the shenanigans of the Ex in Musings

Why don’t you do right? Like some other men do?

Happy fucking New Year Alex. Of course you’re dirty ass, cheap imitation of me, would spot me out in the crowd and at 12:42 AM, he approaches me and says something snarky, wearing his cheap ASOS, H&M clothing and of course I smirk at his drunken words and dismiss him…and then I feel him shoving me and cornering me, threatening me to stay away from you.. I shoved him right back and said “honey, I have all of his money, the only thing that is of value from him” and his trashy, nasty, Dominican hands started hitting me—that is when I threw my Givenchy clutch and gave no cares to the wind about my expensive looking shirt that I got when I was in Paris and I attacked him.

Fuck all of this expensive shit I’m wearing. Fuck all of your perceptions of me as a very passive person. He swung at me and the guy I was with caught his hands and I went fucking ballistic on him. I remember blacking out and being on top of him and him pulling on my hair and I kept hitting his face and he kept hitting my throat… Alex ripped me away from him and Luiz pulled him away and Luiz kept screaming “Bro! Calm down! Stop fucking with him Bro!”

I tasted the iron of blood from my lips and as Alex held my arms behind me I spit on this Dominican kid that he’s been seeing and speckles of blood flew on his shitty beige shirt. “You fucking cheap piece of fucking trash, fighting me over a nigga I already had! You’re fucking worthless!” and I ripped myself out of Alex’s grip. “You have everyone looking at you like a cheap, section 8, welfare version of me! you’re a fucking dub! You’re a bum!” and it riled him up. “You think he loves you?! He fucked me 2 weeks ago with a condom on because you’re a fucking STD infested piece of trash!” I yelled.

I ripped out of Alex’s grip and grabbed my clutch, Luiz trailed behind me as I walked to the bathroom as that boy screamed “You’re a washed up faggot!” and screaming “You fucking botox dumb bitch, you’re an old faggot and you’re not worth shit!”he said as Luiz grabbed my clutch and held me firmly by my waist.
I turned around and said “the next time you suck his fucking dick, remember I fucking rode him like a horse and you’re tasting my ‘old faggoty, worthless butthole’ cause he didn’t seem to think I was worthless” Luiz kept pushing his fingers into me and leading me toward the restroom. I saw three bouncers grabbing this little kid and escorting him out.

I went into the bathroom and I just looked at myself… my lip was cut open, my hair was dishevelled, my knuckles were cut because I kept hitting his mouth, cutting my knuckles open with his teeth. And I looked at myself in the mirror and said in my old hoodrat voice “Bitch, you’re 31, you own a business, niggas like that are so beneath you, you don’t even bother with ghetto trash” I said to myself as I dug in my clutch “but he hit you first, what the fuck were you suppose to do? Call security?!” I said angrily finding my vial of cocaine.

I rearranged myself, fixed my hair, primped my shirt, put my envelope clutch underneath my armpit. “Why the fuck did you do that? You’re so trashy! How can you go out to face the rest of your friends, knowing you literally thrashed that little kid’s face!”

I scooped out a small bump with a straw and inhaled. I felt angry but I didn’t feel embarrassed. “WHO the FUCK was that kid?! and why have you let him inside of your mind?!” I said as I scooped another small bump and inhaled.

When I walked out of the bathroom, Alex stood there with his arms crossed. I pushed my clutch deeper into my armpit and he reached for my clutch, ripping it out of my arms. “Why the fuck are you fighting like a teenager? Like we’re in Harlem!” he said as he pulled my leather envelope, holding it down by his thighs. “OH?” I smirked as I reached for my bag. “I’m the fucking villain when I didn’t even acknowledge you and then he swings on me?!” I said as I walked away. “Why did you have to tell him anything about us?!” he sneered pulling my arm. “You’re fucking ashamed that I told him we fucked and I told you to use a condom, I’m on PREP, I don’t want any of your fucking slut ass STI’s on me?” I said shoving him off of me. “I didn’t do shit to that little kid, I’m 31, I was fucking there when you went through college! I was fucking there getting my ass kicked by you, somehow I managed to own a business, somehow I managed to leave you because you’re a fucking turd and will always be a fucking turd! A low-down dirty piece of shit, the gum on my shoe, the snot in my napkin” I said as I tried to walk away. “FUCK YOU! You gold-digging leech, you’re still wearing my fucking ring like nothing happened!” he yelled “I’m fucking sorry I’m crazy and I’m bi-polar but you’re fucking crazy too, if you wear the ring your ex-husband got you on your fucking finger and think nothing happened!” he said as he stood infront of me.

