that ride u gave me - it's my turn now bitch ;) I dunno what (his brother) thought when he went upstairs, he gave me a really weird look, and I went up about 20 mins later and it smelled like sex so bad (or good) in my room.. fuck it, I don' care. See if u can find out if anyone is using the camp this weekend. I'm thinkin right now that I prolly have to work Sunday morning, so see about Friday night. I think (Bitch) is goin to her moms for the weekend so that'd be perfect. Anywayz, I better get ready to go. Write me back or gimme a call when u find out what the deal is... Stay hard for me ;)

So that's the deal there. As far as I know, the camp is free Friday night. I haven't talked to him yet to see if he knows his schedule. My luck, he'll end up either having to work Friday night, and/or Bitch will end up not going away. You never know tho, maybe things will just go my way for once... Here's hopin'!

Thursday, March 09, 2006

The drought is over...

Well, apparently Brad couldn't wait for us to come up with a valid excuse to disappear for the night. Last night, he called me about 5 minutes after I left work, asking me if I could come down. I said yes, but I had to go to the bank first. He told me to hurry, and he didn't sound quite right. Sensing that something was wrong, I said "fuck the bank" and headed towards his house. All I could think all the way there was that he'd had another breakdown. But when I got there, he was sitting outside on the front step, smoking. He smiled when I got out of the car, and said "Hey there, sexy." I said hey back, and we went inside. Before I even had my shoes off, he had grabbed me from behind and pulling my shirt off. I asked what he was doing, people were here, and he said that No, everyone was gone. For the evening. I smiled, and upstairs we ran.

When we got to his bedroom, he ripped my shirt up over my head and grabbed my belt. I had taken his shirt off by now, and had his pants undone. He was at full mast when they dropped to the floor, and I wasn't far behind him. He grabbed me by the waist and threw me down on the bed, and straddled me. He had that sexy-as-fuck grin on his face, and he started jerking his cock. He sat his ass down on my now-rock hard cock and started grinding it. He was leaking pre-cum like crazy already, and had this look of pure ecstacy on his face. He glared down at me and through clenched teeth he growled "fuck me."

I reached over to his bed table and grabbed the lube and a rubber. He grabbed the rubber out of my hand and threw it back in the drawer. "Bareback. And I want you to fuckin' ram me." I grinned, and he raised up so I could lube my dick. Since I hadn't fucked him for awhile, I applied lots just to be sure. I don't think it would have mattered, though. Soon, Brad had reached under himself and positioned my cock at his ass, then proceeded to take all 8 inches in one shot. His face tightened up and his body froze, and I remember thinking "yeah, I bet that does hurt, dumbass" but he only stayed still for a few seconds. He started moving up and down, increasingly harder. In no time he was riding me like a wild horse, so hard that I had to hold his hips.

God, that felt so fucking good. It seemed like ages since we last fucked each other. With everything that has happened in the past few weeks, especially the uncertainty that this would ever happen again period. Now here we were, me spread out on his big bed, our clothes thrown practically all over the room, Brad naked and sweaty taking my cock balls deep up his sexy tight little ass. He had started moaning, too. That gets me every time, especially when he keeps looking down at me through half-closed eyes with the drops of sweat dripping off his forehead. It occurred to me that we had never fucked in his room before. I'd been in his room a million times, and it was always hotter than hell in there, which is how I like it when I fuck anyone, as hot as it can be. Sweat fetish or something, I dunno. But he just kept bouncing up and down, harder every time, moaning nothing in particular, just swearing, telling me how big my cock felt up his ass, how he'd missed my cock, missed "us" altogether. He said something about how he loved it when I fucked him missionary style, so without hesitation I pushed him back onto his back, barely missing a beat. I grabbed his calves and put his legs on my shoulders and rammed my cock back into him all the way. He gasped loud, and went "ohhhhhhh yeahhhh". I was holding myself up over him, sweat dripping down onto him. He swung his arms outward so they took out mine, and I fell down onto him, hard enough for me to think that maybe I would crack a rib or something. He grabbed both sides of my head and pushed his tongue down my throat. I kept thrusting hard into him, and now I could feel his cock between us, sliding around from the sweat and pre-cum. I pulled away from his kiss, and started biting on his left ear and his neck. He spread his legs out as far as they would go, and grabbed my back. He ran his nails from the middle outwards, down my sides. He was digging in hard, but I didn't care. I didn't give a shit if he drew blood, as long as I could fuck him forever. I couldn't get enough, I had to keep fucking him harder and harder.

