Tuesday, February 19, 2013

a happy valentine.

i've been working a lot. but also there have been developments in my personal life. by which i mean that i had my first makeout since late september. yes, folks, it is true: i went four and a half months without so much as a kiss. ...until valentine's day.

what happened is that i ran into a girl i have had a light crush on for several months. i was looking really cute, as i always do on valentine's day. i never ever have a date on valentine's. my ex was too punk rock or whatever to really get behind it, and other than that i've always been single or had a long-distance lover. i have LITERALLY never ever had a valentine's date ever.  anyway, i ran into this girl and we chatted for a few minutes, and then went on with our lives. i was feeling the need to go out into the world for the night, rather than staying home with myself as per usual. some girls had invited me to a house party, and i decided to go. while i was putting on makeup, the cute girl texted me to see what i was up to. i told her i was heading to a party, and asked if she'd like to come. i was surprised when she said yes. and so i gave her the address and met her there. she arrived before i did and waited in her car, since she didn't know the people whose party it was. when she saw that i was there, she got out of her car and came over to me, and took my arm in a sweet way. 

IT WAS SO CUTE. and also just perfect. i haven't arrived at a party with anyone in ages.

when she took off her coat, i saw that she'd put on a red blazer for the occasion. swoon. we danced and talked, had a cocktail, and then we kissed.  she is an excellent kisser, just truly superb. it was a lovely kiss. and then we made out for a good long time. we went home separately. ok if i'm honest i have to tell you that we went home separately because she wanted us to go to another party together, but i was drunk and didn't want to get in a car. we were only a couple blocks from my house, and i was planning to walk home. so she went to get another drink, and that was the last i saw of her. i texted her a bit later to see where she was at, and she said, "at home boo. got so tired all of a sudden."

i was offended for one second, and i mentioned it to a friend who was like, "yeah, that's kind of lame. but whatever! you ALWAYS pull a shady irish sneakout. what about new years? or how about the party at my house last week?"

"it's true," i said. "i do pretty much always disappear around the witching hour without saying goodbye. but shady irish sneakout is a weird term. i prefer to say i've performed a backdoor shuffle. and i must say that if i've been making out with someone, i will almost always find them and say goodbye." but i am so familiar with the feeling of having to leave RIGHT NOW for any number of reasons, that i wasn't offended anymore. also i was just in such a good mood that i wanted to go with it, and i had a great time dancing with my friends into the wee hours.

well. that had nothing to do with work, but i just thought i'd tell you about that because i've been so depressing lately. "blah blah blah i'm suicially heartbroken, blah blah blah my father died."  i'm happy to be able to report that something good happened to me (besides just making money at work, which of course i always enjoy).

i worked on saturday and the girl texted around 2am to see if i wanted to stop in and say hi while she was closing up the bar where she works. it was just down the street from my club, and i wanted to see her, so even though i was dead tired from the saturday crowd, i said yes. i got there and she was super busy cleaning and counting money, etc. there was an afterparty going but it was mostly dudes and every single one of them came and chatted solicitously with me for a minute. after a long night of work, i really don't feel like talking to dudes, so i was polite but unfriendly and they left me alone. the girl barely said hello to me and i felt dumb for being there, waiting for someone who had peaced out on me and now was barely saying hello. but i didn't want to leave, because that would just seem huffy or dramatic. so i waited 45 minutes or so, caught up on how cute everyone's pets and girlfriends are on instagram, beat a couple people on words w friends, and then finally she was done and everyone was gone and we sat and had a drink and talked and made out till 6am. it was cute. i like her. she's very charming and EXTREMELY hot.

well that was all rad. and then we had a date planned for yesterday but i just psychically knew she was going to flake. i mean, all day i knew for a fact that she was going to text and cancel, but there was the off-chance that i was wrong, so i still cleaned my house and got my nails done. i should mention that the acrylics i already had on were pretty fresh, and still had another good week in them, but they were hellllllla long, definitely too long to be all up in anyone's pussy. except for mine, as i've become an expert at masturbating with super long talons without injuring myself. and they were the very pointy kind, called "stilettos." anyway the prospect of possible sex was enough to make me run not walk to the nail shop and have them cut down to cute but unglamorous shorties.

by 7pm i hadn't heard from her, and one of my co-workers texted to see if i would work. if i wasn't gonna get laid, i would at least like to make money. but i'd rather get laid any day. so i sent the girl a text saying, "we still on for tonight?" and she texted back, "i'm so tired boo. can we hang tomorrow?"

bummed. but unsurprised.

so i worked. i thought it would be mellow because it was a sunday, but since today (monday) is president's day, it was bonkers busy. i made a lot of $$$. i'd say about half of it was from one customer. he was very nice, but after like ten dances i started to *wish* he'd run out of money. strange thing to hope for, i know, but i was just so incredibly bored of dancing for him, and bored of saying "thank you," every time he told me what an incredible body i have, which happened about 5 times during each dance. like, really, after 10 or 15 dances, what do you do without seeming repetitive? plus my quads were KILLING.

eventually he did run out of money. and then i danced for an assortment of other dudes. i was so busy the night flew by very fast and before i knew it, it was closing time. 

