While trying on my investigative hat again this evening I realized that John may have used a vacation rental address for the form I found. It's a ham radio license, and it was originally issued with the last known address I have. I'm going to guess he uses the radio for sailing and not much else. The town with the updated address is on the water. It also seems to be something of an old talk show host mecca, as I found two who currently live there. And that was without trying, with the prices homes were commanding, ($35,000 a month rentals) and it's proximity to NYC, I'm sure many other famous rich people live there. I'm still searching for a number, and I'm still going to send something, but, honestly, ... I don't expect a reply.
I also realized that the same friend who introduced me to my son's father was instrumental in my talking to John.
I dumped a drink on the head of a girl I knew through my ex that night. Don't worry, I made it look like an accident by taking a drink from the guy behind the bar (who was a very recent ex), reaching over the girl's head and tilting. I got away with it the first time. The second time I got a little overzealous and someone noticed. The girl's friend towered over me, slurring and screaming about me dumping a drink on her friend's head. I caught some looks from the guys that let me know I wouldn't be winning any friends if I started shit, so I did what any good asshole drunk without backup would do -- I lied my fucking ass off. I didn't just say I didn't do it, oh no, that wasn't good enough for me. I had to throw in there that if I had wanted to pour a drink on her head, I would have just done it cuz I didn't give a fuck what those bitches thought about me. It worked. (We actually all ended up being friends and we're all Facebook friends today, but I never admitted I purposely dumped my drink on her head.)
After that spectacle, I went to talk to my friend Josh, who was talking to John, who had just returned to school (and his fraternity) for his Master's degree after two years working. They were in the doorway to the bar room, wedged into the space to get behind the bar. I decided John was mine. He decided no such thing was going to happen. Being the charming asshole that I was, I didn't go away when he refused to dance with me, multiple times. He was laughing as he refused, so I didn't give up. When Josh got tired of me being a pain in the ass, he came up with a plan. If I could walk across the bar, which was shoulder to shoulder drunks, and back with a full, open can of beer on my head, John would dance with me.
I fall over standing still. People think I'm invisible or something, because I always get knocked around. I was wasted.
Of course I agreed.
Josh made a big show of opening the can of Black Label for my head, and I set off, head rigid, hands raised, hoping to minimize the beer spill to come. Except it never came. I have no idea how I did it, other than slowly and screaming for people to get out of my way, but I did it.
When I got back to the guys, John was laughing in open mouthed disbelief, poking Josh, yelling that Josh had made the deal and not him. Josh was just open mouthed and shrugging, insisting that he thought he'd found a way to get me to go away. I was grinning wildly, drinking the beer that had been on my head. John put another qualifier on the deal, and off I went to complete part two of my impossible quest. The song he required started playing within minutes. :D He was a good sport and followed me to the dance floor.
Later, we sat at a dining room table talking for hours, until I got a phone call. Yeah, I got a phone call on the lobby phone of his fraternity, and someone I didn't know at the time, but clearly knew who I was, came looking for me. After that, John lied and said his sister was visiting so he had to go home. I have no idea what happened next, I know the phone call I got was the start of some very psychotic behavior on the part of my friend's girlfriend, but I think I just passed out somewhere, sure that John would eventually see my charms.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Does Googling People Ever Pay Off?
After some not-very-obsessive searching for this guy, I finally found a recent address. (I lied, it was slightly obsessive. Other people paid to find the info and couldn't. OK, maybe slightly is understatement too, but I did often go months without trying.) Of course, the address alone tells me very little about his life. Sure, I know he's got an exclusive zipcode and lives only slightly over 2 hours away, near an area I hated when I visited him before, but what does that really tell me? I don't know if he's married to his job, or his boat, or waiting for same sex marriage to be legal in his state. (I hope he's not holding his breath if that's the case.)
