Confront

Wow. That was some hiatus. I apologize. Although the alignment of the last entry's Easter happenings of the past and the passing of Easter this weekend somehow seems like divine flow. At least, that will be the excuse I use.

I also have been resisting the next and hopefully LAST entry regarding Big Heartbreaker/Bobble Head. BUT this weekend, I felt the last shackle of pain that I held around my heart for him break and fall away, something I can only describe as a miracle. When I imagine him madly in love and committed to his present girlfriend, I actually feel peace. So, I'll trudge on with this tale.

My Show Best Friend had given me the go-ahead; now I was sitting in the middle of my murphy bed in San Francisco, staring at my phone, wondering how I was going to get the balls up to call him. I did. Got his voicemail, mercifully. "Hi. I'm returning to New York tomorrow and I want to be able to see you socially without things being awkward and I think we have a lot of things to say to one another. Can we meet up, alone, when I get back?"

And through what seemed like eternal phone-tag, we arranged to meet at The Joshua Tree on Restaurant Row, a Midtown hang that we frequented with the Straight Guy Theatre Crew. It was quite a thing to meet up there alone. Risky at the time. (By the way, I was just in New York this winter and it's no longer there. Huh.) He was waiting for me at a table when I got there. I wanted to strangle my heart for fluttering in my chest. The  sickness in my stomach made up for it, however. I had a job to do. We had something to settle. I stiffened my spine, ready for business.

After some small talk about what we were doing over the last two months, we got down to the nitty gritty. "Can you just tell me what I said?" BH eventually said, with sadness. I wished he wasn't. I liked my confrontations feisty, filled with snark and self-righteousness. His soft, almost kind tone was close to breaking me. I started to list the things he'd said:
"That you'd never met anyone like me-"
"That's true," he interrupted.
Rattled, I continued, "And that we have this thing between us that is so easy and yet so challenging and so right-"
"I do feel that."
I welled up. "That I finished thoughts for you and you for me-"
He laughed. "Well...yeah."
My heart started to soar. This was the big one."You said you loved me."
Without blinking he said, "I do."
I just shook my head, horribly confused. There was something very, very OFF. If all of this was true, then whyyyyy wasn't it worrrrking?! Or even been given a chance?! So I swallowed and continued, "And that you wished you weren't the way you were right now-"
"Well, Kath, I think I was just saying I wish I wasn't so drunk so that I could explain myself better." (Note that he "thinks" because he actually doesn't remember.)
"Really? Meaning?"
He paused. "Look, I think that you...being not so experienced...that that night meant something... more to you. Than me."

I guess it's important here to be clear: we did not have actual sex. After ten martinis or more, what guy could? And he was right, my sexual encounters were few and far between. I like emotional torture more than climaxing, obviously. HOWEVER, no matter WHAT the facts were regarding my experience, the condescending tone of his analysis made me hunker down and glarrrrrre, hoping to bore a hole in between his eyes. And none of his confirmations from before mattered now. I managed to swallow the bile in the back of my throat and said something to the effect of, "Well, that's an interesting opinion you have of me, BH." It was quiet for a while.

The crack in the Universe I'd heard made everything after a blur. I'm sure he asked if we'd "be cool" now and I nodded numbly. We probably caught up on what the SGTC was up to; I'm sure Cool Girl even laughed a bit.

When I walked out of Joshua Tree, tears silently fell down my cheeks as I walked to the subway. One of my biggest fears, that being a "Good Girl" would get me nowhere just exploded all over and the love of my life just rejected me because being intimate "meant too much" to me. I wish I could tell you I went out and decided to be a whore, but I didn't. Instead, for years, I sat in the loving cocoon of gay friendship and avoided the possibility of straight male attention all together. Became a sort of Guru with relationship ADVICE, however. Only spending time observing relationships instead of being IN one...you learn a lot of things.

BH & I managed an awkward friendship for years. I tried soooo harrrrrd to prove his All-or-Nothing theory he'd laid down that Valentine's Day about us wrong. Cool Girl pulled out all of the stops. He started dating a girl soon after our talk; I did not like her. Of course I didn't, but she was pretty rude to me and made it pretty easy not to. I give people three strikes, then...you're OUT. BH & I even had dinner together alone where I explained why I wasn't a fan. He seemed genuinely concerned that I "wouldn't give her a chance." I never understood why my opinion mattered so much to him. Even took the issue to my therapist, who thought it was suspect. God, I love her.

