The Love of Pain. in Musings

You ever have that nagging voice in your head.
It tells you to do it, but you know you’re going to be disappointed either way. If it’s the news you want it doesn’t really make you happy, if it’s not the news you want it has the power to make you really spiral out of control into a very sick state.

The last time I saw Alex was at the hospital when I was in that car crash with Luiz. But that is a lie. I’ve made my own prison, which at some extent, I have probably psychologically damaged myself for any future love prospects. Every time I hold a foil in my hand and catch a glimmer of my wedding bands I always tingle and I allow myself to see him again. When we were happy. When I was madly, deeply in love. The bands just remind me of that time when everything was beautiful.

That nagging voice in my mind just kept telling me to stalk him. Look for his facebook, instagram, and social media accounts. I knew I wouldn’t be happy if I saw him alone. I also knew I would be devastated if I saw him with someone else.

After meeting the bottom of a bottle of Tanqueray, I stumbled to my laptop and did just that. Who is that guy he’s hugging in his profile photo? Why is there a picture of the Eiffel Tower his cover photo? (You know the one I took of him the last time I ended up in Paris).

Then the voice grew. Exponentially. Does he think of me? Has he deleted me from his life? And through the blur of my drunken thoughts I scroll to see what sent me into a spiral of devastation. “In a relationship with Chris”.

I can only assume Chris is the guy in the photo with him. I click his name leading me to his page. “In a relationship with Alex”.

The first picture that is visible is them laying down in the grass. I felt like I wanted to vomit. I didn’t think it would hurt so much. I didn’t think I’d still feel anything for the guy that physically abused me and I’ve held so much contempt against.

I continue scrolling through Chris’ facebook—leading me to his instagram. There it was again… pictures of there hands together. Alex no longer wears our wedding ring. I look through his friends, trying to see if we have any mutual friends. I look through “pictures posted by others” to see if Chris just photographs really well or if he just knows how to photo shop and screen out the bad pictures of himself.

The only thing Chris and I have in common is that we both have an interest in EliteDaily and have read 2666 by Roberto Bolano. And the obvious—that we have both fucked the same man.

I felt completely sick to my stomach. I couldn’t process anything in my mind. All I wanted to do was get dressed and walk outside. Test to see if I as still attractive to men.

Luiz has been a distraction, I’ve not learned to heal because I continue to run into other relationships for validation. I pulled on a white-cable-knit sweater, I pulled on my beige slim chino’s, I pushed my drunken feet into my brown suede boots and I shoved my arms through a brown, leather moto-jacket. Brushed my hair. Brushed my teeth and splashed on a butt-load of parfum. So much that I became nauseated by the lingering scent of vanilla and tobacco notes.

I really haven’t been out much. I’ve just given up that part of my life because I’ve just been too depressed and disinterested in anything other than being home and working.

The bitter cold air burned my face as I whistled for a yellow-cab. I didn’t know where I was going, but I was sure I needed to find someone to do. I finally just randomly called a friend and he was at a fashion event in midtown (my old neighborhood, before I became a divorcee).

I looked around the room and I remembered that old feeling of being stood-up by Alex at all of these events. Dinner for 1 at restaurants. Was he cheating on me? Was Chris there when I was being stood up? How did they meet? When? Why does he have that picture up that I took of him?

And as all of my unluckiest moments are, as I try to runaway from the problems…I’m only run smack into the middle of them. Of course ALL of the gay men in New York are here. Of course I completely forgot that it’s Men’s Fashion in New York.

I grab a glass of champagne and chug it, I down half of another glass and hold it. Of course it would be my very, god damned luck that at the table there is a sleuth of men who eyeball me from head to toe. I hear their snickering over the music “Is that Andy?” and I drunkenly snarl and look at them and say “Yes, bitches, it’s Andres. You want an autograph?”

As I kiss my friend hello, I see from the corner of my eye a guy who is really being the typical queeny gay fag. I was too drunk to actually put his face in my memory bank, and I extended my hand to greet him and as he stood up grabbed my hand said “I’m Chris” and it sent tingles down my spine and made my stomach turn.

I quickly excused myself to the bathroom and threw up about 1 liter of gin and the sparkling champagne. I texted Luiz who came after my 30 minute stint in the bathroom. My friend felt super concerned about me, especially since I rarely throw up.

Luiz held my hand and wrapped himself around me. I sat back down. I could feel the eyes of all of them watching me. The nagging voice in my head making me hallucinate “ugh typical Andy, drunk and coked out” “Didn’t he wear that Gucci sweater last year?” “I’m sure with that divorce money he can afford those Valentino’s on his feet” “He use to be so pretty, now he’s like a walking stick” “Do you think he’s had work done?” “Girl, I heard he’s microwave safe—like tupperware”

I came to my senses and realized Luiz had been talking to me. About his day. About how this party isn’t his style.

Chris was off in the corner talking to my friend, and laughing. I felt jealous. I felt like he was a very, cheap, version of me. He looks like he’s all together. I wonder if Alex beats the shit out of him too.

I didn’t know why I was there anymore. I wasn’t the same person. I aged out of this type of event. I’m no longer a house-wife spending my husband’s money.

Looking over the skyline of the city. I felt so…so sad, and desperate. Luiz stood behind me and pressed his chin on my shoulder… “I’d give a million bucks to know what goes on in that pretty little mind of yours” he whispered and he inhaled my hair and kissed the back of my head.

No crying. No emotions. My friend comes over and tells me softly that Alex had just come…

and again I felt like the world collapsed and burned in front of me. He walked straight to Chris. I remembered how I felt when he hugged me—it was like I was the only boy in the room and he made everyone disappear. I remember his forehead kisses because he felt weird kissing on the lips in public. And as I watched and recoiled into Luiz’s chest, Luiz pressed his beard on my face. I felt like my heart was dying. Like I never existed. Like he never happened in my life. As if our wedding day and our big stupid expensive party was just a dream that I barely remember anymore.

I can not deny that I miss Alex. Not because I see him with someone else, I’ve always missed him. After the first time he disappeared and his eyes went blank. I missed him. That guy that was so charming and goofy, slipping in puddles and having food fights with. I miss him and I never got to say good bye to that guy, I was left with the vessel that he is now and the inhabitant of that vessel was not my husband, boyfriend, lover, fiance or best friend.

Wrapping my arms around Luiz, I did what I had to do. I ripped those rings off of my finger, shoved them in my pants pocket and prayed that I would lose them and never see them again.

And as I walked to the exit, I held my head high, waved at my friend to signal my leaving and before I turn my head forward, Alex glimpses over at me and catches my eye, I smirked and winked. He starts to move forward but catches Luiz putting my hand in his pocket. I hear his voice say my name “Andy?!” I take a deep breath and look over at the group. Chris looked confused and I just waved. “Is that? That’s why you’re here?!” Luiz said sighing. “No, I just needed to go out Lou, I’m leaving because he’s here” I said putting my arm around his waist.

We walked down my old block. To my favorite noodle shop.

An unknown number called me 3 times.
And then a text message that was 5 pages long that is summed up into.

“I’m a piece of shit for making you suffer. But holy fuck you still make my heart skip”
I guess that’s all that I needed. The validation from the one man who destroyed me.

It’s been about 5 days since then.

I’m not sure if I’m entertaining him because I feel jealous of Chris. Or if I’m entertaining a conversation because I have some hope that we will be happy again one day. Maybe I just love to be hurt. I put my rings and all the priceless trinkets from our love in a safe, where I have to walk to and ask to see them to relive the pain of our memories.

-Andy