Getting To Know You

So my brother Michael came home from prison last week. We are in the Getting To Know You phase in our relationship since we basically just met. This has been more difficult than I imagined. Firstly, his release was a surprise. I mean I knew he was being released, but coming home to find his shit in front of my front door was not how I expected to find out. His stuff in my house is making my ocd go haywire. I had to usher him out of my house this morning just so i could clean around his stuff. I'm becoming rather anxious. In addition, I wanted to tell my sibs that Michael was in my life. After repeated attempts, it is clear my brother is avoiding me for some reason and I haven't spoken to my sister yet. So I go it alone. Michael and I look so much alike, but the similarities end there. Here are a few golden nuggets just from 7 days of him being in my life.

Golden Nugget #1 
I work in law enforcement.  
Michael: what's your job like?
Me: what does that mean? Michael what Is my job?
Michael: I know what you are, but what is your job?                                  
Me: Michael you have been to court before you know what my job is.
Michael : . . . Wow dig.

Golden Nugget #2
Choking on his laughter he tells me the most brutally inappropriate stories about illegal activity you can imagine. Considering my job and temperment, none of this shit is amusing. He said his uncle let him hold a gun at 14. I asked if he fired it and he said not yet.
Me: yet?
Michael: maybe one day I can get a license and go target shooting.
Me: Michael with your long list of felonies, I don't think your right to bear arms will ever be restored. 
         
Golden Nugget #3
I took him to the movies. The girl taking tickets was cute from what I saw from behind. And young very very young. Michael set his eyes on her. Despite my plea that the girl was maybe 22, when we sat down he asked for my pen so he can get her #. When the movie was over, I see the girl working and I said there she goes ask her for her #. I'll be outside. He comes out after a few minutes. 
Me: Did you get her #?
Michael: no I gave her yours. 
Me:WHY IN THE HELL WOULD YOU GIVE HER MY #?
Michael: what # was I supposed to give her?
Me: you were supposed to get her #
Michael: are you mad?
Me: it doesn't matter.

Golden Nugget #4
I'm a flirt. I harmlessly flirt with old people of both genders, young people, gay boys. . . Oh do I love my gay boys. Anyone I speak to, I will flirt with them.
This tiny itty bitty twink is standing behind me on the subway platform trying to see what train it is. He was so cute and tiny, I could fit him in my pocket. I told him what train it was. He asked me for directions and I flirtatiously gave it to him and I watched him nervously get on the train

And I smiled at him as he sat down. He smiled back. Enter Michael. 
Michael: you want his #?
Me: (jokingly) I would love it.
Michael attempts to storm the train and demand this lil ass gay boy give me his #. I grabbed his arm before he made it to the door.
Me: what the fuck are you doing? 
Michael: I'm getting his #. He's smiling at you and you are smiling at him so . . .
Me: Michael he's gay I don't want his #.
Michael: he might go both ways and he was smiling at you. I know how men think.
Me: Michael it's called being nice. I don't want to fucking date him. I don't need your help to get numbers. 
And then he pouted for a full ten minutes. It's like Tarzan and Jane with him. This road to getting to know him sure is bumpy. Sigh!

90 in 90

I went to AA.  Not to admit I’m an alcoholic, but to support my bestie as she huddles in The Rooms and reads The Book and completes The Steps.  It’s all very organized, and they even serve you coffee (water or soda for .50).  I’ll admit it was a comfortable space, much like a living room, if your grandmother decorated with AA Sayings and AA brochures (Support for those who love an alcoholic; AA for Beginners).   Even the clock was inspirational.  In giant gold lettering the face read “One Day At A Time.” Get it? Time?  Hilarious.  The meeting was fine, everyone was nice, I beat it out of there as soon as the clock struck 11:30. 

I was starting the day on empty having spent the night before SOBER and hiding all of my booze.  This would include my extensive wine collection and a whole other collection of cooking wine.  I didn’t resent doing this so much as my apartment is small and open real estate is at a premium, making it a true challenge to find hiding places.  I felt strange and out of place as I welcomed her late Friday night.  Usually we’d have been halfway to the bar before she even took her pillow out of the car.  It isn’t that our relationship is consumed by alcohol, more like we both enjoy drinking, sometimes too much, and have spent many a crazy night working on a killer hangover over the past decade and a half.  I just didn’t know how to act.  I’m a bit of an acquired taste and with her overblown sensitivity no longer dulled by the drink, I was trying hard not to slap her silly with sarcasm and cynical wit.  She had already complained about something I said ‘harshly’ while giving her directions (I still have no idea what I said besides ‘look for exit 20A’). 