The dam broke at some point and BH and I were not speaking. I seem to remember him yelling at me for some reason. (HE IS SO MUCH LIKE MY OLDER BROTHER. It's freaking creepy.) His father had been battling cancer for many years and one Wednesday in between shows, A Brothah From Another Muthah called and told me he had died a few days before. BH and his dad were very close. Without a doubt I was going to go to the funeral in Jersey which was the next morning. I asked ABFAM how people were getting there and he said that he was riding with the SGTC and BH's girlfriend in a van they'd rented and that I should call The Canadian who was driving. I left a message and during the evening show, TC called back and said that he was sorry but there was no room in the van for me.

There was a part of me that wanted to throw a fit and say, "Of COURSE, there's not enough room for me! THERE IS NEVER ENOUGH ROOM FOR ME." But I bitch-slapped myself in my head and yelled, "Get over it! This ain't about YOU." and I did. I asked one of the sweet backstage crew guys during intermission if I could use his computer and sitting at his desk in my ridiculous Emerald City costume, found all of the info: when, where, what train and were there cabs available. The next morning, I walked into the church alone.

It was a modern church and there was no casket. I think there was a photo of BH's dad with flowers on it...BH was in the front row of course with his brother, his mom, and his girlfriend. It's like I could feel the waves of grief rolling off of him...I couldn't fathom that it wasn't me next to him. I was selfish. Very very selfish in that moment. I wanted to be his soft place to fall. Gathering my wits and fighting the urge to run up the aisle to him, I scanned the pews and locked eyes with Kansas Fan, who was sitting with ABFAM and the rest of the SGTC. He was shocked, thrilled, heartbroken in all of two seconds and then he grabbed me in a bear hug and brought me to sit next to him. I've never seen a more devastated group of guys. ABFAM practically put me in a head lock as he said, "I'm so glad you made it," in my ear.

There was a string quartet on the altar and two of the guys I recognized as close friends of BH and quite arguably, the best players in the city.Their playing went beyond performance; it was like all of them had no words for the sympathy they felt so, instead, put everything they had into the music to let BH & his family know. I knew BH chose all of the selections with intention. The minister who spoke gave an amazing Eulogy, being an actual friend and counselor to his dad, and gave us all the gift of the deepest truths that he'd lived by even in his darkest hour. He never lost his sense of humor, even while battling cancer for many, many years. It was a speech that brought laughter through tears and hearing that joyful release from the front row made me release a breath I did not know I was holding. BH was okay. He'd be okay.

Then, the quartet played again for a meditation period and thinking of it now... I wish I knew what it was, but I remember in my mind's eye actually seeing BH's dad lifted from the agony of this world and brought into the arms of Eternal Love. I'd had a real earth-shattering religious experience with the boys in that pew, told by the  overwhelmingly perfect music. And at the end, the piece seemed to acknowledge our collective pain and somehow let us know that we were not alone and would be okay. My shoulders shook uncontrollably as I grieved for my friend, ashamed of the love I withheld because I was too proud or too hurt to just be there for him in the way he needed. KF was a dear and stroked my back as I tried to fold myself in half while praying on my knees for the strength to face him.

When all was over, we all gathered as best we could, trying to be strong as we waited to greet the family in the back of the church. I saw BH's brother first; he's an actor and it was surreal watching two of his famous friends take him in their arms. And then BH walked out of the dark doorway into the blazing sunlight. His face was flushed from crying, hair wild from running his hands through it. I held back as he took in the SGTC  around him, my shame keeping me at bay. With his hand on my back, ABFAM gently guided me and presented me to BH in silence. The. Look. On. His. Face. *sigh* If surprise, relief, regret, grief, gratitude, warmth, love could all happen in one moment, it did. We said nothing, but charged into each others arms, crying into each others shoulders. He thanked me so much for coming and I told him I was so, so sorry, both of us whispering in each others ears. We sobbed. It felt like we stayed like that forever. When we finally parted and our eyes met, we both ended up laughing at the mess, and BH couldn't resist joking, "Well, I guess THAT'S over with, whatever THAT was." I smiled and touched his face. We embraced again and I said, "I love you so much." He replied, "I love you, too."