I pulled out of him and I told him to get on his hands and knees. As he moved, he grabbed his cock and started jerking it. I told him not to touch it, that I would take care of that too. When he was ready (not fast enough, in my opinion) I stuffed my cock all the way back in him again. He groaned loudly as I apparently hit some different nerves than I was before. He leaned forward then pushed himself back onto my cock. He was rocking just as hard as I was thrusting. I grabbed him by the back of his shoulders and leaned over him, biting his neck again. He kept hissing "harder, harder" so I raised myself back up and grabbed his hips and plowed him as hard as I could. For some strange reason, whenever I get over being sick, all I want to do for like 2 weeks afterwards is fuck every single thing I can get my hands on. I'm talking like all day, every day. I can jerk off 2, 3 times a day and still need to fuck some sort of a hole. And last night, Brad was really giving me a run for my money. He kept squeezing his ass around my cock as tight as he could, moaning so loud, telling me to fuck him harder and harder, and now, with my hands on his hips literally plowing him into the headboard, it still wasn't hard enough. I reached under him with my right hand and furiously started pumping his neglected hardon, which was dripping more pre-cum than I had ever seen from him before.

There was something so exciting about fucking Brad in his bed. I don't know if it was because we said we could never do this at his house, and even though there was nobody there last night, anyone could have dropped in like people always do there. And it's not like we were quietly humping behind closed doors. His door was wide open, and here we were, 2 sweaty horny guys, faces bright red, tangled up in each other, the blankets soaked in our sweat, me banging his brains out, while we both moaned and groaned and swore.

I honestly don't think I have ever fucked anyone, male or female, harder than I fucked Brad last night. And that's saying a lot. Brad and I have fucked hard before. My ex, bitch that she is/was, really knew what she was doing when it came to riding my cock. She was kinky... Hmm, now that I think about fucking her again, I think I could forgive a lot of the bullshit just to have her again. Or her and Brad at the same time... Now there's an idea...

Okay, I've gotten off topic. So by now, we've been going at it about 45 minutes. I'm just starting to get close, and Brad says that he's getting really close. I love what he does with his ass when he cums, I can't really explain it. It's something that no one else has ever done with me, but I knew if he came right now, that I would too. He started breathing heavier, and I felt his cock harden even more in my hand. Suddenly his ass clenched around my cock, and I felt his cum spurt out of his cock. He made this sound in his throat that sounded so animalistic, and I pulled almost all the way out of him and shoved back in. He did that thing with his ass, and I went off. It felt like a million fireworks going off at once. I had my teeth clenched, but I couldn't hold it back. I just screamed "fuuuuuuuck!!!" and fell onto Brad's back, clawing his shoulders, and he let himself fall flat onto the bed, pulling me down onto him, my cock still in his ass. After what seemed like an hour, my orgasm subsided, and I didn't think I could move. I just laid there, on top of Brad, both of us panting like 2 chain smokers who just ran the Boston Marathon. The rush to the head I had was so great I couldn't even open my eyes. I was kissing Brads neck from behind, him still moaning. My right hand was still underneath him, and his cum was mixing with his sweat and had started to dry. Finally I rolled off of him, and laid beside him so we were looking at each other.

"Jesus, that was wild" Brad said, grinning.
"Unh huhh" was all I could manage for a reply, still breathing heavy.

Brad laughed, and told me to get up so we could go shower before someone showed up. We both jumped in to save time, and got cleaned up quickly just in case someone had come in. Right before he shut the water off, he grabbed my face again and kissed me like he had upstairs.

"Thanks. You have no idea how bad I needed that." He told me
"Oh, I have a pretty good idea" I said with a grin.