I looked at my hand and pulled off the ring off of my finger “If this is why you think I’m a gold-digger—fucking eat it. If you think for one second I ever wanted your trust-fund, old money inheritance you’re a fucking idiot” I said as I handed the ring to him and made my other hand close his hand “I wear that stupid, gaudy, overly-hyped ring because I fucking loved you and love you” I felt my eyes water and my nose flare “If you think for one second that I married you, dated you, loved you because I could get money off of you, you’re an even worst animal, than just the fucking bruises, loneliness, hopefulness, that I thought” as I continued my way to my table. Victor grabbed my hand as Alex wrapped his arm around my waist. Victor pushed him away and asked me if I was ok? and I replied “Yeah, I’m good. Where’s Luiz?” I raised my eyebrow and looked at Alex’s face and he looked like I stabbed him a million times when Victor said “Oh Honey… he’s been gone” and my eyes darted through the club.

Maybe it was my stupid weak heart that broke me down. “Why Luiz, Andy?” Alex said as tears streamed down his eyes. I can’t see him cry…and sometimes it scares me because I think ‘maybe I have some sort of Stockholm syndrome’ and I replied honestly to him— because he reminds me of you when we were happy… Alex scowled and I shook my head side to side and he said “this is yours, I loved you then as much as I can’t erase you out of my head now!” he pulled my hand into his stomach “I know I fucked up! But I see you on instagram, snapchat, facebook, twitter and you always have it on and I feel like I have a 14th or 100th chance” he said as he slid the ring onto my finger. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry!”he said as he held my hand and tears ripped down his face.

And as he broke down infront of me, I pulled my hand out of his… and I hugged him. “You’re right, you have an unlimited amount of chances with me, but I’m not God I don’t hand out your forgiveness but I’ve forgiven you, but can you forgive yourself Alexander?” I said as I wrapped my arms around him. He started to sob in the crevice of my neck and shoulder.

As I rubbed his back, he ripped away from me, angrily and aggressively to wipe his tears off. He cleared his throught and clearly said “You will never know how beautiful, and special you are to people Andy” he said holding my chin to his face “You’re like an angel or something” he said as he wrapped his arms around me.

“Yeah!” I giggled. “I’m beautiful. I’m special. I’m a fucking angel. Whatever the fuck that means!” I said laughing.

I said ‘good-bye to Victor and all of my friends.

I was in Midtown and my apartment is downtown. Alex now lived in mid-town east. And I stayed with him.

Like I said maybe my heart is weak. Maybe I have Stockholm syndrome. Maybe I just believe that it’s not just a second chance, its a third, a fourth---- a millionth… but he sure knows now my fucking worth.

