The post I'll wish I hadn't written

Last night was a strange and semi-wonderful night. (I only say "semi" because I still don't quite understand it). It was also the strangest sex that I've ever had...

I was feeling kind of crappy for most of the day yesterday. I've been having some issues with my post-surgery recovery and that was acting up. I'm going to see the doctor on Wednesday to take care of it. So, I was kind of fatigued and self-pitying and irritable. But I was glad that I got myself over to the AA meeting. It was good to see StarGazer and Pixie and Cherubino and some of the newer girls. Afterwards, I walked home and chatted with my friend Jake on the phone. We made dinner plans for next week.

When I got home, I was relieved to be back in my house. Lana called and we talked for a while. She is turning 21 this weekend and was a little anxious about planning the party. Then, at around 10:30 PM, I got a text from Narc. He said he was at Circa Tabac in Soho reading Shogun and asked if I wanted to join. Even though I was exhausted, I agreed.

When I got there, Narc was sitting at the bar, his back to me. I pulled up a bar stool close next to him and touched his arm.

"I knew it was you by your scent," he said. "You came in with a cloud of perfume."

I laughed.

Narc was drinking Jack Daniels on the rocks. It looked good. I ordered a diet coke. Circa Tabac is one of the few bars left in the city where smoking is permitted. I bummed one of his "black and golds." It reminded me of when he left a whole bag of them here at my apartment in October, 2005.

Narc was raving about Shogun. He told me that I was the only girl he ever recommended the book to (I still have his old copy) and that he couldn't believe I didn't take to it.

"But it's probably because you're a woman," he theorized.

There is always a lot of talk about male minds versus female minds with him. He told me to buy some special kind of cigarette with honey filters, so I did. It felt good to chain-smoke again. It felt good to be sitting in a bar (perched!). I loved the lighting, the smell, my knees bumping against his. I loved chewing on my straw. I just love bars. I really do.

We talked about a lot of things-- too many to recount. But some of it was refreshing and strange to me. We talked about AA.

"If it works for you, I have to respect that," he said. "I have no objections to that."

I was shocked.

"But it's outdated technology," he said.

"What do you mean?"

He went on to explain that AA was a design for living that is outdated and that there are much better spiritual programs out there like the Landmark Forum. (He has been talking about the Landmark Forum ever since I met him!) He kept trying to convince me to do the Forum.

"If you do it, you won't need AA anymore!"

"I like AA," I said. "Besides, I have no objection to the forum, but I can't afford it."

He was so adamant about me going, that he eventually offered to pay for it. However, I doubt that it will ever happen...

So, we talked some more... About Beauty and the Geek, about images, the nature of reality. I don't remember why, but I brought up that I have been listening to Regina Spektor.

"PopStar is SOOO jealous of her!" he exclaimed.

"Huh? Why?"

"Because she's another young Russian chick."

This, of course, got us onto the topic of PopStar-- a subject I used to dread, but which has now become neutralized. I don't seem to mind now at all.

Narc told me that he thinks that she was cheating on him from the very start-- with some "black DJ," when she was here in NY and then with "several lovers" when she was in Moscow.

"Well, you cheated on her too," I smiled.

"Yeah, but that's only because I knew she was cheating on me."

He looked sad or foolish. I couldn't tell. But, I couldn't help but hate her.

"I want to punch her in the face!" I told him. "You don't deserve that."

He laughed.

"Yeah, me too. I want to punch her in the face and make her nose bleed until it runs all over the floor."

Then I laughed.

"Get ready for a blog post from me in the next day or two," he smiled. "She's going to be looking very, very bad."

"Just be with someone nicer the next time," I said. "Someone who really wants to be with you."

"Yeah..."

He sighed to himself.

"Don't ever repeat this to me, but I'm going to tell you a secret."

"What?"

"I never even liked her to begin with. I never liked her as a person."

(Somehow, I wasn't surprised).

"But you just convinced yourself you were in love with her?"

"She was just the most driven girl I've ever met. She was going to be a PopStar. I thought it would drive me. I would be a famous director and she would be a famous popstar. But her songwriting sucks. And she's too old to start out as a Madonna now..."

It was strange to be having this conversation with him. But I felt like he was being himself. And I felt very close to him. I just kept puffing on my honey-tipped cigs. He was tossing back the Jack Daniels pretty fast-- at least five or six since I had arrived and who knows how many before.

Later, he asked me if I was sleeping with anyone other than him.

"No... not since September 2005," I said. "Oh... except for giving one blow job a few months later."

"Hyde, that's not healthy!" he exclaimed. "You should be with more...men." But he was smiling. I know it made him happy.

"What do you want me to do? Just sleep with random people?"

"No, but..."

"If I meet someone to be in a relationship with, that's a different story. Besides, I'd tell you if I was having sex with other people. You'd have the right to know... for health reasons."

"I just assume you're safe," he said.