We toweled off, and went back upstairs to search for our clothes. As I was pulling my jeans on, I heard his brother's car pull in the driveway. I threw my shirt on and was just pulling it down as I walked down the stairs. Brad was right behind me, and his brother came around the corner and started up the stairs. He kinda gave us a weird look, and just said "hi" and kept going. I personally think he knows what's going on between us too, but like Bitch, has never actually said anything, so we let it go. Brad and I had a cigarette before I left, and he gave me a wink as I got in the car. He walked over, and I rolled down the window.

"Thanks again, don't make any plans for Saturday night. I have to work Sunday morning, but I might be able to work something out." He said.

"Alright," I said, smiling. "Let me know. I'll be ready." I replied.

So needless to say, I slept damn good last night. But once again, I woke up horny as hell this morning. I guess it's a good side effect I always get after I've been sick, but I thought the aftereffects of last night would tie me over a little longer than 12 hours... I shouldn't complain though. Someday I'm going to get old and not be able to get it up at all... Hopefully someday far far away... I think I need to give my ex a call, and be very very nice to her.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Settling Dust

What a freakin' week this has been since my last post! I left for Connecticut on Thursday afternoon, with a cold. The border patrol searched my car before they'd let me cross, then I had to register with Immigration too. After driving for eight hours, I certainly felt no better when we finally got there. It snowed from Mass. down, so eight hours was pretty good time I guess. Friday morning when I woke up, I felt even worse, so I doubled my dose of medication, which in the end, proved pretty effective :)

It turns out that Brad's "thing" he had to do was go to his first one-on-one meeting with his addiction councellor. Needless to say I felt really bad when I found that tidbit out, for being about half-pissed off when he said he couldn't drive me over Thursday afternoon. Anyways, I left him my spare set of keys and he got a drive over later that night and picked my car up for me. He called my cell to let me know he had gotten it, around 10 p.m. Thursday night. Before he hung up, he said that he had to talk to me about something when I got back, and never went in to any other detail, so of course that's what I thought about all weekend.

I called him Sunday to let him know that we were running late, and if I wasn't back before he had to go to work, just to take my car and I'd get a ride to his work and pick it up there. So when I got to his work, I grabbed a hardhat and went inside the factory where he works (and I used to work, so I knew where I was going) He had this big smile on his face when I walked up the stairs to where he was watching security monitors. It was loud in there, and another guy was lurking around so I knew we couldn't talk here. Plus I was still sick, and exhausted and just wanted to go home, unpack, and go to bed. But when Brad saw me, he told me I looked like shit; I said the same to him because he was also sick. He asked how my weekend was, and I kinda downplayed it because, despite being sick, it was pretty fun. I purposely left out the part about getting completely shitfaced Saturday night to curb my cold symptoms, and Brad picked up on that right away.

"You get drunk at all?" He asked me.
"No, didn't really feel like it, plus I was meeting new, influential people so I wanted to leave a fairly good impression..." I replied.

"Did you?" I asked him with a sheepish look on my face.
"No," he grinned "but I sure wanted to Saturday night. Just because it was Saturday night, but I didn't. That's all I dreamt about all night..." He said, looking down.

"Man, that's normal. That's the first Saturday night in years that you haven't got drunk." I told him.

Then he sighed, "Man, this is hard. Like, I know I've quit before, but I never said anything about being an alcoholic and now I have these courses and meetings to go to and every time I have nothing to do, that's all I think about doing (meaning drinking) and now all I want to do is work to keep myself busy. The weekends are the worst, like every Friday night, what did we used to do? You'd pick me up, and we'd get drunk. Saturday, I'd roll outta bed around noon and do it all over again and it just became a habit that got harder and harder to break and now nothing seems the same. Mom and dad treat me different, better but different, and (Bitch) won't leave me alone, she's always on my back asking if I want anything, if I wanna do this or do that and I just want her to leave me alone, and Saturday night she was really bad, and I just wanted to go somewhere quiet but no one else was there to get me out of the house" and when he said that, he gave me this weird look.

"Are you mad because I went away for the weekend?" I asked him.

