In rereading last night’s post, I suddenly realized how insanely childish I sound. Just when I think I’m an adult, a moment like this shows me that I have a lot farther to go before I join the ranks of the mature.
I’ve gotten sick of seeing that last entry at the top of the page, so it’s time for an update.
Charlie went AWOL after our date a couple weeks ago. No returns on the email and phone call I sent his way. A week and a half went by with no word. I understand this is not terribly long, but I started getting antsy. Was this going to be another case of someone disappearing without any explanation? On Monday I finally sent him an email asking where we stood. I got this back:
Kevin,
I am sorry that I haven’t talked to you. I had a great time that night, too. I have been extremely busy and even more stressed lately. Things aren’t going so well and I have just been spending a lot of time to myself. I am really trying to figure out where to go next. It’s not your fault. I have just needed some time to focus on resolving some of my own issues. I hope you are well. Please keep in touch and forgive me for my lack of communication. Have a great day and hope to hear from you again soon.
Charlie
At present I’m deciphering that to mean that he’s still interested, but that he doesn’t have time for me right now. *sigh*. I suppose this is good in some ways. He’s not outright rejecting me. He’s just got other stuff going on, and I respect that, just as I respect his honesty. But I wonder: how long can I hold a crush? Is it worth it to keep hope that something will end up working out?
Goddamn that’s selfish of me. And yet I can’t help but feel that way. I just want a slice of happiness, something new to smile about. I want it, and I’m fucking impatient. Looks like I’m full of faults today.
I realized the other day that I’m constantly on the search for the One. I’ve never dated casually, and I seem to be incapable of it. I’m a creature who bonds for life. If there’s a deep connection, then I’m all in. If there’s not, then I’m not interested. That applies with my closest friends. I don’t often share my life with those who won’t be there for the long haul. It’s very difficult for me to maintain superficial relationships, which I guess is part of the reason I have no dating life to speak of. I’m not okay with the idea of having some sort of a relationship only to have it end in a few months or years. I’m really trying to revise my worldview, to be a little more open. Maybe there are people assigned to certain times and places in my life. Maybe I’m just going to have to accept that. But I’d like to think there’s something to what I feel. I’d like to think there are others out there like me.
Anyway, I’m not saying that I think Charlie is the One. Far from it. But I recognize some sort of potential in him. There’s a rare comfort and ease in speaking to him. I don’t find that often.
So I guess it’s up to me to send the occasional email, to check in and see how things are. Maybe this’ll work, maybe not. All I can do is wait.
He invited me to go to a concert with him. Dark Star Orchestra at Variety Playhouse. I drove out to Kennesaw and picked him up, and we drove downtown to the venue. First impression: Charlie is too cool for words. We’re two hours early, so we walk around and just talk. He’s extremely extroverted, I introverted, but it works out well. He talks, I respond. It gets the conversation moving. We talk. And talk, and talk, and talk. I almost feel bad when it’s time for the show to start- kinda hard/rude to talk during a concert.
The show was packed. For those unfamiliar with Dark Star Orchestra, they are a very famous Grateful Dead cover band. The pick a particular Dead show from the past, and then perform the set in the exact way the Dead did on that date. Song for song, jam for jam. At the end of the show they tell you the date they played. Kinda cool. They were excellent musicians, and they put on one hell of a show. For being mostly unfamiliar with Grateful Dead material, I was impressed.
Further proof of the introvert vs. extrovert: whereas I am perfectly content to nod my head and tap my foot to the beat, Charlie is the kind of person who gets the fuck down. A little intimidating, but very impressive to watch.
During the middle of the show (which was five (!) hours long) I sat down. My ankles were killing me. Charlie stopped dancing, came over, and sat next to me. He took my hand in his, squeezed tightly, and would not let go. He leaned over, whispered that he was so glad I was there, and kissed me on the neck. I had an unbreakable smile.
After the show, I drove him home. We shared one last cigarette, and then he hugged me. He held me tightly for several minutes. When we finally broke apart, he kissed me.
I think I finally know that electric feeling, those sparks that everyone talks about. Once again, I was smiling with no end in sight.
And then. Fuck.
I made a right turn on red, which is supposed to be legal around here. There was a police officer. He pulled me over before I could get on the interstate. He takes me license to run a check. No problem. He comes back a few minutes later with another officer. I’m asked to get out of the car.
Unbeknownst to be, my license is suspended. One of the officers cuffs me. I’m under arrest.
My mother is called. She’s going to come pick up my car. I’m being taken to jail.
At the jail, everything is taken from me. My wallet, watch, piercings, shoelaces. I’m taken to a cell. There are around fifteen other people in there already. It’s cold, and I’m scared. All the bench space is taken, so I sit in the middle of the concrete floor, eyes down, knees to my chest.
Time stops. I’m not sure I really understood the term “glacial” before. But that’s what this is. A fight breaks out. I’m knocked over as one man breaks another’s nose. I’ve never been more terrified or alone.
Still sitting on the cold, hard floor. Time passes. There are no clocks, so I’m not sure if it’s been hours or minutes. People are being called one by one to leave the cell and get their bail. My name never comes.