There was a reception after that I decided not to go to; I had rehearsal back in the city in a few hours and the NJ Transit trains were dicey. There was the awkward moment where the SGTC and BH's girlfriend gathered in the parking lot as I waited for a cab. ABFAM asked several times if I would go to the luncheon. All of a sudden there was room for me? I just shook my head and said it would probably be best if I didn't. I gave him a card that I had written for BH last night, thinking I might not even get to talk to him. I begged them to go ahead, that I'd be fine but TC insisted that they wait until my car came. Which left me and BH's girlfriend with  too much time on our hands. I took a deep breath and mustered up the most sincere greeting I could, dripping  with defeat. It was the nicest I had been since the first three chances I gave her. She was civil. Defeated as well, perhaps. I asked how everyone was doing and she gave the usual as-well-as-to-be-expected answer. The boys tried to make it easier for us. I was exhausted and just listened a bunch. Then, the conversation turned unto the topic of show-biz talk. The kind I hate. About this audition and that audition. She went on and on. We just went through a beautiful service remembering the father of the man she loved and she was talking about The Fucking Lion King. I prayed, no, WILLED that cab to get here. I guess I wasn't hiding my feelings very well because TC looked like he was prepped to jump in and stop me from attacking her at any given moment. The cab saved me from becoming a murderer, I said my goodbyes and left. I just kept thinking, "If that's what he wants in someone, that's what he wants in someone. You can't do anything about it. She makes him happy. It doesn't HAVE to make sense to you; it has to make sense to him." The cab driver must have thought I was crazy because I was shaking my head all the way to the train.

BH wrote me an email later that day, thanking me for my card and telling me it meant a lot that I came. I think it was the one and only email he's ever written to me without me writing first. (I still have it. Waaaay back in my inbox. From 8 years ago. I'm an asshole.) His father came to me in a dream that night. He told me that my love was not in vain and that he was glad I was there for BH. I woke up with dried tears on my face.

Yet, after awlllll thaaaaaat, it ends up that BH was right that Valentine's Night- we are no longer friends. Years later, I was going out of town to do Shakespeare in CT and ABFAM was headed on tour, so there were several See-Ya-Later events that week. I saw BH very little to begin with those days, so 2 days in a row was a big deal. His girlfriend, who he's been on and off with during the years, was there. They were "on" apparently. I said a chilly hello to her and that was it. I dodged her the rest of the evening.

Sitting in my apartment in CT, I saw BH playing for someone on VH1's Storytellers and playfully texteded him about it. He wrote back, "Oh, that old thing." And then he asked me if I could at least pretend to like his girlfriend when I saw her. I told him I didn't think I could, but that I would try to avoid her so I wouldn't have to. This started a balls-out text war which ended our friendship for good. Via TEXT, for Christ's Sake.

Enter the Little One at Day Three of Rehearsal, the first guy I had let into my heart in ages. He healed me more than he could ever know. He held my hand in public. He opened doors for me. He cuddled with me on the couch when I brought him over to watch football with a bunch of old friends. One of the SGTC even commented, "I've never even SEEN you be with a guy like that. You know, NOT on the DL."

The biggest confrontation I face in telling this long-assed friggin' story is with myself: Why is doing things on the DL so appealing, what am I so afraid of, what do I think is going to happen to me if I let people know I'm vulnerable or, God-forbid, in LOVE? I heard a speaker say the other night, "Most people think you have to bring Light to the Darkness, but ACTually, you have to bring the Darkness TO the Light." Putting this last part of the BH puzzle out in the Universe, something I have held close and in secret with such shame around it for so long, is an exercise in that. I'm looking forward to lightening up.

Played

Back in the day, I used to talk about my capacity to love like a great violinist with no violin to play. I'd pace up and down Ninth Avenue with a favorite gay, talking about how big it felt inside, this potential I had in me, with no real outlet. "I'm just waiting for my violin!" I'd shout, fists shaking in the air.

Did I mention Big Heartbreaker is a violin player.? Yep-puh. One of the best I've ever heard.

I left you on the street in Midtown Manhattan, giddy and blushing with joy over the two minute phone call I'd had with BH. I was now on Cloud Nine. I became bold. So bold, in fact, that I called  A Brother From Another Mothah to tell him the news. "I spent the night with BH last night," I blurted out. I was met with stone-cold silence and then ABFAM said a quick goodbye. I had broke the Bro Code.

