The Night I Got A Drink Thrown In My Face
To go back in time a bit, there used to be a boy I'd talked about when, looking towards the past, I was seemingly a boy too. I think I used to call him "Check Out Boy" or "Cash Register Guy". I can't remember. All I know is, I eventually hooked up with him and then cut him off because he wanted more and I had nothing more to give.
That was probably six or seven years ago.
A time came when we started to become friends. Though there were several awkward stumbling blocks. Things like him stalking me outside my apartment at 3 AM drunk and texting me asking if I was awake. Eventually we seemed to make it through that and became quite good drinking buddies. Though everyone, including me, still felt there was something more there. In fact, I'd often find myself getting into fights with him that seemed more like the sort of arguments a couple would have.
A few incidents happened recently. On New Year's Eve he threw a huge fit over my not kissing him on the mouth at midnight. Not just a peck either. When he attempted to, his mouth was wide open and he was looking for something more than that. An argument ensued and I basically told him to get lost if he was going to insist on not being fun.
Then we were out another night. He had this awful habit of saying very condescending things to strangers and passing them off as compliments. I always died of embarrassment when this happened. This particular night he commented to some dumb Trixie about how nice her outfit was. Well, the dumb Trixie had a friend with her who just moved to Chicago and was immediately taken with me. We were chatting up a storm, much to the dismay of all parties.
Apparently the girl commented that the Doctor and I were too old to be talking to her friend. Probably not too far off considering he was about 24.
But wait, I haven't given this Cash Register Boy a new name as it's desperately called for that he has one. I suppose I will just refer to him now as the Puerto Rican.
So the Puerto Rican comes back over with this queenly facial expression and asks, "Oh, is THIS still going on?" while pointing up and down at the kid I am talking to. Thankfully, since this kid's friends were also assholes he took it in stride. But, this eventually stirred more strife between the Puerto Rican and I. It seemed that my even talking to a boy caused him jealousy. Surely up to this point any guy I pointed out as cute he would immediately scoff at in disgust. Now he was doing it AS I was talking to such guys.
Finally, it came time for me to have my first Super Bowl party. I invited a core group of friends. But, PR wouldn't commit to coming. He said that he would not RSVP to keep "everyone guessing" as there were several other of my friends there he believed wanted to have sex with him. None of them of course actually wanted to. I suppose after the incident with the boy at the bar I had had enough of him and told him I needed to take a break from him.
This lead to two or three weeks of silent bliss followed by his queeny Mexican friend accosting me on the street demanding me to apologize for my impudence toward PR. It was all very stupid and eventually last Friday I was ready to just move on from it. And seemingly so was PR.
This Wednesday I went out with the Doctor and the PR joined us. Eventually Rockwell as well. Things seemed fine and we had round after round until after 11 the Doctor and Rockwell left. From there, it seems a cloud of crazy descended on the bar.
After a few minutes of normal conversation the PR starts telling me he is absolutely sure there is more he and I need to work thru concerning our previous argument and my "needing a break" from him. Honestly, I was done with that and I was ready to just move forward.
Then he goes off about how he wants to be more than just "a bar friend" and this leads into him (once again) going off on a psycho tangent about me "expressing my feelings". Now what feelings he is hoping I'll express, I am not sure. There was nothing more I wanted to talk about. I was happy sitting in the bar, drinking and bullshitting. But, again he reiterated he was *CERTAIN* there was something more I needed to say. And that he *URGED* me to "open up" and "express" myself.
He then began rehashing all the past arguments before blatantly saying "You think I'm in love with you right now, don't you?". I tried to play off the question to which the obvious answer was a resounding, psychopathic "YES!".
This wouldn't do though, he kept pushing further and further talking about feelings and friendship and who knows what else. Badgering me relentlessly with questions, barking at me for not answering them but interrupting me when I attempted to break any words. Somewhere amidst the conversation of our not being good friends or really sharing anything about ourselves (which is ludicrous if one knows me), we got onto the topic of how we were out over the last summer and had a conversation about his mom dying, seeing her ghost and having some spiritual discussion to which I said he was almost crying in the bar.
This sent him into a psychotic rage in which he began screaming "I HAVE NEVER CRIED IN FRONT OF YOU. YOU ARE A CRAZY LIAR. YOU ARE A COMPLETE LIAR!"