Basically, now that I have an address, I'm scared to use it. I want to send something that shows some effort, doesn't look creepy, and most of all, something that makes him smile and hopefully want to contact me. Of course I want him to see it, and decide he can't waste another minute, he has to call me, but I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen. And what if it did? What do I have to offer, even by way of a decent conversation? Not much. I don't want to tell him the truth about my life now. I don't want to skirt around any questions aimed my way, or just start crying about how much I miss him.
And what if he doesn't respond? Could I handle that? I'm not so sure any amount of bracing myself would soften that blow. So I don't know what I'd do if he does or doesn't respond. Awesome.
I just know I need to decide soon, in case he moves again.
I was going to send an anonymous card cuz I'm a fat loser. That just seems dumb though, because if he knows it's me and wants to contact me, he wouldn't be able to. I could give my last name and any zipcode within a 60 mile radius and I wouldn't be easily found. All three colleges I attended had someone with the same name, the same years I was there. I worked with one of them for a few weeks. So, then I considered sending something with my name, but no address -- same dumb dilemma. I want to send everything and have him try every single way to contact me as soon as he gets it. I want to tell him I'm a big fat loser who doesn't deserve a moment of his time, but I'd love to have it. Maybe I'll try that mythical magic ground and send some funny reminder of our past and put a return address on the envelope and hope for the best.
Basically, now that I have an address, I'm scared to use it. I want to send something that shows some effort, doesn't look creepy, and most of all, something that makes him smile and hopefully want to contact me. Of course I want him to see it, and decide he can't waste another minute, he has to call me, but I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen. And what if it did? What do I have to offer, even by way of a decent conversation? Not much. I don't want to tell him the truth about my life now. I don't want to skirt around any questions aimed my way, or just start crying about how much I miss him.
And what if he doesn't respond? Could I handle that? I'm not so sure any amount of bracing myself would soften that blow. So I don't know what I'd do if he does or doesn't respond. Awesome.
I just know I need to decide soon, in case he moves again.
I was going to send an anonymous card cuz I'm a fat loser. That just seems dumb though, because if he knows it's me and wants to contact me, he wouldn't be able to. I could give my last name and any zipcode within a 60 mile radius and I wouldn't be easily found. All three colleges I attended had someone with the same name, the same years I was there. I worked with one of them for a few weeks. So, then I considered sending something with my name, but no address -- same dumb dilemma. I want to send everything and have him try every single way to contact me as soon as he gets it. I want to tell him I'm a big fat loser who doesn't deserve a moment of his time, but I'd love to have it. Maybe I'll try that mythical magic ground and send some funny reminder of our past and put a return address on the envelope and hope for the best.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Insomniac Snippets
I've got horrible insomnia and can't complete a thought to save my life. There's more to these stories, but I figured I'd put the snippets out there in case I never finish the thoughts behind them.
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These days that blend together in a neverending cycle of sleeping when I should be waking and vice versa are wearing me down. They remind me of when I was lonely and kinda shattered, but not quite, like the shell on a hardboiled egg that has been pounded, and you can see all the cracks, and know that the inside is suffering the effects and rotting as you watch, but it's still on the egg, and the egg, obviously, does nothing to remove or repair the damage. It just sits there, being an inanimate object that once had a shot at being a living creature. I guess that's kinda how I feel.
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One of the bouncers I was friendly with, upon seeing me seated alone at the bar, asked, "Where is your royal court tonight?" I was confused, he mentioned me always having a different group of people following me around, and I laughed dismissively, saying my friend would be there in a few minutes. I had many people comment on my ever changing bar companions. Most people said it in awe, and added things along the lines of, "Do you know everyone?"
My reaction to these comments was always the same, superficially dismissive, secretly wondering why they didn't realize it just meant no one could put up with me that often.