Next time I was with the Straight Guy Theatre Crew, Cool Girl had redoubled her efforts. It was also the first time I saw BH. He said hello from across the room with a look in his eye that kept me from approaching him. I became steely.  I sat through talk of porn: favorite positions, real tits vs. fake tits, even how they liked their bush, bald or natural. BH made a point of giving his opinion on that last topic while he stared right at me. I turned the color of beets and ran up to the bar for another drink. When I came back, my Hippie Contortionist Friend had joined us; she was a sight for sore eyes. Cool Girl was loosing her grip. She and ABFAM had started hooking up recently, a pairing that was surprising to the rest of us but made things fun. She's fun times.

The night ended without incident and also without acknowledgement. But HCF and I confided in each other all of our feelings about these boys on our own time and I think I would have gone bat-shit crazy without her. One night, we were in a marathon over-share while on the Long Island Rail Road, I wanna say. We fessed up all of our never-to-be mentioned secrets; I gave her every last detail of Valentine's Day, including BH's rant about his feelings for me and my spaztic state of mind ever since. The next time I spoke alone to BH was to let him know I told ABFAM; "I KNOW you did," he growled at me; I had never wanted to share how that made me feel but trusted HCF with the humiliation. She was an insider. She got it. We traded theories on the psychology of the group like goddamn Dr. Phil and Oprah. The best thing was that she was supportive in the idea of me & BH as a couple. "He said he wished that he wasn't this way...so I just have to wait it out, right?! Like, he's messed up about his break-up and needs a minute. It's just too soon." I picked apart every word he had said for HCFs opinion and built a case that no one could argue against.

So BH & I danced around each other amongst this group for weeks; there was sexual innuendo when enough alcohol was involved, but Cool Girl was getting more and more sarcastic and generally snarky. All the while HCF & ABFAM were openly affectionate and entirely into one another. It was on Easter when Cool Girl lost her resolve.

I was house sitting for friends in Queens very close to where BH lived. I called and he answered which was amazing in itself. After a few minutes of friendly banter, I dove in. "I'm house sitting around the corner; why don't you come over?" "I don't think that's a good idea." "It's so close. When do we ever get to be alone?" I was practically begging; in the moment, even I heard it in my voice. Then BH got harsh. "Look, this is not going to be what you want it to be, okay? I know what you think. HCF told me." My heart went into my stomach. She could have said many, many things. "What did she tell you?" I croaked out. "That you're just waiting for me to get sober, stop drinking or whatever because then you think we can be together."

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!"

You know that rarest of moments when what you say & how you say it match perfectly to what is going on in your head? Yeah. It was the "What" Heard 'Round the World. I. Was. Pissed.

"I never, ever said that, BH. Ever." "Well, that's what she said." "And you chose to believe her over me? You have been so fucked up and distant with me because of what SHE said and never ONCE thought about ASKING me about it?!" Beat. "Well, what DID you say?" he asks.

I welled up. Took a big breath. Was silent for a while. He even said my name to make sure I was there.

I chose to tell him the truth. At least part of it.

"Well, you said all of those things to me that night and I figured you'd let me know when you were ready to try something real, because you said you wished you weren't the way you were right then, and I figured you were fucked up from your break-up..." I trailed off. Now it was BH's turn to be silent. I said his name to make sure he was still there.

And then it hit me like a Mack truck: he didn't remember annnything from that night. Not one word he'd said to me. Not one fucking thing.

I gasped at the realization. And I asked him out loud if that was the truth. "What did I say to you?" was my answer. I didn't think it was possible for me to turn more red, but I managed. The human body is an amazing thing.

"I cannot believe this is happening, I cannot believe this is happening," I kept repeating as he begged me to tell him what he'd said. How the tables had turned. "You don't deserve to know," I whispered. He sighed. "Well, what do we do now?" "I'll tell you what I'M going to do. I'm going to San Francisco for two months to do my work and I'm not speaking to you the entire time. That's what I'm doin'." "Well...that sucks." he responded quietly. "Yeah. Lots of things suck." And I hung up. And wailed. Deep wails from my guts that felt like my soul was being wrung out.