He said "Well, no I'm not mad, I knew you had that trip planned, and I had to work all weekend anyways, but Saturday night I just wanted to go... to th'... I wanted to go to the camp."

"Oh." I said to him. "Well, we can go to the camp anytime you want, you know that, right?" I asked him.

"Yeah, maybe we could..." He started, but the lurker had moved back to the desk next to us.

"I need to go out back and check some stuff. I'll give you a call Tuesday night. I have to work the day shift that day but then I'm off until Saturday again." He told me.

"Okay, gimme a call." I said, then turned and walked down the stairs. He was following me, and as we turned the corner at the bottom, he grabbed my ass. When I turned around, he put his hand lightly on my crotch.

"We need to go SOON." Brad whispered, and winked at me.

I smiled, and promised him we would go somewhere as soon as possible.

When I got to my car, I discovered that Brad had washed it, cleaned the interior up a bit, filled the gas tank, and rewired my rear speakers (which had been bugging him for months because one of them was vibrating). Man, he'd worked all weekend, and still found time to do all this. He really must have needed to keep busy! The car smelled like him. I hadn't realized how bad I actually missed him all weekend until I saw him. Now my car smelled like him. All I could think about while I was gone was if he was breaking down, drinking again, and if not, where he realized he had to change his life drastically if we would keep "us" going. It sounds selfish but a part of me was wishing that things could just stay the same, I could put up with his drinking as long as we would still fuck. I feel horrible for thinking that, but that's how strongly I felt. But now, apparently he still wanted to do it, so I wasn't going to object by any means.

So hopefully this weekend we will get a trip to the cabin in. The only problem is, if we told Bitch where we were going, and that she couldn't go, that would pretty much give it away. And if we just disappeared like we used to, people would think that
a. we had no doubt gone to get drunk somewhere, and
b. that we were shackin' up for sure

So we'll have to work something out... Because Brad's right. We do have to go somewhere soon. VERY soon.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Cold Medication ROCKS

So I've had this trip to Connecticut planned for weeks. I've been so excited, and wouldn't you know, the day before I'm supposed to leave, I get sick. I haven't had any type of illness for over a year, and the one weekend I have actual cemented plans, I get sick. It's just fucking magical. However, I've stocked up on every type of cold medication readily available, and last night before bed, I made myself a nice cocktail. Needless to say, I slept like a frickin' baby all night, and I'm still a little giddy here at work today. Therefore, with my throat sore and my head achey, I will plunge into the various insignificant things that have pissed me off so far today:

- Mariah Carey needs to just GO AWAY. Yes, dear, you were big in the 90's. Well, the 90's are sooo over. Suck it up. Your one attempt at filmmaking pretty much ruined whatever credibility you had left, and this pathetic Princess/Diva act you got goin' on is more irritating than ANYTHING.

- Why is it so goddamn cold??? I know this is Canada, but seriously. It's like -30 degrees outside!!! That's not normal. Especially when I wore nothing but a t-shirt and sleep pants on Christmas Day. This is the second day of March for chrissakes, and my car wouldn't even start yesterday morning.

- I asked Brad if he could drive me over to my point of departure, and to take my car for the weekend so I wouldn't have to leave it unattended (something I don't care to do). So then I find out that he has someplace else to be, and no one else is available to take me over. So in order for me not to leave my car in a strange place with the risk of it getting towed, I need to leave work earlier than expected so he can be on time for his whatever he's doing.

- I'm sick. I'm going on vacation, and I'm sick. Enough said. Even though I already said it above...

My head is spinning in a very nice way. I'm really enjoying the feeling of all the different types of medication mixing together. It's going to make that 8 hour drive seem not so bad. I've only eaten soup for the last 36 hours, and believe you me, I AM HUNGRY. There's not much point in eating anything else; I can't taste anything except the horrible taste you get when you have a cold. Fuck I hate being sick...

The medicine is doing weird things to my mind. I can no longer remember all the things I wanted to blog about... So I'm off until next Monday. I'll let y'all in on the details of my trip after I get back.

Have a good one!