I went out with 2 of my best guy friends in the whole world tonight. Both polar opposites of each other. Both outed me tonight on making out with both of them. Both of them, none suspecting. Oy vey! Ions ago. Both make out sessions (at different times) right after throwing up from major intoxication. There was a point in my life where I thought my vomit was an aphrodisiac. Maybe it was just because I tend to get really nice/vulnerable when I'm puking my guts out. Who knows?
I love these guys. They are the angel and demon in my life and sometimes it's nice to take them both out for a drink - or two.
One of them is getting married....the "demon". Of course. All the "demons" in my life seem to get married, shortly after a barrage of mockery in my general direction about my philandering sentiments about matrimony and commitment. But that is for a different blog. Tonight, amongst the cheersing and eye rolling, I had a small come to Jesus about the branches of my dating life, which quickly spiraled into the branches of my many exes.
Just before happy hour, I had a happy hello from a mister Isle of Man, circa 2007 pop up on my facebook messenger. 'What's going on in the world of Kyla?' was his opening line (about three years since his last hello) What's going on with me? Let me sum it up in one word, single. He - married. The man whose definition of change is getting a gold fish. Skips completely over his wife and goes to, "I got a gold fish". Wow. That and he's getting ready to sell his apartment to get a house - he wants a garage. He was a great ex. He was an out of town ex. A friend of a friend from the Isle of Man who I met and him ending up doing the worst thing imaginable - ditching his friends to spend the weekend at the beach with me. A giant, all muscle, rugby man with the cutest accent and arms for days. I couldn't help but fall back into my little pocket of him tonight. I have this video I took of him the morning I drove him to the airport, believing I would see him again and our future was possible. It is one of my favorite videos because his sincerity was as warm as the heater blanket I wrap myself up in every night (and avoid at all cost leaving in the morning). We were in my kitchen, the first apartment I lived in alone. I said, "say something" and he begins to speak at which point I say, "or do a dance" at which point he begins to dance about. Behind the camera I am a nervous director, waiting to see what I will capture, so I continue to instruct and he obediently follows along, kissing the camera lens and telling me he will miss me and see me as soon as possible. The scene ends with a pause where I shut the fuck up and he has a moment to pull out of himself and his beautiful "British" lips - "I'm gonna miss ya baby". Oh....swoon.
And I know he's married and I know he's gone, but I still sent that video to him tonight because no one - in this world - could appreciate that moment outside of us. Ya, ya, I thought about his wife and marriage and blah blah blah but that moment existed and still does in both of us. And I'm a million miles away and a thousand years from then, and still single.
But even tonight, with my "demon" whose getting married, there was something I felt like I couldn't talk about. That being the fact that I wasn't sure if I could make his wedding - in Brooklyn. It just felt so annoying that you can't even tell your bestie that you're conflicted because you are trying to save money (to buy a house) and then there's your friends "life" putting itself right in front of yours. Clearly I ended up spilling my guts all over the table about it. I mean I held it in for a good 2 weeks and that was all I had - or else I would have just had to forfeit our friendship all together to avoid talking about what was really on my mind. It just felt weird to suddenly make his wedding about my fear of not being able to afford it. I believe the etiquette is to nod and smile at the bride and groom and bitch to your "friends" but what if the groom is your friend. You get drunk at sushi and let it fly. It started out awkward, a little bit like a chewed off finger nail, you could see the "angel" getting nervous. I tried not to make eye contact with either of them. More awkwardness and explaining and scowling and explaining and head shaking and lots of gesticulating and almost knocking over beers and then a forced awkward hug followed by an awkward back scratch. The "angel" had enough and left for a potty break and I sat next to my "demon" trying to collect myself (and finish my beer). The "angel" returned and naturally, I leaned in and hugged my little goose "demon" and we were fine again.
That's the best thing about friends - real ones - they love the shitty parts of you, as much as the good parts, which they only mention when you are in a really bad place, (not to give you a big head.) God I love those guys.
I also learned tonight that to men, it's not just the size of junk, but how far/hard they can "shoot" it. Guess who brought that up, and who concurred. What would I do without them?
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