there is a cute new dancer who was working. i've worked with her before and she doesn't hustle, and so doesn't make very much money, and so doesn't want to pay for a cab and will WALK home. !!! crazy, right? the last time i worked with her i drove her home, and another time i bullied her into calling a cab. but last night she was super drunk and wouldn't be reasoned with, wouldn't even wait for me to count my money and drive her home, and left the club in a mini-skirt and knee-highs. i was mad at her for making me worry. i wish she'd be smarter. it's LUDICROUS to walk a mile home in a mini-skirt after dancing naked for strangers all night. what a naive cheapskate. i hope nothing happened to her.

so. today i was supposed to have a date with the hot girl since she didn't want to hang out yesterday. i looked forward to seeing her all day, but then she flaked. and you know what? i was bummed for a minute, but i don't actually care. i feel happy to have spent valentine's day with her, and although i'd like to fuck her brains out, i can sense that she must not be that into me. my feelings aren't hurt by this, i'm glad that she's being flaky upfront, before i could really develop a big crush. and i also feel stoked that the SPELL HAS BEEN BROKEN. when i was making out with her, i could literally feel the heavy chains around my heart giving way. for the first time since i got dumped at the end of september, i don't feel like i'm going to die of this broken heart. i still feel a bit bedraggled, but i also feel like it's possible to become attracted to other people. and heart feels lighter in my chest.

Monday, February 11, 2013

mini (working) vaycay

i needed a little trip (and also i had some work planned for my other occupation that i've mentioned to you, but that i don't want to tell you about because it ruin any semblance of anonymity i've managed to maintain in this little blog), so i went down south on friday. i was going to stay a few nights with a friend, but i texted her the night before i left, and she said she was having a crisis and i couldn't stay there. i could've checked with a couple other people, but i don't like asking to stay at someone's house last minute. it feels rude. also i just don't like needing things from people, or asking for things, it feels vulnerable especially when the answer might be "no."  i was stressed out for a minute, but then i decided to just get over it, and i booked a hotel on travelocity. i hate cheap hotels so i got a decent four-star for two nights, which was $300. i had promised myself a bit of shopping, but there went the money i'd set aside, so i decided to put my ad up and see some clients.

the first one was an australian guy with the understated, yet entitled, swagger of the grown up rich kid. he was young-ish and conventionally attractive, with dark curly hair and perfectly straight white teeth bearing the stamp of top notch orthodontia. he was nice enough, but kind of smug in the way that guys who know they're handsome can be sometimes. like you should be super stoked that they are blessing you with their presence. hard to describe unless you've been a ho, but guys like that will always mention to you on the phone that they are "good looking," or "fit and attractive." OR they will send you a picture. like what's the desired response here? do some girls see them for free? or offer a "hot guy discount"? this is not a dating site, i don't need your picture.

i definitely like when guys are well groomed and being hot can be a bonus for sure, but when a guy acts like a conceited jerk, i usually don't find them hot. i am nice to all my clients, and i try to find some attractive thing about every one of them. i'm not nicer to good-looking guys, i am nicer to NICE GUYS. some of my most fun sessions have been with guys who weren't super handsome, but were respectful and had a sexy charm.

so. anyway, this aussie guy wasn't a huge jerk or dangerous,  but he wasn't fun. he was grabby and a little more aggressive than i prefer. oh, and he was shocked and offended that i didn't want him to go down on me. "you don't know what you're missing," he said in a superior, pitying tone. oh well, my loss.

my next client was a guy i've seen before, one of my only black clients. he's a super mellow, especially for a lawyer. he's sweet and really easy, i'm always glad when he calls.

so then i had money again and i didn't feel stressed about shopping. i got some really cute stuff. not very many things, as i'm going more for quality than quantity these days. and i slept late in the fancy bed. and read in the tub, and went and did my other job, and then laid in bed some more and watched the charlie brown valentine's special. and went out for a couple walks in the sun. it was very nice.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

dead deadbeat dad

---disclaimer: this is a personal entry that doesn't have much to do with work. i don't have a personal blog, though, and i needed to write today, so here ya go. don't read it if you don't want to, and i won't ever know.--

well. my father died yesterday. i barely knew him. his visits had been few and far between when i was little, but after he came to visit when i was ten, saying he was gonna move to portland and be a dad, blah blah blah, i never saw him again. he did call one time after that, though, when i was 13. i answered the phone and he acted all chummy, like a regular dad just calling his regular daughter for a regular little chat, instead of a drug-addicted drifter calling his malnourished and neglected daughter after making wild claims then disappearing for years on end.

i said, "you can't just call here, and expect us [my sister and me] to be happy to hear from you."

he said, "i kept trying to call, but your phone's always disconnected."

"well, how about sending some money so it stays on?"

he laughed lightly, pretending i'd made a joke. "take it easy, andi. don't you miss me?"

i was hungry and pissed off. in general. why couldn't i have the kind of absentee dad who at least sent money once in a while? one who cared that his daughters never had enough to eat, shivered all winter without proper coats, and wore the same crappy clothes to school every day? like if you actually cared about your kids, wouldn't you want them NOT to look like orphanage escapees? wouldn't it matter to you that they were living like "the boxcar children," virtually parent-less in a haunted section 8 house with barren cupboards and no working toilet, heat, or refrigerator?