I walked in the lobby of his building. My little Saint Laurent boots clicked on the marble floors. I could see his face in the mirrored corridor and he just stares at me, watches me as some kind of beautiful that I don’t really understand. Or maybe I do understand ‘cause I stare at people I admire, love, and worship just like the way that he watches me… There’s a little bit of happiness, there’s a little bit of envy, and there’s a little bit of sadness…but these emotions culminate the ingredients of the way he looks at me… he’s happy to be around me, he’s envious that I’m so oblivious to the fact that people are attracted to me in many ways… A straight girl likes me cause I tell her the blunt truth, a straight guy likes me cause I’m down for fun and have no interest in sucking his dick, a lesbian girl is drawn to me because I see her as a woman and not a guy; the way that people don’t see me as just a man, but as a woman. Gay guys like me because I don’t give a fuck about their social constructions and restrictions and I want fun and human connection and don’t bother if you like me or I like you. I am oblivious to these factors and YES I’m starting to see why I am beautiful and worthy. And there’s a little bit of sadness because he see’s that everything he loves about me and wants to contain and preserve is absolutely impossible because it’s dynamic and once you try to trap me— like any living thing, I wither, eventually fade and what was once phenomenal about me, which made your eyes glossy and showed you life, doesn’t exist within constraints. Once you trap a butterfly in a conservatory, yes it’s beautiful—but there’s a certain type of melancholy that strums your heart and you know it isn’t right, but you’re selfish and want that beauty for yourself, but also you know that you will never, ever harness it, only live to see the shadows of it’s beauty.

As he held my clutch and I drunkenly danced down the mirrored corridor of his building toward the elevator, he smirked and giggled at my twerks, my uncoordinated dance moves, the click of my boots, and the flick of my left hand, shining all of the diamonds he and his jewelrer and designer chose.

I pressed the elevator to pick us up and leaned on the wall as he toppled over me and said “can you hold this fucking weird purse thing envelope leather whatever shit!?” and I giggled and slid down the wall, grabbing my Givenchy envelope. “Babe! It’s not ‘leather whatever shit!’ its python! Many black snakes had to die for this! or maybe one big anaconda—can you dye snake skin?!” I said as he squatted infront of me. “Andy, how much money did I spend on this?” he said smirking. “You didn’t spend a god damn cent on this! You’re fucking alimony goes to a savings account! HOWEVER, I spent like $3000 of my hard earned hair money!” I said drunkenly “SHHHHHH! Don’t tell my mom! Actually, I just spent $20!” I said as the elevator ‘dinged’ and he pulled me up and held me.

The rest of this story is snippets of my drunken memory. I remember he held me and walked me into the elevator. I remember him grabbing the clutch and saying “Damn, 3K worth of a snake! This goes in my pockey” and he laughed, shoving my bag down the waist of his pants and then he said “what else you spending my hard earned money on? What about this jacket?” I remember getting so irritated at him because we never, ever speak about money or ever spoke about money. When we were married he could buy a $2-3K camera on our joint credit card and I paid for half of it and he paid for half of it at the end of the month.

“This trench coat Alex?” I said as he pulled me into him. “It’s fucking expensive! You married, and divorced an expensive, work hard for the money type of guy!” “Oh really?” he said as he inspected the material on my trench coat. “So that’s what I married?” and I became so angry. “Yes…” I said sternly… “What is this— like wool?” he said mockingly. And it set me off. “It’s fucking Cashmere, it was a ridiculous 3K at Bergdorf’s and I loved it but I didn’t want to pay that obscene amount of money” I said as I ripped myself off of him. “But you know what happened? YOU fucking went off and bought it and gave it to me as a random present when YOU kept standing me up every fucking time I had to eat alone at a table for two!” I said and I felt myself snarl. “AND YOU Don’t even REMEMBER that you bought it for me as an “I’m Sorry” present, and clearly NOW you think I’m some sort of gold-digging whore, which the FUCK I’M NOT—because I probably make more money than YOU as a fucking whatever you are at your little boutique finance company, before YOU left your fancy-dancy corporate conglomorate whatever the fuck business terms are where I-ME- was just your dirty little secret and YOU always told everyone you were straight and those douche-bags tried to hook you up with some dirty fucking skank!” The elevator dinged and I remember crying so much and he was so lost. “Babe, I’m sorry” he said as he held me in the corridor by his apartment. “Fuck you Alex. I was a good boy!” I hiccupped into his shoulder “I was a good fucking guy! I was a bitch! I cooked, I cleaned, I owned a business, I always tried to look nice! You’re fucking suits were always dry cleaned and your shirts were always hand-washed— even when I was fucking exhausted, even when I’d come home to just my dog and cry because I ate at a table for two! And YOU FUCKING would come home DRUNK OR HIGH OR WHATEVER THE FUCK and YOU would literally beat the fuck out of me, because I was some sort of nasty skank fucking everyone!” and I just couldn’t contain myself. “I hate that I loved you more than myself, do you remember those times you inconsiderate piece of shit?!” I said as he guided me to his apartment. He opened his door, lightly pushed me inside. “You’re a fucking monster!” I growled as he pulled of his jacket dropping it on the floor and continued to look at me in the face, wiping my tears on his sleeve. “I fucking hate this jacket, I only wear it cause you gave it to me” I said as he sucked in his lips, “I hate this fucking ring! It’s so gaudy and begs for attention” I said as he pulled off my jacket.

