There was fog out tonight, fog so thick, leftover fog from San Francisco bay. Fog so thick and heavy that I thought I was in some sort of horror movie. Thick. Heavy. Bad. Seriously messed up. And I'm from the desert, the heat and racism of Arizona, USA, a place where fog never hits. Bit I made it to the bar anyway. Why? Becuase I'm a trooper.
Bobbie was there at the karaoke bar tonight. She is a girl I work with, a young blonde woman that has hit on me, sure, and I've hit on her, sure, and she is as hot, as sexy, as incredibly attractive all to hell as she is rock stupid. Nice to see her drunk. It's everything you would expect and more.
I wanted to sing to her, not to Bobbie but to Col. Wanted to sing the song, OUR song, "Where Are you Going" by the Dave Matthews Band. The song I sing to her. But it never came in to the rotation. Oh well.
The fog should have let me know something, you know? Some sort of clue. Some sort of quiet, subconscious sign of things to come.
Sitting here eating Jack in the Crack and watching last year's Royal Rumble just so that I can see my hero, the Hurricane. I tried to downplay my love of wrestling when Deb and I were together. But now that I'm here I have to say ... I love wrestling, I love the Hurricane. I love all the stupid crap, the bad storylines, the overUBERdrama, the bad acting, the whole story. Like watching Titanic but with submission moves. And this, wrestling, I now know is my comfort show, my comfort food so to speak. I watch this to make me feel better. I mean, hey, as bad as things get, at least I'm not Test.
Speaking of the ex-fiance ...
I still love her. She'll probably never know this, but I still have a spot in my heart for her. In all my life, this one thing will never change. I am in love with Debby. I loved her and I still love her. I was engaged yto her for a reason, that I honestky thought we would spend the rest of our lives together. And that's that. It just hurts me now knowing how well her life is without me, you know? She's happy and energetic and open and honest and smiling and artistic, all the things she refused to be while in love with me. When I was on the phone with her (it was her birthday yesterday) she was saying goodbye to someone at the party and she said "Yeah, this is my year. This is my year to shine."
I cried because my life is drinking and working and drinking and falling in a painful love triangle. Yeah, sure, my life is great, too, Deb. Thanks.
I've cried way too much in the last 42 hours.
And they were there tonight. Him and her. My pretty little love triangle. We were good for a while, the three of us. Especially after last night, a lot of crying and yelling and violence and anger and aggression, but it was all acpped off by the three of us going to the bar and getting pissed ass drunk. And I know now that beer will wash away almost any anger. Almost. So tonight, or last night, was the night where he, the big HE, had his date I set him up on, right? But this date, the date between him and the illustrious Red Lobster chick, did not go well. Ok, yeah, she's already dating someone. Ok, he got hurt. And if she was single, my day would have been a million times better But things happened the way they did. And he's telling her these bad things and setting the seeds of self-doubt in me, and trying subconsciously, or perhaps consciously, to hurt us, to destroy us.
And I do love her, I think. I think I just might love this woman. And it scares me that I would even think about love ever again after being hurt so much with the Debmonster. But I find myself in feelings of eternal love with this woman. But, in all honestly, I cannot see us together if this other man is in the situation. As long as he is here, I will not be with this woman. If he's being a baby and playing these games, then Col and I will never happen. Ever.
The thing that hurts me the most about this ... that night, the night we spent together, the night me and her went out, the night eeventually everyone found out about ... we did not f**k each other. We made love. It was the first time I had sex in almost a year, and I was scared and frightened and nervous. But it happened. And it was beautiful. Fluid. Like water falling onto a windshield. Amazing.
And when I see her now, even at the horrible bar with the horrible music and the horrible beer, all I can think about is how she tastes, how she felt, and how I want that again.
But if he, the big HE, is in this situation, I cannot live through this pain, this frustration, this heartache. Everyday I wake up I am in pain. Everyday I live now I hurt. I don't know how much longer I can take this.
When I finally write this book, it's going to be f-en great. John Leguizamo is going to have to play me when I sell the movie rights.