Not sure why I would choose to make up a story like that, but whatever. Things were getting heated and my impulse was to get out of there before being embarrassed in front of a bar full of strangers. I commented to him that it'd probably be best for us not to be having this discussion while drunk. His response went back to my inability to "EXPRESS" my feelings and that I should just "fucking go".
Of course, when I put my coat on to go, he retorted "Just run away like you always do."
Basically, it was a no-win scenario.
He continued on calling me a liar and a drunk. All sorts of horrible things about my character. I found him to generally just be a lunatic but the more he put my integrity into question the more I just wanted to lash out. He eventually gave me a window, to which I said…
"Why would I make up a story about you whining about your dead mother?" (or something along those lines)
In what seemed like a slow-motion eternity I saw his face turn to horror that I would make such a statement. Then the glass slowly coming around and his lips puckering into a raged contortion as the liquid streamed out in mid-air and the cold rush of soda and black cherry vodka hits my face. I could feel the cold rush over my open eyes.
Hilariously, half the liquid hit my face and shot directly up, hitting the underside of my hat's brim and falling back over my face a second time.
For a split second I was filled with the purest rage and my impulse was to reach out with my fist and enter his face. But, my 'aversion to embarrassment alarm' began dinging and I realized that it was now time for me to leave. The front of my red puffy coat marked with the impact splatter of liquid. My face glimmering. I said good bye, turned and walked towards the door.
Of course, trying to avoid the gazes of the bar backs at the door I attempted going out a side door, which was unfortunately locked. Oh well.
In recollection, I find the whole story quite amusing and I've decided that a great story outweighs any embarrassment over public humiliation. My life may be lame, but interesting stuff is woven in.
Since then, PR has deleted me and everyone he knew through me from Facebook (not blocking me though since I'm sure he still fully intends to stalk me).
And I have to admit several levels of relief that the stressful friendship appears to be over. In addition to his wanting me to go out Thursday night for more drinks, he'd wanted me to take him to Agent Smith's wedding. I'd hoped to get out of doing so and now, amazingly things have worked in my favor.
Really, it's a weight lifted. I haven't been allowed to say anything about his obvious affections for me because then I am accused of being egotistical. But, everyone else witnessed it and constantly commented on it. I suppose I wanted to ignore it because he was one of the few people I know who would be willing to go out for drinks on random nights at a moment's notice.
And, since my priority right now is to be as drunk as possible all the time, he was really #1 on the list. I guess maybe he was right on one thing, he was really my ultimate bar friend.
Touche.
That was probably six or seven years ago.
A time came when we started to become friends. Though there were several awkward stumbling blocks. Things like him stalking me outside my apartment at 3 AM drunk and texting me asking if I was awake. Eventually we seemed to make it through that and became quite good drinking buddies. Though everyone, including me, still felt there was something more there. In fact, I'd often find myself getting into fights with him that seemed more like the sort of arguments a couple would have.
A few incidents happened recently. On New Year's Eve he threw a huge fit over my not kissing him on the mouth at midnight. Not just a peck either. When he attempted to, his mouth was wide open and he was looking for something more than that. An argument ensued and I basically told him to get lost if he was going to insist on not being fun.
Then we were out another night. He had this awful habit of saying very condescending things to strangers and passing them off as compliments. I always died of embarrassment when this happened. This particular night he commented to some dumb Trixie about how nice her outfit was. Well, the dumb Trixie had a friend with her who just moved to Chicago and was immediately taken with me. We were chatting up a storm, much to the dismay of all parties.
Apparently the girl commented that the Doctor and I were too old to be talking to her friend. Probably not too far off considering he was about 24.
But wait, I haven't given this Cash Register Boy a new name as it's desperately called for that he has one. I suppose I will just refer to him now as the Puerto Rican.
So the Puerto Rican comes back over with this queenly facial expression and asks, "Oh, is THIS still going on?" while pointing up and down at the kid I am talking to. Thankfully, since this kid's friends were also assholes he took it in stride. But, this eventually stirred more strife between the Puerto Rican and I. It seemed that my even talking to a boy caused him jealousy. Surely up to this point any guy I pointed out as cute he would immediately scoff at in disgust. Now he was doing it AS I was talking to such guys.
Finally, it came time for me to have my first Super Bowl party. I invited a core group of friends. But, PR wouldn't commit to coming. He said that he would not RSVP to keep "everyone guessing" as there were several other of my friends there he believed wanted to have sex with him. None of them of course actually wanted to. I suppose after the incident with the boy at the bar I had had enough of him and told him I needed to take a break from him.