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I got kicked off the drunk bus that night. We were in a beach party town, he had driven us to a condo procured by my friend's friends. I knew the people who had paid for the place from going to their bar. I don't really know how I ended up semi-invited there, but I do know Matt was the one who drove us there, despite the fact that no one but me knew him at all. By the time I got back to the condo with Matt, I was only wearing a bra and thong. That was highly unusual for me. Under the guise of taking care of me, or getting me to calm down, pass out, whatever, Matt took me to the balcony, where I know I told him "No" many, many times. I also know that I did eventually cave in, saying, "Jesus Christ, just shut up and do it already, you're getting on my nerves." To his credit, he did ask if I was sure. I don't remember exactly how I replied, but I know I displayed general annoyance of the situation.
As he pushed my underwear out of the way and entered me, he made a noise of such sheer and utter satisfaction, from waiting for over a year for that moment, that just what was happening sunk into my drink addled mind. To his credit, his first stroke was his only one, because he stopped as soon as I realized what we were doing and started freaking out. I was angry and wouldn't speak to him after that. I remember him telling me angrily that he was wasted too and that maybe if I'd talk to him, I'd find out that he was sorry. I wouldn't talk to him. It was an uncomfortable day or two at the beach and a hellish four hours home.
Several years later I saw him at my oldest bar hangout. My friend had just died, and I was feeling nostalgic (and a little generous -- I know, how kind of me), so I said hello. The look of joy at my acknowledgment of his existence struck me like a backhand. I sneered at him, snarled about how I couldn't believe he was still in love with me and stalked away, leaving him open mouthed and gasping, near tears in the bar. I haven't seen him since.
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These days that blend together in a neverending cycle of sleeping when I should be waking and vice versa are wearing me down. They remind me of when I was lonely and kinda shattered, but not quite, like the shell on a hardboiled egg that has been pounded, and you can see all the cracks, and know that the inside is suffering the effects and rotting as you watch, but it's still on the egg, and the egg, obviously, does nothing to remove or repair the damage. It just sits there, being an inanimate object that once had a shot at being a living creature. I guess that's kinda how I feel.
--------------------
One of the bouncers I was friendly with, upon seeing me seated alone at the bar, asked, "Where is your royal court tonight?" I was confused, he mentioned me always having a different group of people following me around, and I laughed dismissively, saying my friend would be there in a few minutes. I had many people comment on my ever changing bar companions. Most people said it in awe, and added things along the lines of, "Do you know everyone?"
My reaction to these comments was always the same, superficially dismissive, secretly wondering why they didn't realize it just meant no one could put up with me that often.
-------------------
I got kicked off the drunk bus that night. We were in a beach party town, he had driven us to a condo procured by my friend's friends. I knew the people who had paid for the place from going to their bar. I don't really know how I ended up semi-invited there, but I do know Matt was the one who drove us there, despite the fact that no one but me knew him at all. By the time I got back to the condo with Matt, I was only wearing a bra and thong. That was highly unusual for me. Under the guise of taking care of me, or getting me to calm down, pass out, whatever, Matt took me to the balcony, where I know I told him "No" many, many times. I also know that I did eventually cave in, saying, "Jesus Christ, just shut up and do it already, you're getting on my nerves." To his credit, he did ask if I was sure. I don't remember exactly how I replied, but I know I displayed general annoyance of the situation.
As he pushed my underwear out of the way and entered me, he made a noise of such sheer and utter satisfaction, from waiting for over a year for that moment, that just what was happening sunk into my drink addled mind. To his credit, his first stroke was his only one, because he stopped as soon as I realized what we were doing and started freaking out. I was angry and wouldn't speak to him after that. I remember him telling me angrily that he was wasted too and that maybe if I'd talk to him, I'd find out that he was sorry. I wouldn't talk to him. It was an uncomfortable day or two at the beach and a hellish four hours home.
Several years later I saw him at my oldest bar hangout. My friend had just died, and I was feeling nostalgic (and a little generous -- I know, how kind of me), so I said hello. The look of joy at my acknowledgment of his existence struck me like a backhand. I sneered at him, snarled about how I couldn't believe he was still in love with me and stalked away, leaving him open mouthed and gasping, near tears in the bar. I haven't seen him since.
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