I moved through the weekend like a ghost of myself.  I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that there was a point where I considered, just for a moment, how I could retire early and enjoy a carefully selected vintage in the comfort of my bedroom, where all the booze was hiding.  I’m a naturally anxious individual coupled with the characteristics of a Type A over-achiever.  Deadly combo when faced with a challenge such as this.  I was simultaneously engaged in an epic battle of MOST FUN SOBER WEEKEND EVER and Don’t Say Anything to Trigger a Bad/Stressful/Traumatic Memory.  Epic Fail #1 came as I was washing dishes, chatting with her about AA (duh), her sponsor, and a guy that comes to meetings every week after a bender and says ‘three days clean’.  She looked over at the wall and saw my kitchen calendar, from my liquor store. Literally, it has the logo of my liquor store, complete with monthly recipes for tantalizing cocktails.  She began to read April – Melon Ball. Shit. We laughed it off and I made a mental note that it’s completely unnecessary to advertise my vices (for years I hung a High Times calendar).

Epic Fail #2.  There was a moment of pure panic.  We sat down to eat at a food court and my OCD was on over drive.  We were hanging out at one of those dirty indoor flea markets where everything is sold in troughs.  Just breathing the air made me feel like I needed a long, hot shower.  It wasn’t enough to wash my hands before eating a pretzel.  I needed to douse my hands in sanitizer the minute I walked out of the bathroom in order to feel even 2% clean enough to eat.  I went around the table squeezing out sanitizer and after I gave her a shot she immediately recoiled and said ‘does this have alcohol in it?’ Um, yeah…..Her face contorted and she said it smelled really bad and she had to get it off her hands.  My mind was racing: Did I just break her sobriety? Was it my fault she just relapsed by absorbing alcohol laden hand sanitizer through her hands?  Did she have to start the count all over again? 

She ran to the bathroom and I had a mini panic attack.  I had been so careful and now I had made a very careless mistake.  Sobriety is a lot to fucking think about, plan for, execute, and maintain.  I was exhausted.  She told me everything was fine.  She didn’t realize she had gotten so sensitive to the smell of alcohol.  Again, we laughed it off and I know I am the only one holding myself to perfectionist expectations.  She smiles at me and says she’s just happy to hang out and spend time with me.  I feel exactly the same way.

As she drove back north Sunday afternoon, I was immensely proud of her dedication to the cause. She has been sober for 87 days. I’ll toast to that.                    

I Can Smell The Finish Line [or maybe that's just tequila]

EE called. She's emotional. She broke up with her long distance OKCupid gf. Her thoughts are running wild and she’s asking me how it’s possible for her to speak for hours to a new chick on OKCupid that she isn’t attracted to. This chick is quote "an ugly, white butch".  This poor soul apparently tolerated EE's bullshit for hours on end while EE unloaded God knows what on her.  She said the woman wants to go on a date with her even after she shared some horrific story with her.  I said go for it.  EE reiterated that the woman is "an ugly, white butch" and a date is out of the question.  Here we go again.  The only thing I can think is I better get into heaven for listening to this bullshit and heaven is clearly out of the question for EE.

EE asked if I could meet her at a bar. They have a great happy hour and she wants to talk. We met up a week later. 

This meet up was punctuated by many phone calls to Jess.  I just couldn't believe my ears or why I was meeting up with her.  EE starts off by telling me she enrolled in Comedy School. I didn't know there was such a dubious institution willing to fleece you of your money.  She started off with some new material she was working on. She promised me it was good. It involved a joke about Tiger Woods and being black hitting a white ball.  I swear to God this joke was 12 minutes long. In the middle of the joke, EE's brother shows up.  I'm confused.  She asks me if I liked the joke.  I said "not only was it too long, but it wasn't funny at all".  I then had to explain that Tiger Woods has been golfing for about twenty years.  It's not a timely joke.  She insisted she wanted to tap into black rage.  Right on sistah!

Now why is her brother here? I called Jess to give her an update and she informs me that I am a victim of a set up.  I have no idea what that is, but when I return he says to the both of us "so is this a date?"  EE jumped at the question.  She said "No, no, I mean she's beautiful and all but I'm a boi and she's a boi so that can't work."  Yeah.  I replied "Look, I'm a woman and your sister is a woman and when your sister gets around to liking women, she will be much happier.  With that in mind, I would never, ever date your sister."

   

EE then asks me for dating advice. She said she doesn't understand why she gets into these OKCupid exchanges with so many butches.  Forest meets the trees.  She then brought up the "ugly, white butch."