"Well, I assume you are too... I hope you are."

"I haven't been with anyone except for you and Pop," he said.

(I wondered if she was safe, but kept my mouth shut).

At around 2:00 AM, it was time to go. I was sad to go. I liked being there. I liked being there with him.

Outside the streets were wet.

"It rained?" he asked.

"Um... I guess so."

The pavement was shining with red and yellow lights. The puddles were oily and black. We saw the silhouettes of a man and a woman, both with short hair.

"They look like they're straight out of a David Lynch movie," he observed.

"I had a really good time tonight," I answered.

He smiled at me. It was a friendly smile-- a connected smile. It was strange. He put his arm around my waist. We took a few steps towards Seventh to get a cab.

As for the rest of the night, I'm not sure what to write and what not to write. I want to write everything so that my memory is preserved, but at the same time, I don't want to make certain intimacies public. I never know how to write about sex. I always feel conflicted. I guess I'll do the job halfway and leave out the weirdest stuff.

In any case, as soon as we got back to his place I got on my knees and gave him a blowjob. Then he wanted another drink. He mixed up a Hennessy martini with a cucumber garnish.

"It's my signature drink," he said.

"What happened to the drink you invented? The one you named after yourself?"

"I found out that it already existed. It's called a 'red snapper.'"

"Oh."

Narc started telling me about some documentary about the moon landing. He was getting really excited about it, about the idea of exploration.

"I wish there was a way for men to be men in this society," he said. "A rite of passage... a life or death moment. For women it's easy-- they have their rite of passage-- it's menstruation."

What does one say to that?

He somehow got back onto the topic of Shogun and the adventures of the 16th century explorers. I was naked and wanted to lay down.

"No, sit up!" he insisted. "We're talking!"

Some time after that we got onto the topic of pornography and Narc was asking me all sorts of questions about what kind of pornography I watch (something else I don't usually discuss on the blog). I didn't want to tell him. I was embarrassed. It's strange-- despite everything we've been through, there are still huge pieces of my sexuality that I hadn't shared with him. But he kept insisting, and so eventually I described it to him. I have a subscription to a website, so he went into the bedroom and hooked up his computer to the giant TV screen mounted on the living room wall.

We watched scenes from a few of the movies interspersed with sex. It was strange for me to share that with him. He was rough with me and hit my face. I liked it. It was just sex, sex, sex... strange sex for hours. His foot was on my face, in my eyes. In between everything, we paused for cigarettes and he for martinis. I felt like something had lurched forward, but I couldn't identify what it was.

At around 4:00 AM and then closer to 5:00 AM, I kept trying to move us into the bedroom. Narc wasn't ready to go. He kept coming up with new reasons for us to have to stay in the living room, smoking and fucking. My eyes were stinging.

Finally, I got him to move.

"I want you to fall asleep with me in your mouth," he said. "Like a pacifier."

"Okay," I agreed.

But he kept getting up out of bed every 20 minutes or so to have another drink. I remember what that feeling is like.

When he finally got into bed for good, the sex got even weirder and freer... He was kissing me so passionately.

"I want to hire a girl to come over here and do ----------- with you," he said.

"Now? What? It's late, Narc!"

I'm glad that held him.

In any case, I guess I won't go into it all. But finally, at nearly 7:00 AM and still exhausted, I was asleep.

This morning my eyes opened just after 11:00 AM. My phone was ringing. It was the doctor about setting up a procedure to fix my complication. I took the call in the other room. I wasn't sure if the spell with Narc was broken.

But when I got back into bed, I saw that it wasn't. He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me in so close. More sex and more sex. More and more and more until it was nearly time for me to leave for therapy.

"I want you in the shower with me," he said.

Things in the shower got stranger still... Like I said, I have no boundaries. (Maybe I'll regret not being more explicit here, but I just CAN'T write about all that right now). He wanted to do things I never knew he was into. How can I just be discovering him now? After over three years? My head was spinning. My eyes were stinging.

He got out of the shower first while I finished up. When I came out, I heard him on the phone with James.

"Yeah, I was at Circa Tabac last night," he said. "Just reading... home not too late."

Again, I was written out of existence. But I didn't care. Instead of hurt, I felt pity-- that he can't be honest with his friends. It's between him and James. It really is none of my business. I felt wasted, spent, used up from the night's events, but strangely calm, at peace, wiser somehow. I doubt it will last, but there it was.

So, at around 1:15, we left together-- he to meet James and I to go to therapy.

Now, the night has fallen again. I'm heading to the Upper East Side tonight to celebrate JBC's birthday. I have to pick up a card before I go. I showered again and dried my hair. My lips are a mulberry color.

I still don't know what I'm feeling except for "okay" and that's okay. It was a weird night-- a moment, something random seized from the universe, something unfolded, something more real. I'll just appreciate it for what it was and move on. This weekend is going to be full of parties.

love,
h