Five hours later, my name is called. $1200 bail. They want it in cash. I’m allowed to use the telephone, so I call my mom. It’s a quarter to seven- the banks don’t open till nine.
I wait. My name is called again. I’m fingerprinted. Mugshots are taken. I’m sent back to the cell.
Finally, after nine hours, my name is called again. My mother has posted bail. She’s here to pick me up.
I’m home. I call the Tennessee Dept. Of Safety. Turns out the culprit is an old ticket for a missing headlight that they claim wasn’t dealt with properly. It’s going to cost $782.50, plus an additional $145 reinstatement fee to fix this mess.
I sleep. And now I am here. I have to appear in court on August 15th. With any luck I’ll appear and pay a fine, and it’ll be over and done with.
I’ve now been arrested. Me. Arrested. *sigh*. i just…. I don’t get this. I’m in a lot of pain, and I know it’s all my fault because I messed up somewhere along the way.
The perfect evening transformed into the night from hell.
I just want this to be over with.
I spent the day yesterday filling out online profiles, submitting pictures. I’m putting myself back out to the world. I want to date again. But really, what a hassle. Some dating sites won’t accept me because of my sexuality; others, my religious beliefs. I suppose it’s a great system for those involved, but it makes me feel pretty damn lonely.
And then, last night: a chat window appears. He says hello, I say hello, and suddenly! we’re off. We end up chatting for several hours. It was an easy, free-flowing conversation. We both like the same obscure music, have the same random interests. There’s beauty in being able to say what you’re thinking without having to analyze it, in not feeling the pressure of making sure it’s the right thing (that’s something I take for granted with my friends). He was nice, and he wasn’t just interested in getting me in the sack. I’ve been thinking about him a lot (okay, ALL) day today. Our conversation replays like home movies. I’m smiling.
Oh please, let this turn into something. I’m trying to keep my expectations low. At the same time I’m holding as tightly as I can to this warm, tingly feeling in my stomach.
Maybe, just maybe.
Not blogging for over a week has been interesting. I haven’t been particularly inclined to write anything, and I’ve completely lost the mentality of “Oh! I should blog that”. Maybe it’s because I’ve been fairly boring of late, maybe I’ve just lost the writing bug. Either way, things have happened, so I feel the need to update.
I made the disastrous decision to go off my meds, and it just so happens that I did this on a week where my parents were out of town. I was alone for a week, suffering withdrawal. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The effects of the withdrawal were particularly harrowing: I couldn’t sleep for more than an hour at a time, I had no appetite (and therefore didn’t eat), and I went into the worst (short) depressive episode I’d ever experienced. Lying on the floor, wanting to kill myself kinda depression. Every bad thing I’d ever done came back to revisit me, to torture me. Even doing it the right way (with a doctor’s assistance), going off the medication was a BAD IDEA.
I just felt so clouded-up, y’know? So muddled by anything and everything. I thought the pills were the problem, and I wanted a quick fix.
So I’m back on the drugs, albeit in a slightly different configuration. We’ve dropped the Zoloft (which wasn’t doing anything) and I’ve started taking Trazodone to help with the sleep (but which also happens to be an antidepressant). I’m kinda feeling normal….ish. I’m definitely better than where I was a week ago, so I’ll just be content with that for now.
Had a pretty good birthday. Went to dinner last night with the ‘rents, a nice Italian restaurant with plenty of fancy atmosphere, and conveniently located across the street from my mother’s office. Today was lunch with Katie and Patti, and an afternoon showing of Superman Returns (which was actually quite good).
Big news: I’m officially staying in the Atlanta area for the time being. I haven’t yet broke this news to the roomie, and I have no idea how she’ll take it. I’m still going to pay my half of the rent, it’s not like I’m screwing her over or anything…. I just won’t be living there. Eek. I’m not looking forward to that conversation.
But I’ve been here for three and a half months now. Nashville no longer feels like a home to me. I hate that I’m essentially moving back in with my parents. Hate, hate, hate. But really, what choice do I have? I’m not stable, far from it. I don’t think I’m capable of working enough to be able to support myself. I’ve got a great doctor and a great therapist here in Atlanta. If I go back to Nashville, it’s highly likely that I’ll fail again. At least there’s a support system here, someone to fall back on who can take care of me if things get too bad.
I hate this decision. It feels like the wrong thing, though I know logically that it’s the only right choice to make. I’m going to try and start taking classes again this fall, and hopefully within a week or two I’ll find a good piano instructor (finally!) (If there’s one thing that’s opened up for me, this is it. No more worrying about it being a waste since I’m going back to Nashville. I’m not, and so now I can really move forward and do what I want to do). Once again I will be faced with consequences to my actions. But hopefully, HOPEFULLY this time the good will outweigh the bad. Maybe I can finally get my life straightened-out and in the direction it needs to be going. I’m not going to stay here forever, but maybe I just need a year to figure things out. If I can get stable here then I’ll be able to start thinking about where I really need to be.
For right now, this is all I have, so I’m counting on faith (in what?) and blind luck for this to work. I don’t have a lot of self-esteem at the moment, but maybe we can change that, too.
Oh, and I love you guys. All of you. Just thought you should know that.
… and I am now 22.
Um…. yay?