No Bed Moped

Yeah, so this happened.

I was at an uber fabulous party for Fashion Week; you know, uncomfortably refined... enticing in the worst ways...

I was elegantly wasted due to the endless flow of complimentary vodka and champagne, and doubly exhausted from the flight I had just taken 2 hours prior to get to New York. Needless to say, I had to get home, quick. Before that last shot put me over the edge.

My friend I had accompanied was still busy feasting on the fame-filled buffet, and was not leaving anytime soon, and so I stepped just outside to consider my options of escape. Phone dead... shit.

Before I could drunkenly stupor towards yet another bad-idea shot at the bar, a gorgeous man grabbed my attention. "Hello." Well hello! He flirted me up, said all the right things in that perfect raspy, deep, sexy voice. He invited me to another party. I declined, as my debaucherous nature was sure to peak at any moment and I knew I should head back to my place. He insisted, smiled flirtasiously, gazed into my eyes, pulled my hair behind my ear and asked again.

Before I knew it I was on the back of his moped flying through the city, headed anywhere but where I should have been going. Dodging crowds, cabs and stoplights... hair blowing in the wind, heels barely set on the foot-rests. It was all quite perfect. The next party was, needless to say, a blast. And again I insisted I must go. But alas, a gaze a grab and a kiss later, we were on his bike again. This time for a late night dinner.

After he paid the bill, I again insist, "Ok, it's 5am, I must go back. I have no idea where I am. It was a great time, but I'm exhausted" and like clockwork, he held my hand, smiled that dangerous smile and points across the street and shows me his loft. How convenient.

We stumble up seven flights of stairs, giggling the whole way. We get to his door and before he turns the key he looks to me and says the last possible thing I could have ever predicted.

HIM: "So, I just thought I should let you know... we can't bone or anything. I'm sort of seeing someone."
ME: ...
HIM: "Is that cool?"
ME: "First of all, don't use the word 'bone.' Second of all, what... why... um...."
HIM: "I just really like her and..."
ME: "But you brought me here. I wanted to go home all night. You talked me into this whole night every step of the way... I didn't even expect..but somehow... how am I getting dumped right now?"
HIM: "Sorry... it's just getting serious and..."
ME: "You know what, open the fucking door. I need to go to bed."

We went to sleep. He gave me a ride back in the morning.

Did he think that made him faithful? Or made me desperate? What? huh?

That happened.

Big Rotten Apple

As is typical with my work, I was sent off to New York with about 12 hours notice. I was immediately ecstatic as my boss mentioned it wasn't a full blown, crazy work trip and I should enjoy as much of fashion week as I was to cover it for work as well. My first thought was New York guy... as I'd mentioned in a previous post, he was the real deal - the only time I'd actually felt that immediate "wow" that we all think we'll never experience again after a lost love. We met in december of 2009, fell for each other immediately. Upon arrival in Los Angeles after that magical trip, I had assumed the affair was nothing more than a fling. It was serendipitous and presumably real in nature, yet I knew better about long distance relationships... so you can imagine my surprise when I landed in the hell hole that is LAX to find several messages from him proclaiming his regret of withholding his proclamation to me in person the inexplicable feelings he felt for me whileI was still on his coast. "I don't want to lose you now that I've finally found you."

We continued speaking, video chatting, emailing consistently and I flew to visit him again in February... out of my control, as is typical with all matters of the heart, he dropped the "L" bomb and I must admit, I got scared. Scared of yet another long distance relationship; stuck in limbo, absent of growth and understanding, filled with jealousy and inadequacy... so I suggested we tone it down and not allow a relationship. He disagreed but obliged... to my later dismay, of course.

I only heard from him two more times after that exchange. Once at midnight on my birthday in March, just a text "Happy Birthday gorgeous." And again in May when he expressed his desire to start speaking again. He explained that he had never stopped loving me, and that he never felt so much that something, or someone, was missing... I couldn't keep my guard up any more because I felt the same way, and agreed. But it never went back to the way it was before I tainted his trust... his openness.

We spoke just a few weeks after that exchange and as had become a trend, he became busy, seemingly nervous about getting too close again, and disappeared... blew me off a few nights in a row and I became upset, explained that I wasn't a therapist - only to be contacted when he was lonely and needing help.

So back to the present.

I flew to New York on a Saturday - apparently the same day he flew in from a long trip overseas to see family. I called him immediately. He expressed the same desire to see me as I had. And then, nothing. For days, he would text or leave a voicemail asking when he could see me, I'd respond and make plans, then he would disappear. I was stood up or forgotten for 6 days in a row. I tried and tried to see him... make him feel comfortable and confident... It was heart wrenching. I freed up one full day for him since I was staying about 3 blocks away from his home. And alas, that day he had disappeared completely. No response, no explanation. No more apologies as he had provided the previous 5 days, such as "I'm sorry about last night. I've been really off. Are you free tomorrow?"

So there I was. A dismal day in Brooklyn, with the worst hangover in my life, irrationally sad and regrettably let down yet again, and so I left the cafe where I passed time for a few hours and walked back to my friend's place where I was staying. And out of nowhere, with almost as much irony and finesse as the irreverent rejection I had experienced thus far, thunder crashed, clouds descended and I begun a faster pace home as I thought it may rain.

I answered a phone call, from my friend. "There's a tornado warning... are you safe?" And before I could really free my drunken mind from the awful bliss of a forever-familiar rejection, the heaviest rain and hail I had ever seen in my life poured onto my already-drowning body. I ran. Fast. Frightened, sad, tired, dehydrated, confused and laughing an uncontrollable, psychotic laugh - the kind that explodes from your aching soul when there's no other way to process the disasters that you feel are only aimed at you. This finally can't get any worse I thought... and with that, I felt some peace.

I ran for bout 5 minutes - the only 5 minutes the storm, lightening bolts and twister lasted. I walked in to my friends apartment looking the way I felt.  I looked like hell. Wet, scuffed up, cold hell.

He never saw me and never wrote me after that stormy day.

I guess I just wish he had said what he thought, or atleast stuck to one action rather than professing contradicting regressions to what we had.

Blow me off completely and don't contact me.
Or follow through and see me.
Or tell me you can't see me.

Silly me for expecting even the most fading remnants to remain ripe... I should have known better.

Now I do. Maybe that was the whole point?

My shoes are ruined. Sole and all.