He swiped his thumb over my cheek, drying my tears, and unpursed his lips. “I don’t know what else to say, but that I am so sorry” he said as he kneeled down. “Damn! Why didn’t you tell me before?!” he said as he hugged my hips. “You tell me this shit, but I’ll tell you mine bro!” he said teary eyed. “You picking up and leaving going to New Orleans!” he said as he stood up and his nose flared, “THAT FUCKING SUCKED! Where the fuck were you? I couldn’t even trace you through credit cards or bank cards! WHY? ‘Cause you had a secret bank account that I NEVER KNEW OF!!!!!!” he said as he walked away and punched the counter so hard the room shook “So I’m here stressed the fuck out because work and school is crazy and I’m jerking off silently, ‘cause I fucking miss you and I need to release, to you calling me from a private number?” he said as his lips quivered “So tell me! Tell me my angel! You’re saying you worship the ground I step on, but I can’t breathe without you!” he said as he started crying “You saying you kiss the soles of my fucking feet; how about loving you so much and being so fucked up, so stressed out, I can’t function any other way but violent!” he said as he wrapped his arms around me, picking me up and throwing me on his bed “What the hell was in New Orleans? Huh? Why Miami? Why are you crying in Miami? Why?” he said laying on top of me shouting. “What was it bro!?” he said pushing my hair off my face “my dick isn’t big enough? I’m too young? I’m not good enough? I’m too messy? I’m too butch? Maybe, I’m too affectionate, maybe your mom hates me, maybe you can’t deal with me being bisexual but loving you, maybe it’s that time I put myself in a psychward, maybe my mom said something… WHAT? WHY? New Orleans Andy? Without telling me shit, you could’ve had a gang bang or maybe you just wanted to get away, but am I not your best friend? You tell me all the time you worship the ground I walk on, you put me on some sort of saintly pedestal… but you just up and leave me bro?” he said as he pulled off my shoes, socks and pants off. “Am I fat? Did that girl over the summer that I dated eons ago say some shit to you?” he said as he rubbed his eyes to stop his tears “You slept with my bestfriend from college! The guy I never expected you to ever like, cause he toyed with you, tried to make me co-sign with him to gangbang you. You fucking hated him!” he said as he furrowed his brows “Were you fucking him and me during our marriage—cause he was my best man!” Alex said as he ripped off his shirt. “I get you babe, you don’t like to say a lot but I fell inlove with you, ‘cause I say too much” he said as I stared into his ceiling “And I don’t care, you’re my bestest friend—you have to say something to me; no one else, just me!” he said pulling my face to his forehead to forehead.

and he’s right in his honesty. Our failure was a lack of self-realization, self-worth and a complete lack of open, honest communicaton. I went to New Orleans on my own. I wanted to be away…but I didn’t want to be in Europe… but I chose New Orleans because like I told him I needed a break from New York, from him, and also try to make sure that I didn’t make a mistake. The worst thing for me isn’t monogamy— it’s the label, entrapment and responsibility of monogamy… and I was utterly loyal to him in New Orleans. I didn’t find the guy that I dated centuries ago… I had no interest in anyone but Alexander and it just reaffirmed in my soul that I don’t need anyone else but Alex; but I never told him that and I see why he would feel crazy.

