She's a bitch, but I love her
This is an apology to anyone who was excited about my return to Pittsburgh.
I just couldn't do it.
Tuesday, I had a great show; I worked hard, and I looked good, and a lot of people saw it.
I was funny and mean and truthful and exacerbated, and I did different characters with different temperaments and varied postures and ways of speaking.
From the start, I could hear Eric's laughter in the darkness, and I knew he was there, along with a lot of the people at the theater for Harold Night.
We felt good. It felt good. It was something I had missed.
Afterward, I fought with myself over my decision to leave. I went to the grocery store, and I got on my cell phone. As I paced through the store, I made quite a few phone calls. First, to my parents. My mother didn't want to give me advice about this, really. She wanted me to make up my own mind. My dad, however, pointed out that I had built up to something, and that it would be a shame to waste it. I agreed with him, since this all has been in effect the culmination of about two years of misery and isolation.
I talked to Lexi; she did a good job of not crying too much.
And then Ic alled my landlady to tell her that - correction - I was intending to stay. I made a similar call to Frank, to clarify on a conversation we had had weeks before, as well as to head off anything Jay might say to him. (What I did not know was that Jay had already talked to Frank, and Frank had already spent this month's rent money on another apartment. More on this later?)
All that decided, I went out with my pal Lex (not Lexi) after the show (we stayed late to see Eric's group) and then I had my first steak in a long while and a pint of Guiness, which I rarely drink because it is usually pricy, at least it is in Pennsylvania, comparatively. And we joined some friends of his at another bar, a shitty copy of Coyote Ugly. I didn't like the place, trashy waitresses, the steroid musclefucks at the door, or the ease with which people touched each other.
That night, I was lonely as usual, and I came to realize how very different socialization is in New York from other places. Because of travel time, people just make arrangements to meet each other and do things together. In that way, everything is very formal. It's hard to get people to come to your place, and when you do, it seems to be formal as well.
No just getting together to watch TV or play board games. You pretty much have to make invitations. Or, e-vites, as we call them in the future.
So, I vacillated again. But, talking to Lexi, I understood that that was the trade-off I am making. A shot at possible success vs. assured friendship. One is good for me now, one is good for my future. Look, my college years are over. They were over by the time I actually had a decent group of college friends. As much as I might yearn to be back in that shitty Bates St. hovel, handing beer to underaged drinkers, I just can't. That time is over. In a year, a lot of people are going to disperse anyway, so why not end it for myself now?
Nothing stays the same forever, and I just needed to come to the realization that my time was up. In a little over a year, I will be married to Lexi, I will have fun with my friends, and I will have a happy home life.
If I am with Lexi, I will be happy. With her, I can do anything.
I miss my friends so much. It's killing me. I physically hurt from longing.
But this is what I am going to have to do.
Hopefully I can actually make something of myself.
Damnit, writing this is making me doubt again. I fucking hate this so much.
Why does life have to be so hard? Not just for me, but for all of us? This is is totally season 6, y'all!!!!!!!!!!!
I just couldn't do it.
Tuesday, I had a great show; I worked hard, and I looked good, and a lot of people saw it.
I was funny and mean and truthful and exacerbated, and I did different characters with different temperaments and varied postures and ways of speaking.
From the start, I could hear Eric's laughter in the darkness, and I knew he was there, along with a lot of the people at the theater for Harold Night.
We felt good. It felt good. It was something I had missed.
Afterward, I fought with myself over my decision to leave. I went to the grocery store, and I got on my cell phone. As I paced through the store, I made quite a few phone calls. First, to my parents. My mother didn't want to give me advice about this, really. She wanted me to make up my own mind. My dad, however, pointed out that I had built up to something, and that it would be a shame to waste it. I agreed with him, since this all has been in effect the culmination of about two years of misery and isolation.
I talked to Lexi; she did a good job of not crying too much.
And then Ic alled my landlady to tell her that - correction - I was intending to stay. I made a similar call to Frank, to clarify on a conversation we had had weeks before, as well as to head off anything Jay might say to him. (What I did not know was that Jay had already talked to Frank, and Frank had already spent this month's rent money on another apartment. More on this later?)
All that decided, I went out with my pal Lex (not Lexi) after the show (we stayed late to see Eric's group) and then I had my first steak in a long while and a pint of Guiness, which I rarely drink because it is usually pricy, at least it is in Pennsylvania, comparatively. And we joined some friends of his at another bar, a shitty copy of Coyote Ugly. I didn't like the place, trashy waitresses, the steroid musclefucks at the door, or the ease with which people touched each other.
That night, I was lonely as usual, and I came to realize how very different socialization is in New York from other places. Because of travel time, people just make arrangements to meet each other and do things together. In that way, everything is very formal. It's hard to get people to come to your place, and when you do, it seems to be formal as well.
No just getting together to watch TV or play board games. You pretty much have to make invitations. Or, e-vites, as we call them in the future.
So, I vacillated again. But, talking to Lexi, I understood that that was the trade-off I am making. A shot at possible success vs. assured friendship. One is good for me now, one is good for my future. Look, my college years are over. They were over by the time I actually had a decent group of college friends. As much as I might yearn to be back in that shitty Bates St. hovel, handing beer to underaged drinkers, I just can't. That time is over. In a year, a lot of people are going to disperse anyway, so why not end it for myself now?
Nothing stays the same forever, and I just needed to come to the realization that my time was up. In a little over a year, I will be married to Lexi, I will have fun with my friends, and I will have a happy home life.
If I am with Lexi, I will be happy. With her, I can do anything.
I miss my friends so much. It's killing me. I physically hurt from longing.
But this is what I am going to have to do.
Hopefully I can actually make something of myself.
Damnit, writing this is making me doubt again. I fucking hate this so much.
Why does life have to be so hard? Not just for me, but for all of us? This is is totally season 6, y'all!!!!!!!!!!!