This lead to two or three weeks of silent bliss followed by his queeny Mexican friend accosting me on the street demanding me to apologize for my impudence toward PR. It was all very stupid and eventually last Friday I was ready to just move on from it. And seemingly so was PR.
This Wednesday I went out with the Doctor and the PR joined us. Eventually Rockwell as well. Things seemed fine and we had round after round until after 11 the Doctor and Rockwell left. From there, it seems a cloud of crazy descended on the bar.
After a few minutes of normal conversation the PR starts telling me he is absolutely sure there is more he and I need to work thru concerning our previous argument and my "needing a break" from him. Honestly, I was done with that and I was ready to just move forward.
Then he goes off about how he wants to be more than just "a bar friend" and this leads into him (once again) going off on a psycho tangent about me "expressing my feelings". Now what feelings he is hoping I'll express, I am not sure. There was nothing more I wanted to talk about. I was happy sitting in the bar, drinking and bullshitting. But, again he reiterated he was *CERTAIN* there was something more I needed to say. And that he *URGED* me to "open up" and "express" myself.
He then began rehashing all the past arguments before blatantly saying "You think I'm in love with you right now, don't you?". I tried to play off the question to which the obvious answer was a resounding, psychopathic "YES!".
This wouldn't do though, he kept pushing further and further talking about feelings and friendship and who knows what else. Badgering me relentlessly with questions, barking at me for not answering them but interrupting me when I attempted to break any words. Somewhere amidst the conversation of our not being good friends or really sharing anything about ourselves (which is ludicrous if one knows me), we got onto the topic of how we were out over the last summer and had a conversation about his mom dying, seeing her ghost and having some spiritual discussion to which I said he was almost crying in the bar.
This sent him into a psychotic rage in which he began screaming "I HAVE NEVER CRIED IN FRONT OF YOU. YOU ARE A CRAZY LIAR. YOU ARE A COMPLETE LIAR!"
Not sure why I would choose to make up a story like that, but whatever. Things were getting heated and my impulse was to get out of there before being embarrassed in front of a bar full of strangers. I commented to him that it'd probably be best for us not to be having this discussion while drunk. His response went back to my inability to "EXPRESS" my feelings and that I should just "fucking go".
Of course, when I put my coat on to go, he retorted "Just run away like you always do."
Basically, it was a no-win scenario.
He continued on calling me a liar and a drunk. All sorts of horrible things about my character. I found him to generally just be a lunatic but the more he put my integrity into question the more I just wanted to lash out. He eventually gave me a window, to which I said…
"Why would I make up a story about you whining about your dead mother?" (or something along those lines)
In what seemed like a slow-motion eternity I saw his face turn to horror that I would make such a statement. Then the glass slowly coming around and his lips puckering into a raged contortion as the liquid streamed out in mid-air and the cold rush of soda and black cherry vodka hits my face. I could feel the cold rush over my open eyes.
Hilariously, half the liquid hit my face and shot directly up, hitting the underside of my hat's brim and falling back over my face a second time.
For a split second I was filled with the purest rage and my impulse was to reach out with my fist and enter his face. But, my 'aversion to embarrassment alarm' began dinging and I realized that it was now time for me to leave. The front of my red puffy coat marked with the impact splatter of liquid. My face glimmering. I said good bye, turned and walked towards the door.
Of course, trying to avoid the gazes of the bar backs at the door I attempted going out a side door, which was unfortunately locked. Oh well.
In recollection, I find the whole story quite amusing and I've decided that a great story outweighs any embarrassment over public humiliation. My life may be lame, but interesting stuff is woven in.
Since then, PR has deleted me and everyone he knew through me from Facebook (not blocking me though since I'm sure he still fully intends to stalk me).
And I have to admit several levels of relief that the stressful friendship appears to be over. In addition to his wanting me to go out Thursday night for more drinks, he'd wanted me to take him to Agent Smith's wedding. I'd hoped to get out of doing so and now, amazingly things have worked in my favor.
Really, it's a weight lifted. I haven't been allowed to say anything about his obvious affections for me because then I am accused of being egotistical. But, everyone else witnessed it and constantly commented on it. I suppose I wanted to ignore it because he was one of the few people I know who would be willing to go out for drinks on random nights at a moment's notice.
And, since my priority right now is to be as drunk as possible all the time, he was really #1 on the list. I guess maybe he was right on one thing, he was really my ultimate bar friend.
Touche.