After both of us crying and expressing ourselves bluntly, honestly and truly… I can’t forget how he brutalized me physically, and he will never forgive himself for his actions. I can not deny what I’ve been oppressing within me—which is that I do worship the ground he walks on, I cling on to every one of his words but the difference is that I know that he feels like he can’t breathe without me and my actions hurt him far beyond words.... we love differently, he doesn’t remember that he bought me a coat as an I’m sorry but he does remember that he would shower me with flowers at work and I’d be embarrassed but I felt unloved and I just wanted attention, a private moment, 15 seconds of his time. But that’s the discrepancy, I love based on intimate moments, he loves based on material things. He felt unloved and shitty because I felt embarrassed at such public displays of atonement and I felt unloved and shitty because I felt he would try to buy me. Fuck it’s so complicated.

After we talked and cried and it was 6 AM… he pulled off his underwear and pressed me against him…he kissed my nose, put his hands underneath my underwear and he giggled and said “He misses that booty” and I laughed and kissed him. “Mon tresor this means I get the booty now?” he said as he laid on top of me. “Shut up!” I giggled as he kissed my neck and penetrated me, slowly and firmly. And it’s something so weird when that happened, when he said “Babe, this is home” and I caught goosebumps and shivers as he thrusted, thinking of his words....

Yeah, for some strange reason, I can’t stop loving him and I only chase permutations of him. His jock-boy-hipster-white-boy-French-ivy league-soccer playing swag…I can’t explain why I adore him… I can’t explain why being with other guys before him and after him that his kisses feel right. I can’t explain that the things I hate—like cleaning up after him, hand-washing his shirts, tying his ties, picking out his cufflinks, sleeping in air-conditioning in the winter— I don’t hate, I kind of yearn and I feel a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment waking up to him drooling on his pillow, always with his arm laying on my waist.

Sometimes I think maybe it’s because I’m dickmatized. But then I realize he’s just a beautiful soul. It’s beyond his genitals. I feel like magic when he loves me in all the ways he shows me love. I don’t know how to explain it, maybe in English there are no words… or even in Spanish there are no words…
It’s like a weird, toxic obsession I have with him. Maybe not toxic, but it’s so strange for me to adore him… I literally would kiss the ground he walks on and although he doesn’t believe that— I just don’t know how to express what is in my soul for him…

I’m crazy about things that he doesn’t even notice… I’m crazy about his hands; how manicured, coarse and soft at the same time they feel on my face, when he holds my face to kiss me. I am insane about his sideburns… how he might be 4 months in and needs a haircut but his sideburns are always even and low… I’m so bat shit crazy when he comes out of his shower holding his towel around his waist and seeing his knees down to his ankles, he walks on his heels. I love the way that he walks…I don’t know how to describe how he walks…but he walks differently in tennis shoes and dress shoes, in dress shoes he walks so sexy—I don’t know like he owns the street, like he has a purpose and he needs to go where he needs to be. I love the way he bites his lip when I’m drunk and he’s whiskey drunk and he knows what is going to happen, so he prolongs it, takes a shower, brushes his teeth and I’m barely awake. I feel him inhale deeply and he wraps his legs around me. I’m desperately inlove with him, he does so many things that make me feel like I am, I exist, I am wanted, I am loved.

Even more crazy I love the way he always kisses my right shoulder and puts his left arm under me as he fucks me, always slowly, deeply and intently. I love hearing him grunt and moan.

I love how his abs clench as he moves inwards into me. There’s a sleuth of other things I’m obsessed about him besides sexual things—like how he ties his shoelaces or puts ice in his black coffee.

I don’t know.... maybe this is a New Year and he’s never going to hit me again and all we needed was space and open dialogue.

I’m not lonely. Or insecure. I know my fucking worth. His dick might be pretty large, but me being dickmatized is not a factor.

I like the way he listens to me. I like that he knows how to make me laugh. That’s all I know.

xoxo andy