42 rang in pretty nicely. Mikey had offered to make a lasagna, but then he realized that he’d already promised Dusty he’d play at his bar that night. ‘Twas a blessing in disguise.
Tuesday was also Mariam’s (Miriam’s? Still not sure on the spelling) birthday so even less pressure for me.
On Sunday before, when Mikey came over, I asked him what I should wear. He said to dress hip. I don’t dress hip. I pulled a dress out of my closet. It’s my favorite summer dress. A beige, see-thru, floor-length, button up shirt dress that is covered in embroidery. I even borrowed my neighbor’s iron the night before.
But in the morning, my boobs had swelled and become gigantic. “These are not your tits,” I said into the mirror, a little disheartened. The perfect summer dress would have to wait. It wouldn’t button up.
I found a dress on the floor of my closet and a bra that would accommodate the boobage. Only I didn’t really check myself out in a full length mirror until it was too late to change. I’m not big on showing cleavage in general, but I was just gonna have to go out with jiggly PMSy tits on display.
It was honestly a great night. Mikey played, Caroline sang. I got to see Max be goofy, which always makes me laugh. I’ll never get over the Boston accent. It feels like a put on.
Ma/iriam had a lot of friends show up to the bar. I forgot to invite anyone and managed to text Jonathan while on the bus to Park Slope. He said to let him know what we were doing afterwards.
Nikola was a sweetheart and handled my autistic anxiety like a pro.
I got tipsy on the beer Max bought and Nikola hid under my voluminous dress. Josh showed up late on his bike. Mikey’s money men kept to themselves. I talked to them for a bit. Uninteresting, a bit snobbish. I left them to go back to talk to Nikola. Apologized for being clingy. He said he gets nervous around strangers too.
I’m still coming to terms with all the skills I lost over the past few months. My communication skills are shot. It’s hard for me to keep up with conversations. My memory is bad. I have these lapses that make no sense when I used to have near perfect recall.
Second stop for the night was Crown Inn. I saw Maddie. I’m sure she was sweating bullets but it’s not my job to make her feel comfortable. We talked. It didn’t feel weird to me. But I was also five beers in.
I gave legal advice to a guy whose name I always forget. I didn’t offer it. I got called in on a consult. Maddie tried to add her two cents because she thinks being related to lawyers somehow gives her insight into the intricacies of legal process service. It does not. But she always has to feel relevant. It’s what makes her exhausting.
Jonathan showed up. Another sweetheart. I introduced him to Mikey. They had friends in common. Mikey would later tell me he was impressed. A few people thought it was a date. It was most certainly not. We are just friends and I’m really glad because he’s super interesting to talk to about artistic identity. Because neither of us wants anything from the other, we can have these great conversations.
Andrea showed up straight from the airport (with a stop at home to drop her bags off) just as we were leaving for the stoop. I love that girl.
The stoop was the stoop but extra buzzy because of Ma/iriam’s birthday and Mikey’s music gig. I talked to Lee but got interrupted a couple of times so we never got to finish the conversation.
I would like to say I forgot about my boobs, but I couldn’t stop seeing them. They were uuuuuuge. Josh kept mentioning them. Not in a veiled way. In a way that suggested he hadn’t been breastfed as an infant. I guess I could have been annoyed but it wasn’t really annoying. As they are not my actual boobs, but a biannual phenomenon, I was mostly amused.
And, honestly, I don’t worry about Josh that way. He’s goofy. He’s clownish. It felt silly. He wasn’t being disrespectful. I think I’d have felt the same amount of attention if I’d brought a giant lollipop with me. It would have received comments as well. I should probably restate my “No sex with Crown Heights people” rule just for the record. I don’t need anyone getting weird ideas.
Especially Andrea. I don’t want her thinking I’m a role model and I especially don’t want her thinking I have any interest in the Middle Earth offerings of Crown Heights. I love all those boys but that is all they are. Boys. And, well, hobbitses.
J sent me a sweet, effusive text telling me all the things he loves about me. The Israeli sent me a text too, but that was just coincidence. His text was…well, far more X rated. The juxtaposition was comical. I showed them both to Andrea.
This dude Eamon would not leave us alone. And he only had typical white liberal millennial bullshit to interject. Things he’d heard and regurgitated whole cloth about Bernie being the savior and Lin-Manuel Miranda being the devil incarnate. In between brilliant thoughts, he shoveled coke into his numbed face. I finally told him how uninterested I was in his conversation and just ignored him.
Of course, Mikey, Andrea and I stayed out on the stoop until morning.
Wednesday was a night with J. He came over with a 30 pack of Genesee and a sound bar for the projector room (he has long term plans for the room). It’s a lot to carry up the stairs. He went to pour himself tequila and I told him that Mikey had probably drank most of it. “I’ll tell Mikey he owes you.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” He looks out for my friends when he doesn’t even know them. It’s a testament to the kind of person he is and how much he cares about me.
We spent the night eating Thai food, listening to Pere Ubu and trying to rediscover my orgasm. Another thing robbed by the terrible times. We were somewhat successful. And not for lack of enthusiasm.
The cool thing about J is that we can have these really deep conversations before, during and after the sexy times. It’s very comfortable. We just enjoy each other immensely. He slept over and we had morning sex. Morning sex with J holds a special place in my heart. It’s not dramatic. It’s completely sincere.
J is probably the second best co-sleeper I’ve had. The best was the 🦄. It’s easy to feel nostalgia for someone who doesn’t feel real anymore. He’d hold me through the night and into four alarms. But it was never real. For him I filled a role. On the other hand, J isn’t really capable of deceit. I could ask him anything and he wouldn’t flinch at telling me the truth. I don’t have the energy right now to parse out truth from lies. Another reason why I’ve shut people out these past few months.
Andrea’s birthday was on Thursday. I didn’t want to go. I felt exhausted and overwhelmed from all the sensory stuff on Tuesday/Wednesday. I’m not ready for Prime Time just yet. I need to recover from the past six months a bit more.
I’m glad I went though because the glow bracelets I got for Andrea to share with her guests were a hit. If it made her happy (she said it did) then I did my job. I was in bed by 1:30 a.m.
Last night I went out with Joyce in the city. She planned a whole night including tickets to fotografiska and tapas in the East Village.
Joyce is great. And because we’re close in age we talk about things in a different way. I need more grown up friends in NYC.
So that’s about it for my week.
I want to start writing again. I need to find a job. And I have to make long term goals. I got robbed of a lot and it’s going to be a rebuilding year. Nothing I can do about it. I need lots of stimuli. Museums, libraries, nights out with good conversation. Nights in with music and sex. A lot of rest, food and iron. I really loved the person I became. I want to love the person I will have become.
Next up is 4th of July and then Jon comes to visit.