This is what ensued:

Me: I just don't get it. Why would you call her ugly btw?

EE: Here, look at her.

Me: What do you mean?

EE: [Shows me a pic of them on a date] See?

Me: Wait. You mean to tell me you went on a date with this woman, whom seems nice, even though you are not attracted to her, and consider her ugly? This woman thought she was going on a date.  Meanwhile you are mocking her to me. You are cruel and that's why you have your issues.

EE: [chuckle]

Me: You are not funny.  You are fucked up.

EE proceeded to get shitfaced on frozen margaritas. She broke about three glasses at the bar and it was embarrassing.  She then revealed that she feels like she might be homophobic. Duh. I agree. I told her to seek therapy. I was done. Her brother insisted that we take the train together so she made it home safely. On the train, she loudly and obnoxiously hit on every feminine girl on the train. It was sad. I can't help her. I then had to admit the OK Cupid Chronicles were long over and I was no longer gleaning anything from EE. What was going on here was fairly obvious to Jess, EE's brother, OK Cupid's lesbian section, CL's Missed Connections and myself. Just not EE.  This disaster is way above my pay grade. 

All Jokes Aside

EE had begun to call. She called me while I was at work. She knows what my career is and sitting down at a phone is not part of my job duties. Of course I didn't answer so she text me :"Hey call me back when you have time I need some grrl talk". What are we 13? I speak to my brother on the phone. Sometimes. I HATE talking on the phone. EE had begun to call because there was some crisis. She needed a distraction. Please help. I asked her if she wanted to go to a comedy show. Laughing would help. Apparently, EE and her OKCupid long distance gf were having problems. She needed advice. And typically, I also go to a perennial single person for advice so . . . .that's how i ended up on a Wednesday at Gotham Comedy Club waiting for EE. Judy Gold was performing. She is my favorite. And Michelle Balan and Jenny McNulty.  Basically EE could not ruin this night.

It became awkward instantaneously. She was on the phone arguing on the street and attempting to lash out at me. Bad move. I quickly put her in her place. As soon as we sat down in the club, she says "when the performances start, I'm going to sit next to you so I can see" MMMMM Kay. She loved the show. I had a blast. 5 minutes in, she decides that she too can be a comedian. Good luck with that. She tells me her issues with the OKCupid gf. It involves not enough attention, EE stalking her on Twitter, OKCupid and I'm sure Facebook, but I zoned out. I gave my standard communication advice. She explained the art of multitasking while on skype and why this is a relationship killer. 

EE is a really cheap date in that after her second pink and fruity drink, she was pretty much a bucket of shit. I don't think anything I said actually sunk in. She was clearly in a long distance relationship with someone who didn't want a relationship. She, EE, was clearly too needy for a relationship that is over ten miles in distance, hence breaking my dating credo "Know Thine Self". If you know yourself, then you will know, for example, whether you can handle dating someone long distance; whether you can handle dating a cop [I CAN]; or whether you can handle dating a stripper. Simple stuff. She said she read all of the books about long distance relationships. She was scheduling time to skype and check in and nothing was working. She doesn't get it. She's in love. I have nothing more to say.

We leave the club and EE wants yet another drink she can't handle. She was completely shitfaced as she told me some of her history, family and her mother's illness. She explained she had no direction and since her OKCupid gf was an attorney that meant she needed to go back to school, raise her credit score, buy a house with a white picket fence and have babies or something like that. I told her she should do what she wanted. She said she wanted to be on TV, act, write jokes and be famous. You Go Girl!!!

After this night out, I felt bad for EE. She seemed lonely AND alone. She was like a little kid with no one to cheer her on. Would it fucking kill me to talk to her? No, but her immature rants that are damn near close to homophobic had to stop. EE was in control of me being friends with her. Very soon after the comedy club, EE began to squeeze me like Lenny and the mouse. My affection was short lived.

Please judge this book by it's cover

After meeting EE, I thought nothing more about whether I would see her again because that is the usual OKCupid pattern. Meet someone, become BFF's in 5 minutes, and never see them again. Of course, I'm exaggerating here. EE didn't pique my interest at all. I didn't want to know her story. So imagine my shock when soon after we first met, EE invited me to her house for "Dinner, I'm a good cook, with a few studs, and we can share stories about girls." The very last thing I wanted to do in life was sit in a room full of misogynistic dykes talking about femmes.  My dietary restrictions are the best ‘get out of jail free card’, so I declined.  She said we could meet at a restaurant. I declined. She invited me to everything. I didn't really understand where she was coming from. At this point, EE had apparently met a chick and was in the throes of budding love. She sent me texts that were complete non-sequitors like, "My girl is awesome" and "I love my girl". After about 10 of these bizarre texts this was our text conversation:

Me: Who exactly are you talking to?

