where are the fireworks? part 2

Not five minutes after David left the bar with his friends to head for Krash, I practically dragged Ross out and headed to the train station. The night was nowhere near "young" and I was determined to meet David again. Just because I chose him, and I find the idea of switching tracks and kickin' it to somebody else mid-fixation to be nauseating and tiresome.

How fast did we get there? Well, we "happened" to be in line DIRECTLY behind the unsuspecting vict--um, I mean David outside the club. The look on his face when he turned around was worth the hustle. Something about someone --a very ATTRACTIVE someone-- looking at me like Christmas morning makes me all warm and tingly inside. We embraced. Again. What? I'm needy. It's not like I asked for a freakin' ring, nor do I want one. Let's just say I'm tryin' really hard NOT to be jaded, but I got some callouses over the old ticker I need to buff off and moisturize, and hugs are TOTALLY helpful.

The rest of the night was pretty straightforward. We'd take turns leading each other around. Ross graciously excused himself, and no doubt to see what he can see for himself, but I made sure to check in with him regularly. I HATE when I'm third-wheelin' it, so I try not to do it to other people. I was SO in the mood to dance, but felt weird around David, who was totally unfamiliar with dancing to hip hop and r&b, outside of what is on TV, which even when accurately portrayed, still loses something in translation. He tried to join in, but it seemed almost caricature-ish, though I know he meant no harm by it. Other folks have done far worse, but because I can be so self-conscious I feigned A.D.D. and led him back upstairs to the house music, where the basic 4-4 time signature was familiar enough to him. I'm sure payback will be a bitch if and when he ever leads me onto a dance-floor blastin' salsa and cumbia, or heaven freakin-forfend, Paso Doble or some shit. *shudder*

Around 4 or 5AM the DJs signal closing by playing horrible music, driving out most sane folk, and the stragglers are ushered out by the steroid pumping bouncers. We walk out and David is easily convinced to join Ross and I for breakfast, and subsequently jump in a cab with me to head back to my house and cuddle, on the condition --as imposed by his friend Pablo-- that I will safely bring him to Orchard Beach around noon.

We didn't make it, of course. What the fuck for? I didn't say that, nor did I even need to think it. It was more or less an unspoken agreement between David and I that we'd basically be laid up in the bed, or lounging around my apartment, for the bulk of the day. It didn't hurt that David was feeling REALLY queasy from drinking so much the night before, and it took him the majority of the day to recover, perfectly content to just do nothing, and in my company. Finally, my guilt complex kicked in and we got ourselves together to take him back "home" in the Bronx. The LAST stop on the 1 train. By the time we got there, his friends Pedro and Eddie were in the bed resting from their day at the beach. I didn't feel like loungin' with THEM, nor did I want to go with them to Roxy, of all places, later in the evening, and so after having dinner at the local diner with David, took my ass home.

I COULD have gone out somewhere else, probably Escuelita with CJ, since he invited me, but I didn't want to feel guilty, since I told David I was going home. Yes, I know I don't owe him anything, and should only do what is actually IN me to do, not to mention I TOTALLY would've gotten over it by the time I got to Escuelita's but still I stayed home. Partially to AGAIN putter around in my room, half-heartedly work on any number of unfinished songs, but mostly just to rest up some more. The bed I shared with David was a twin, and so had to do some more catching up on rest. Solo. zzzZZzZZZzzzz....

More of nothing on Sunday, and he actually spent the night with me. He had been drinking beer, and I was starting to feel smothered, so was picking at anything that turned me off. Me being sober was nauseated by the beer breath and didn't want him breathing on me. Him not being stupid could sense that I was behaving differently and "hung back," observing me with some trepidation. I felt bad, and compromised, dragging him with me into the shower and even supplying a toothbrush for him, tossing out any subtleties. He laughed, understanding, and we finally went to sleep.

That was my weekend. Monday was more of the same, but we went to see Superman Returns, and then I got ready to go to work. While at work, apparently there was drama with his host, Pedro, who more or less pissed David off to the point where he took his suitcase with him to my job, and then my apartment to spend the rest of his stay until he flew to Argentina. Pedro finally admitted to feeling offended that David was more inclined to spend time with me, despite all the many activities and outings, the bulk of which involved really tacky or pretentious and predominantly white clubs, that he had planned for him. It is then explained to me that Pedro is really Eddie's friend. Eddie is a neighbor of David's, with whom they share a mutual friend. So even EDDIE is not as good a friend, although Eddie was more understanding, and sympathetic to David's predicament, almost feeling embarrassed by Pedro's tirade.

It all worked out for the best, because I got to spend real time with David, and got to see him on a "normal" day, and on a "normal" date, and being better able to appreciate his personality, outlook, and spirit. Not to mention the countless times he'd look at me over the course of the day, which embarrassingly prompted STRANGERS to look at me, wondering what the big fuss was about. Ain't gon' lie, though. It made me smile. Fuck it, that shit felt GOOD. At this point I had bought into the idea of enjoying it for what it was, aided by the fact that he WAS leaving, and we could realistically agree that the long-distance thing wouldn't make sense, and thereby ultimately recognize that we didn't owe each other anything beyond respect and open affection. No commitment.

So... there were no fireworks for me on the fourth of July. More laying around in the apartment, and then showing him how to get to the airport. I chose AGAIN not to go out, and was actually sad to see him go. But I plan on flyin' down to Puerto Rico to see him in August! *grin*

Meantime I'll have to content myself with exchanging emails and occasional phone calls. I've also resolved to learn spanish for REAL, and enroll in a class at the ABC Language Center. Not this week, of course, since I'm broke as all get-out, but it's definitely in the cards. Meantime I'm bringing the "Learn Spanish" guidebook and CDs to work and harrassing my coworkers overnight to repeat the fuckin' phrases with me. It needs doing, and not just to better communicate with David, coz lord knows he plans on improving his English, but to increase my value in the workforce --can you smell a driving course coming up as well? aargh-- and because I live in freakin' New York City, where people automatically assume I speak Spanish anyway.