Held at Cunt Point

          There are some friends that we can’t hang onto forever. And there are times in a relationship when no matter how far you go back, you may or may not realize that you’ve totally out grown one another and that’s ok. Just because you’ve known each other for 17 years doesn’t necessarily mean that you should know each other for the next 17! Sometimes it devolves slowly one degree at a time. You can find yourselves heading in completely different directions without even realizing it.  One day you turn to your childhood buddy and you don’t even recognize her anymore and more so yourself! It’s a gradual, undetected change that slips under the radar and comes as a shock to the emotional system after years of blindly not paying attention and seeing the signs. Sometimes that slow divide of change unknowingly creeps along so steadily until one day......Oops.....your Pangaea no longer exists! There can also come a time when you may stop growing as friends and that’s a slippery slope to an eminent breakup. You can never stop trying to impress your lovers and friends just because you’re so comfortable with them that you have fallen into some kind of stale routine. The shelf life of any relationship is only as good as the effort you both put into it. There’s no falling asleep at the wheel people...no healthy cruse control. Things may seem normal, but what do you have really if you only play it safe, never muddying-up the waters occasionally for the betterment of both parties?

         I’m not married, nor could I be legally in the state of New York, but I’ll be damned if I don’t try my best to apply this concept to my future boyfriend, man friend, or gusband (gay-husband). You don’t want the connection to harden and become an after thought after you’ve made an investment even beyond a couple of weeks....much less years! I feel like I’ve “arrived” with a guy once we can ride in a car for hours and hours and find a comfortable silence. Not talking is so sexy when you find that juicy balance of quiet and conversation. It just flows if it’s right. Filling an uncomfortable silence is exhausting for two people on a nine hour car ride (or 45 minutes for that matter). Time has been known to stand still on extremely awkward dates. I’m afraid to look across the dinner table at my man years down the road and not know what to say to him. Spontaneity is vital to a couple trying to remain good friends. Every now and than you have to shake things up and try your best to keep things fresh and unexpected. I truly believe that even though I’m the only common denominator in all my failed relationships!

          We all know at least one couple that not only doesn’t compliment each other, but it seems as though they don’t even like each other anymore. There is no animosity but my parents seem to fall into the category of folks existing day in and day out under the same roof running parallel train tracks to one another, yet leading completely separate lives......apart. When I found out that my mom and dad no longer sleep in the same bed or room my heart sank in my chest in horrifying disappointment. And snoring wasn’t the issue to be clear.  I don’t want the intimacy and romance to sour with time like it seems to do. I want it to be the reverse! I’m not looking for someone to necessarily complete me. I just want to move forward with a guy without becoming stagnant and too comfortably numb. 

          I’m in a situation now where I’m forced to outgrow and let go of a toxic friendship with a girl that’s lasted literally more than half of my life. It wasn’t always bad of course, but the looming potential oil spill was there. It quietly hid beneath the surface of the sincerely scary party invites at gun point (with no option to say no), and the brittle facade of what was once one of my closest, best friendships. It saddens me to no end that our butterfly died before breaking free of its adolescent high school cocoon.  We had such potential and were quite the gay duo too. We were going to be two fabulous, late twenty-somethings marching hesitantly into our thirties and growing old together while embracing our adult city selves here in New York.  But all that’s changed with age. Instead of there being more understanding, it seems her fuse has actually grown shorter with time. There used to be some leniency for a cancellation or possible late arrival. Could a single train delay capsize what we’ve built for 17 years.....really? The answer to this trick question is unfortunately yes! Now an “I’m running late!” text reaps a hateful, venomous, attack of the highest, most bipolar order. Her response negates any effort I might make to care. Everything with this girl is taken personally. If anything spoils her concrete plans she flips out and unleashes a hidden demon that is nothing short of Sigourney Weaver in the Ghost Busters movie! I can’t be bothered by a full on flip out from a thirty year old woman, not in twenty-ten. Jesus Christ! I mean who’s got the time....Seriously? “Sorry I’m late” I text with fearful shaking thumbs.  I press the Send button with all the seriousness and anxiety of a president pushing the infamous nuclear bomb red button. The wrath of this dyke’s inner and outer serial killer takes my breath away at times. She will turn on you with the blink of an eye.  If I go missing or turn up dead in Riverside Park my closest friends, when questioned, could lead the cops directly to the primary suspect. “I would check the Cubbyhole in the West village officer...or maybe Crazy Nannies!”