EE: You

Me (on the edge of my last ounce of patience): No you are not.  If you are speaking to me, speak to me. Don’t text me these weird texts that I would never respond to.

EE: Ok, I just wanted to invite you to a party in Harlem.  There will be food and girls.

I legitimately had other plans and happily declined. She finally caught me for gay pride. I agreed begrudgingly.

I don't know who EE was dating. I don't know if this broad actually existed, but she was always there like Patrick Swayze in Ghost. I met up with EE for Pride and she immediately told me she was my wing-man because she had a girl.  Every so often she would announce: "I'm just looking for you because I have a girl"; “Yo, I'm going to take a pic and send it to my girl"; "I wish my girl could be here."  This alleged girl was an attorney who lived in DC.  They had met on Cupid.   Fucking fabulous.  

EE was obsessed with what type of women I like. I pointed out this GORGEOUS chick standing with her gf a few feet away from us. The whole ‘who’s on first routine’ of what girl ensued – What girl? I don't see a girl. Who are you talking about? This went on for a full five minutes. I told her at some point she will have to evolve because the world is evolving around her and objectifying and insulting women is a lil outmoded. I clearly said this to the wind. When she finally zeroed in on the hot chick I was trying to nonchalantly point out to her she commented, “Oh, that tomboy? She's clearly like you cause her gf is a tomboy, too." Thanks for your insight EE.

I thought EE was pretty bad. A lesbian Neanderthal. Call me naive, but I have never met a lesbian so closed minded and superficial before in my life. I was not prepared for her heinous ass friend who immediately, seconds after meeting me, said she hates lesbian clubs in NY because some butch chased her around the club last night for an hour.  Some fat butch to be exact. This day was deteriorating fast. Of course, EE had to confess at this moment that she invited yet another chick from OKCupid to join this Island of Misfit Toys party. EE’s friend asked if this was a ‘date’?  EE replied, “She’s butch”.  EE’s friend said some butches are into sword fights. This exchange was giving EE even more anxiety about being seen with a butch. AT THE PRIDE PARADE.  (I hope the irony is sinking in).

When said butch showed up, Keisha, she was delightful and intelligent and not up for a sword fight. EE and her friend proceeded to call every girl at the parade fat and ugly and Keisha and I tried to ignore them until I said fuck it I'm done with this. As I began to extricate myself from this disaster, EE got wise. I told her I was going to meet a friend on West Third. EE asked if she and Keisha could tag along once we ditched the bitch she calls her friend. I met up with my friend and he joked that I was on a date with 2 girls. Chuckle Chuckle. We go and have drinks. Something I was in DIRE need of at that moment. Keisha and I sit next to each other and just let EE talk. She ran the whole gamut. She spoke about how women should look, act, should be in shape and when she started talking about her sexual prowess, I stopped listening and just talked to Keisha. When Keisha went to the bathroom, EE complained about her like a bratty lil sister crying for attention. Ugh. I'm trying to be really patient with this kid EE. I don't want to tell her to her face that she is a fucking moron and I never want to see her again. So I leave that night knowing that was it. So why, you ask, are there more EE stories I am still trying to forget?  Because Jess gets her rocks off listening to stories where I am in compromising and sometimes painful situations.  Sadist I tell ya. Jess wants me to write a chapter in the DSM-V about EE. I never want to see her again.  I don’t find out what EE wants until much later….. 

EE part uno

The OK cupid Chronicles are done. We had proved what we set out to prove. Some might see it as a self-fulfilling prophecy, but that is their want. All I know is, I have had it with women. As I was about to shut down my OK cupid profile AGAIN, I got a message from someone we will call EE. It's not a far stretch from her screen name, but believe me,  she deserves full credit here. 
EE sent me a msg that within seconds, was an invite to hang out. I wanted to see the movie Pariah and it came up in conversation, so that was the plan. I was not EE's type by any stretch of the imagination. The plan to hang out seemed as fucking harmless as possible. Of course I was wrong, which is a constant theme.

I meet EE at the designated place and upon meeting she tells me she invited some other chick. No problem with me. The other chick, whose name escapes me, was cute. Very cute. Good for EE. The movie was viewed and there is always the post-movie conclave of where to go next. I had to work in the am so my vote was home. The other chick and EE wanted to go out. No problem. I’m hopping on the L train; they can do whatever the fuck they want to do.  All of a sudden, EE changed her desire to hang out suddenly after she ascertained that we live within two stops of one another. Weird.