At one point, I thought of it being the feast of the Resurrection and yet I felt like I was just dead and buried. And I laughed at the drama of my inner monologue. It's the only thing that stopped my tears.

So I had all of this spaaaace now in my head that BH used to occupy. The only thing that stopped me from imploding was falling in love with San Fran, I think. It took up that space. That, and practically living in a chilly dark theatre while helping create a big, fat hit of a show. It was appropriate; my heart needed to hibernate.

At the end of my San Fran stay, I found myself confessing things to My Show Best Friend on pillows she had bought for the two month stay, from Marshalls, of course. "I've been thinking of contacting him when I get back," I said while picking at the beaded silk in my lap. "You know, to talk to him. To hash it out. We just have so many friends in common..." MSBF found my eyes and asked me, straight up, "If today he said, 'I wanna be with you. Come back and be with me.' would you take him up on his offer?"

I felt the ice-cap melting...

"Yes. Yes I would."

"Then, you should call him."

And I did.

Forget

It's seems like a lot of things in my life lately are challenging me to let the past go. I've had feelings come up that I thought were dead and buried rise like extras in The Walking Dead. My 30-something self is fighting battles my 20-something self never won. I know it's bad when I hear the German version of 99 Red Balloons in this all-night coffee place and I start to cry. "Hab' 'nen Luftballon gefunden. Denk' an dich und lass' ihn fliegen..."

So last entry I was telling you how fucked I was. In the emotional sense, not the physical, unfortunately.

That night, Big Heartbreaker and I did NOT share the bed. He thought it'd be best not to tempt fate. My friend who was in the area came and met me at the hotel bar and BH kindly offered up his side of the bed for her so the two of us could have time to catch up properly. The party moved to the bride & groom's suite after we'd shut that down. It was a late night. And early morning.

I had felt that everything changed that night before, but as we took the long road back to NYC, I overheard a conversation BH was having with his girlfriend that he had "broken up" with while we made a pit stop. We sat in the back of the car and he acted like he wanted to hide it, but didn't. He was asking her what she wanted to have for dinner when he returned- "Should I make lamb chops?" He hung up and I just stared at him. He got defensive as I said nothing. This pretty much summed up our whatever-we-were-doing for the next few months.

I began to pour all of my feelings into journals. Pages and pages. I feel so sorry for The Lead in All the Plays in College who had to live with me during that time. Because discussing anything upfront with BH was way out of the question according to the silent code of the Straight Theatre Guy Crew, she got the brunt of my chaotic emotional life. I am embarrassed when I look back at it. Mainly because I was soooo suuuure. There was no doubt in my mind that it would all work itself out. And I guess it has. Just not in the way I desperately wanted it to.

After a few months, all of the super-analyzing of BH data became exhausting and I began to crave distance. Especially when his ex finally DID move out and I would be privy to dude conversations amongst the STGC about how much pussy BH was getting now that she was gone. Now, these guys were always leaving town for gigs and inevitably would have a "Going Away Party" liiiike, once a month it seemed. A Brother from Another Mothah was leaving next, so I decided I needed to make an appearance. It was one of those fun Midtown nights where everyone in the ten block radius was at the same bar yet BH & I managed to talk in the middle of the roar. "You haven't been around much," he said. "Yeah, and now that ABFAM is going out of town, I guess I'll really NEVER see you, huh?" "Why do say that?" "Well, you'd have to make a plan with meeee, you know, to seeee me." He kind of huffed at the challenge.

I didn't see him for weeks.

Then a text. On Valentine's Day.

I'd worn all black to work because I like to call Valentine's Day "Black Friday" or "Black Whatever the Day of the Week It Falls On." Valentine's Day and I are not friends. The only sign of hope I wore was a small silver heart that at closer look, was in two pieces around my neck. I received the text while at the office and it seemed like it was to a group but I wasn't sure. I didn't really give a fuck, actually.

When I met up with BH at a bar downtown, it was just the two of us after all. He made a comment about trying to reach some of the guys to hang out...but something in his tone sounded like a lie. Like he saw the look on my face when he was by himself and he had to make excuses. I don't doubt that I rolled my eyes just a little at it.

