Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Maybe Pat Benatar WAS right

I've come up with a theory about dysfunctional relationships...

...but before I do, here is a disclaimer: I'm NOT talking any ONE relationship
or any ONE person, or even only my OWN situations...but patterns that I've seen
with quite a few people over quite a long time, myself included. I think about
these kinds of things a lot.

Anyway, my observation is....

...that one person (or sometimes both people) in the relationship say/do fucked
up things to the other, and create multitudes of drama out of thin air, for
seemingly no real rhyme or reason.

But, I think that this sort of behavior is rooted this line of thinking: They
figure that if someone is willing to put up with all of THIS bullshit...from ME,
then he/she must REALLY LOVE me!

It must be rooted in some lack of self esteem; they don't realize that there is
enough to love about them without an international crisis happening once every
week or two.

It's too bad, because it ultimately puts a huge strain on the person on the
receiving end of it, and therefore, on the relationship. And relationships are
hard enough as it is. The result of this winds up being that NEITHER person in
the relationship winds up having their needs met. And then the real trouble
begins. As Greg Dulli once sang, "Resentment always goes much further than it
was supposed to go."

And you know, maybe it works for awhile. If you love someone, to the point at
which their pain is your weakness, you probablly WILL put up with the shitstorms
that happen all too often.

But eventually, something will give....and that means that someone throws his/her
hands in the air and gives UP. And then, everyone gets hurt.

And it's too bad.

The only silver lining comes from learning from it and moving on & hopefully doing
better next time, should there be one. If you love someone, or even like them,
the whole point should be that you enjoy being around each other, right? I always
thought so.

But, I know that shit gets WAY more complicated than that, and...well,
there's the rub, right?

Again, I say all of this with no malicious intent, judgement, or ill will toward
anyone. Hell, I'm hardly perfect and am not even close to being an expert.

Good luck!

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Welcome To the Concrete Jungle....or.....My First Night Out On the Town in NYC!

All of you who know me know that I know my way around the big city, & that I've had my share of late, late nights...but that I generally am able to keep my shit together.  (I'm knocking on wood as I write that, hahahaha).

This was not always the case, and I'm going to tell you a funny story to illustrate that.

It was approximately a year before I moved into town. I had never, ever been to New York City in my life, and knew nothing about it, aside from what I read about 10 times in PLEASE KILL ME. I had flown here with my good friend Dan (my oldest friend from back home, for lack of a better term). We crashed at his sister, Julie's apartment on the Upper West Side. (Julie would later become my sort-of "Rock n' Roll big sister" when I was a new kid in town, for which I am eternally grateful). We had a big dinner and a few beers the first night we were here....but we couldn't wait to get our asses out to the East Village/Lower East Side to....immerse ourselves in the perceived coolness that was there. 

Yeah, right.

So, we got on the Subway Train and went downtown, not really knowing what the hell we were doing or where the hell we were going, but knowing that we wanted to hit Coney Island High and the Continental, etc. I'm sure that we looked just as clueless as we were at the time. I think we went to the Continental first, and had a couple of Heinekens and shots of Jagermeister (my combo of choice at the time. Yuck!), and probably very obviously ogled at the girls there, etc, whom I'm certain took no notice of us. I hope not, anyway, hahahahaha!!!

Anyway, we headed around the corner to Coney Island High, and the dude at the door (who was that?) said that there were psychedelic bands playing upstairs, or some shit. That was good enough for us, so we headed on up, ordered ourselves another round, and checked out the band, whoever it was.

Soon, we started getting a little bit drunk, when some attractive black-haired girl started talking to me. I should have known from the start that it was too good to be true, and that I was being played, but I was much younger and more naive, let alone a stranger in a strange land. It probably didn't help that I mentioned that I didn't live in NYC....I think I recall her response being something along the lines of, "No shit!"

Pretty soon, this chick started dancing with her arms around me, and, of course, I thought that I had hit the jackpot! I was probably thinking, "Party time in NEW YORK!! I think I LIKE this place!!!"

She was dancing behind me, while, I suppose I was waving my hands in the air like I just don't care, or something to that effect. And I didn't....until I felt her hands around my waist...unbuckling my BELT!!!  To make matters worse, this chick started pulling my PANTS down!  

Luckily enough, even in my advanced state of refreshment, my reflexes were sharp enough that I was able to fight her off without being disrobed and/or overexposed, the operative term being, "Listen, you crazy bitch, leave me the fuck ALONE!"

And of course she looked at me with her faced crumpled with disdain, and yelled, "FINE, BE THAT WAY!" before she and her friend walked out the door. It was then that I noticed Dan laughing his ass off.  I re-buckled by belt, and probably suggested that he shut the fuck up, and come with me to the bar to get another beer!

Before long, we walked over to Bleecker Street Bar for some reason, and continued with the merriment, and basically had a good time...albeit less eventful.

But the story doesn't end there!

We decided it was about time to head back to Julie's GOD know's what time, but I suspect it was close to NYC's bar time of 4am. We grabbed the Subway to head back to the Upper West Side. I guess somewhere along the way, the booze and energy of the Big City got the best of me....because the next thing I knew, I was being nudged awake by this little Hispanic Good Samaritan Dude who was sitting next to me (thank you, Sir, whomever and wherever you may be). I looked around, and Dan wasn't THERE! Dude said that he had left!

In other words, I had passed out during the train ride, and Dan walked off the train, apparently assuming that I was walking behind him. He didn't notice that I was sitting there catching up on some much-need rest until he was off the train and the doors had closed! 

I was scared shitless, because I I was drunk, alone, and didn't know my way around to save my life. So, I did the only thing I could think of TO do, and I got off the train, grabbed a payphone, and called Julie (whose #, luckily, was in my pocket. I had no cellphone yet).

"I DON'T KNOW WHERE I AM OR WHAT THE FUCK TO DO!!!" I exclaimed, as I heard Dan laughing his ass off (AGAIN) in the background. 

She told me, between guffaws, to just jump in a cab and have it drop me off on the corner by her building. 

"Oh....well.....ok, then!" Simple enough, right?

When I walked through her door, we decided that, in light of the hilarity that we had experienced that night, just one more round of Heinekens was in order, despite my exhausted state.


It seems so long ago.....yet it doesn' know what I mean?