On the train, we talked and unnamed girl is smart, funny, attractive and somehow eluding the attention of EE, who is bizarrely focused on me. After we transferred trains, leaving unnamed girl to meet up with her sister, I knew I should preemptively nip this potential problem in the bud. We talked about OK Cupid. She told me about her use of it and I told her I’m just on there to meet new people.  Then, she described her type.  EE is apparently a one female article of clothing kind of dyke. A la the fifties. I told her I don't have a type. She then peppered me with questions about whether I would date a "butch" (her words).  I told her I like all things vagina and I would date who I am attracted to. She nearly had a stroke trying to comprehend how I could deviate from prehistoric gender norms. What I had just admitted was apparently gross to her.  She couldn’t understand a lesbian who doesn’t subscribe to binary gender roles.  At this point EE falls into the small category of not-my-type because of her mind set.
 
She wanted to hang again, which was fine with me, because I have too many open minded friends anyway.  Nothing wrong with hanging out with someone out of my comfort zone; I could learn something here. And Jesus fucking Christ did I. Wait for part two….

Semantics

Semantics is the fuel that fires every argument in human history. From buying the wrong milk to missing curfew, it all boils down to semantics. Nothing is ever trickier when it comes to relationships of the carnal kind then how you say something and not what you say.  I was once hanging out with a guy who said "You are the only one I'm dating right now". Holy Shit. How in the hell did I get here? I thought I was watching NBA playoffs with a dude and some of my friends. Now all of a sudden I'm dating him. What drastic left turn did I make?  I thought I said "Do you want to come to a bar and get drunk and watch basketball?" Somehow that was interpreted as ‘you are my boyfriend’. I must admit I noticed the sign earlier, but chose to ignore them.   I'm gay and more importantly I'm OUT. We were hanging out and I mused about how some chick was cute and he began to get pissy. I didn't really understand what could be misinterpreted. I'm a pretty blunt person. I have begun to realize that this is my downfall. Most people don't believe what I literally just said to them because they are not used to someone being so frank. I once told a guy in front of his sister there would never be a reason on earth that I would ever date her [post forth coming].  Later, she actually said to me, “I thought you liked me because you told my brother you wanted to date me." Semantics.

I often end up in the mire of semantics quicksand. So much so, I have begun to assess blame. It's me.  It has to be. I became fully aware that the impetus was on me when this happened: I used to go to Cattyshack in the Slope to watch The L Word on Sundays because copying the episodes from my international friends was becoming precarious [read: highly illegal]. When I say I went to the Shack to watch The L Word, I mean I arrived at the bar at 9:59pm and by 10:50pm my tab was paid and I was waiting for the R train.  I met this girl named Melissa there.  Given my in and out approach, it was fairly obvious I had no intentions upon hitting on anyone there, but Melissa persevered in her persistence to talk to me. We became friends. I always give the "I don't date disclaimer". Melissa said it was cool and we continued to hang out and meet up at the Shack to watch the show. It started to get weird when I met up with some friends at our favorite sports bar while I was with Melissa. Melissa went to the bathroom and my friend says "Hey, what's up with that girl? She thinks you are her gf".  I responded "Why in the hell would she think I'm her gf?"  To which my friend countered "You don't notice how she is around you?" I was oblivious to all of this because I paid Melissa no mind and I had given her the God Damn no dating disclaimer. Then it all started to come together.  Like the time in her car she told me her ex gf was Hispanic – her way of telling me she doesn't just date white girls. Hmmm, ok, so was mine. 

The situation culminated when she called me and asked me to meet her at the bar an ungodly hour early.  When I got there, I met a panicked Melissa, worrying that she had been late. I told her to relax and asked her what was up with this impromptu meeting. This is what she said "Well, I wanted to tell you that I'm thinking about doing a photography internship in Houston.” Quizzical looks by me for 15 seconds then, "That's great Melissa. Sounds awesome. When do you leave?"  Then . . . "Well, I leave in 3 weeks unless  . . . you know . . . you know don't you?" I'm trying to avoid landmines here. "Cool, we should hang out before you leave. I know what?" This is when she got really close to me and says "Well, I wouldn't go to Houston if you know…. you know I like you right?" That's when I lost my patience.  I said "Melissa no. You should go to Houston. It would be great for you and you know I do not do dating so that's not going to happen." And with a grasp of the very last straw she said, “Well, I just thought….."  Mmmmm, "No Melissa.”  Needless to say, The L Word was very awkward that night.