We got to the end of the bar early and held it up until very very late. God, I loved having him to myself. Our conversation flowed like great music: topics that were sweet where we agreed and then turning sharp when we didn't, but always smart and playfully respectful. He made me laugh like no other and equally outraged in the next moment. I was always defending a line of thinking or set of beliefs with him. We had round after round. I got braver with my incidental touching and of course he had to comment on it. "Oh, you're getting a little touchy feely, aren't you now?" he said with a twinkle in his Irish eyes. I blushed into my shoulder, blissfully happy. It was his birthday at midnight and we made a toast to the year ahead. I silently thanked God that he was born. I was unable to hide behind any Cool Girl cover at this point. I beamed unabashedly. While he made his way to the restroom, I asked the bartender to let me take care of the bill. She smiled at me and took my credit card. He sat back down on the stool next to me and I couldn't help but reach up and play with his hair. He took my hand, leaned in, and made the offer I wish I had fully understood and believed when he put it on the table:

"We can be good friends for the next 20, 30 years or...you can come home with me now."

I said, "I wanna come home with you," without missing a beat. He kissed me hard.

Then he exploded with an outpouring of confessions. That he'd never met anyone like me, that we have this thing between us that is so easy and yet so challenging and so right, that I finished thoughts for him and him for me and that he loved me and wished that he wasn't the way he was right now....

I have to admit, my mind tripped at the 'loved me' part. It was all too much. He was basically saying all of the things I felt, and they were like a giant wave crashing over me. I was completely overwhelmed.

The check came and the girl charged me for maybe 4 drinks. I think we drank 14 between us. I tipped her as ridiculously as she undercharged us and when I passed the check back to her, she winked.  We stumbled into a cab and BH just realized that he had nothing to do with taking care of the bar tab. "Ssshhhh, don't worry I got it. Happy Birthday." "But I had a thousand drinks..." "She charged us for four." And we both said at the same time, the same exact way, "She totally wanted me." Then we laughed until we cried and kissed and cuddled and I couldn't wrap my head around this actually happening.

He was extra kind as we crossed his threshold, turning into the guy nervous about showing his apartment for the first time. In the kitchen, he asked if I was hungry and I said I'd have whatever he was making and he made us a PB&J sandwich to share with the last of his jelly. "I gave you the side with more jelly," he said with a huge smile on his face, looking like a five year old. We talked some more and it is hazy but I do remember me bringing up my combative nature. "I guess growing up with brothers, I always associate fighting with love. Fighting somehow means loving to me." I stared at him, hoping he understood, praying he could read between the lines. And he replied, "You know the best way not to fight, though? Just chose not to."

He dragged me into his bedroom and gave me some of his comfy clothes to wear that didn't stay on too long. We ended up on the living room floor laying on blankets and pillows like a real sleepover. We passed out in each others arms but I woke up on what felt like the other side of the Universe, by myself, staring at his sleeping face from afar. It was early and I had to get to Brooklyn Heights from his place in Queens to work. I became all business, sneaking away to get back into my work clothes, mentally preparing for the walk of shame across three boroughs. I got him a glass of water and gently touched him just to let him know I was leaving. He was hurting from the ten martinis and seemed really confused. "You're leaving?" I nodded. "Work." "Stay a bit..." "I can't. I'm already late." "Okay..." "You need to sleep, Birthday Boy. Talk to you later?" "Yeah, okay."

I worked the longest shift ever, head in overdrive, still in last night's black clothes. I was excited but still unsure. All of those things he said...how could I doubt now? I'd HEARD it, for Christ's Sake. But he was really drunk and I had butterflies galore and felt like I could play this very badly if I wasn't careful.

No word from him all day so I got cleaned up after work and met up with a friend on 54th between Eighth Ave. & Broadway. While I was waiting on the street, my phone rang.

"Well, hiiiiii."
"Excuse me, was I naked with you last night? Is that what happened?"
"Why, yes, Sir, I think I may have been naked and on your floor until this morning."
A firetruck siren from down the street loudly blares. It flies up Eighth Ave.
"Is that a firetruck going by you? Where are you?"
"54th & Eighth."
"That's funny. That's where I am in my car. That truck just passed me by."
"So what you're saying is that when you decided to call me, we just so happen to be in the same place?"
"Yeah. That's weird. Like it's meant to be or something."
"Yeah. It is."

And that was the last time I felt so sure about us.

...to be continued...