(Look closely my friends at the "flower")

         I always thought knowing someone half of your life counted for something, like the occasional get out of jail free card once and a while. But it seems our dynamic is quite different. I can’t take one step further in this friendship when this interrupted bitch is still mad at me for taking a sip of her Snapple three years ago! Am I the only one who knows people that keep a score card of checks and balances within the friendship? I think you can really love someone while not even liking them at all. If one of your VIPs completely stops bringing anything positive to the table and is nothing but a drama queen, filled to the brim with cunty guilt trips and below the belt insults, it’s time to face the music and try to desperately gnaw yourself free from that sinking, damaged ship before she pulls you down with her.  And she Will! I mean when do you stop the madness and start protecting yourself? When do you slam down the judges gavel finalizing that there will be no more abuse? I’ve never really understood the battered wife syndrome myself but I’m definitely guilty of hanging on waaaaaaay too long to boyfriends and friend-friends with the hope of fixing the problem and saving it. Going back again and again makes it my fault at some point doesn't it?  There is no mystery as to what's hiding behind door number three.  How long should you wait before you abort mission? There’s no realistic future together when you’re having constant petty fights and name calling. These are the gals that bring up all the things said in strictest confidence and use them against you the second it suits them.  And by the time it bites you in the ass it’s way too late. You’re already vulnerable and wide open to the deepest of inside personal attacks. It’s hard to run from someone that you’ve know for the better part of your life, someone who knows your inner secrets and weaknesses, using them against you when the time is right. I need to start nurturing positive relationships with people that will eventually give something back other than a bipolar attitude.

          Living uptown I see exactly how much or how little effort people are willing to put into hanging out. Being the guy living in scary Harlem I’m always the one who spends the better part of an hour sitting on the 1 train traveling “down state” to have some semblance of a social life. God knows it won’t come to me! If I want to see my friends, ninety-nine percent of the time I'm the only one doing all the commuting. Not only are most of my peeps borough snobs, but wild horses couldn’t get these guys above 116th street if their lives depended on it! It doesn’t matter that my particular neighborhood is beautiful and quiet and right on the Hudson River. Nope, nothing could convince the jury to head north for the unbeatable views and square footage that isn’t exactly cheap. You’re telling me that my 3,500 sq. ft.; five bedroom; three bath with a pool room, and two huge floors of blissful space isn’t enough to convince you that my house is better for a party than any dorm room sized studio on 15th and Broadway? People would honestly rather squeeze into a glorified closet on Mercer street before they would sit on a train for twenty minutes up to my Hamilton Heights mansion for a dinner party. I mean doesn’t that sound nice...a river side view, space to bring a dog (or ten) with room to freely move around and socialize not wondering if there’s going to be enough seating or air conditioning? Why are people such uptown snobs I wonder? Don’t they know why I decided to move up here in the first place? It’s obviously worth it. Trust me, if I could have what I have downtown that would be truly ideal. I’d love to walk out my front door and be in the middle of it all. I’d kill for a Duane Read or CVS instead of relying exclusively on the Spanish Pharmacia. It’s a give and take. No one can have all the space they really need without sacrificing location unless you’re loaded and money isn’t a deterrent. I don’t actually know anyone whose rent isn’t their number one New York overhead.

(Elizabeth Stanley as Kira/VIP!)

       There seems to be a disconnect in my social life having been out on tour for a year roller skating in the brilliantly deep musical Xanadu! I love the city because I get to leave it now and then. That’s my only sanity, that and my dog Harley. It’s funny to me how New York not only doesn’t throw a parade for you upon arriving at La Guardia after an extended leave, but it didn’t even seem to notice that you left in the first place! Sure you can step out for a huge breath of fresh, uncomplicated, country air but you still return to all the same city bullshit no different from the day you left it.

         My add on Craig’s list would read “Will travel for worthy friendships!” It’s definitely time to reboot my emotional computer and air out the bitchy cobwebs of certain drama filled, clingy women and needy gay boys. Thirty was a time of deep reflection (and extreme panic) as I capped off my twenties. And now thirty one must be a time of action. It’s a sexy hot summer and I’m opening the window and beating out the emotional rug that’s been walked all over. I guess straight guys have to put up with menstruating female neediness all the time in the name of sex and getting laid.......but not this faggot! I’m done with this demanding fag hag (emphasis on the Hag), and ball breaking-lipstick- L Word-watching lesbian that takes and takes, never giving back anything other than angry, unmedicated gay grief. Maybe you should actually consider taking a few of the pills in the doctor-prescribed bottle of Ativan instead of flushing them down the toilet along with our friendship? Don’t sweat me bitches because I just don’t care anymore. All the energy I’ve been putting into fruitless old- horse friendships is now being refocused on trying to get to know people that have something other than bullshit to bring to the table. It takes a lot of effort for me to step out of my comfort zone even knowing it’s for the best. I know it’s going to be worth it in the long run. Stepping into uncertainty is always scary but an ongoing investment in something that is toxic and bad for you (even though it may be familiar) is a huge waste of life-time. It’s time to close the chapter on aggressively passive girls and rollerblade off into the hazy polluted sunset with one bitch that is always super low maintenance........my truest female soul mate of all...........my dog!