"no," i said. "i don't miss you. i don't even know you."

"you know me: i'm your dad! i'm charlie," he said.

"fine. hi charlie," i said. "why are you calling?"

"i just miss you is all. how are you?" (in his thick brooklyn accent this sounded like, "i juss miss you is awel. how ahhhhh you?")

"i'm ok. but you know what? i don't want to talk to you," i told him. "and neither does [sister's name]."  i didn't know whether she wanted to or not, but i was in the habit of making decisions for the both of us (a necessity in our childhood that became a cause of resentment when we were grown).

"oh," he said.

right then i wanted him to have some news, like "i'm coming to visit." or, "i care about your well-being, so i've decided to start paying child support." some compelling reason to make me want to talk to him. maybe a declaration that he was sorry for never ever being there or claiming us or adding anything at all to our lives, but that that was all about to change because he was deciding to STEP UP.

he had no such declaration. we weren't worth it. he didn't try at all, just threw in the towel right away. "ok," he said. "well. i love you."

"bye," i said, my cheeks piping hot with anger and shame.

before i could hang up, though, he said, "wait! i said 'i love you.' ...don't you love me?"

i didn't think, just blurted, "no. actually i hate you. goodbye."

it felt good to slam down the phone. i really thought he'd call right back and want to work it out. he'd say something that would make me not hate him, and then i could apologize for saying i hated him, and we could get along for a while. that's how my mom did things. she'd get mad and hit everyone and yell a lot, then have something sweet to say and things would be ok for a while. basic survival precluded the luxury of grudge-holding. that you could fully freak out on someone, and then a little later say the right things to make them forgive you, was a total given in our house. (a truly terrible way of relating to loved ones that has snuck along with me into adulthood, btw.)

well, charlie hadn't spent much time in our house, so he didn't know that "i hate you," was code for "please give me a reason to love you." he never called back. my mom liked to say that my meanness was the reason he never called again. but i thought it was that, and also that we were needy strangers and he just didn't feel like it.

so. that was the last time i talked to him.

when i say that i haven't seen him since i was ten, though, that's not exactly true. i must've seen him 12 years later, when i was living in san francisco, because he saw me. by then he and my mom had reconnected through his aunt, who my mom took care of (long story). so he'd call her from time to time. once he called her to ask if my hair was pink and white. he had come to san francisco for methadone and was sleeping on the street (ONE BLOCK AWAY from where i was living) and he swore this girl who walked by him every day was his daughter. don't ask me how he knew that. but maybe it's a thing, that you just recognize your offspring when you see them in the world?

anyway my mom "didn't want to upset me," so she didn't mention it till months later. he had probably moved on by that point, but still i spent some time really looking into the faces of the homeless dudes who lived down the block. after a few days of thinking this guy or that one might be him, i decided i actually didn't want to know, because if i knew who he was, wouldn't i be obligated to help him? i was still so bitter and fucked up over my abusive and destitute childhood that i didn't want to have to help some homeless guy i didn't even know, who just happened to have had a fleeting teenage romance with my mom that left her knocked up with twins. so i changed my route to work, going out of my way to avoid that particular block of shotwell street.

so. that's pretty much it. and then came facebook, and my mom and charlie's sister became friends on it. she harassed me until i added her, as well, but then she made some rude homophobic remarks on one of my pictures so i blocked her. but my mom and she have kept in contact, and the sister has kept my mom up to date on charlie's whereabouts, etc. so for this reason i've known for the last few months that he was dying of liver cancer. and then yesterday he died.

my mom called to tell me and i thought, "wow. that's sad." and i sat around for a little while thinking i didn't actually feel sad about it. i didn't feel glad, or anything like that, but i felt about as sad as when you read in the paper that tragedy has befallen someone you don't know. as a person, a member of humanity, you say, "wow. that's sad." but it's not personal.

so then i got ready and went to work. i felt kind of weird and spaced out but it was an okay night. i felt some feelings creeping in, so i decided to drink, which i haven't been doing for a while. i told a customer he looked like steve carell, and he got super offended so i said, "well at least you're not funny, too, because then the resemblance would just be uncanny." that allowed me to chuckle to myself for a while, and i just kept working all night without feeling anything, and then came home and went to bed.

but then when i got up today i felt unexpectedly heavy and sad. it's sad that this guy, my father, died without ever getting to know his smart and awesome daughters. it's sad that the last thing i ever said to him was that i hated him, especially when i didn't ever know him enough to hate him and was just disappointed and angry. also liver cancer is supposed to be a terrible way to go. it's sad when anyone dies a painful death, especially with no home. at least his sister had taken him in these last few months. but how must it feel for your life to end on someone's couch? even though i didn't know him, it doesn't feel to me like a stranger died. i feel like a person who could've meant something to me has died. someone who could've truly loved me and had a lot of my love in return. i'm not stingy with it. give me an inch, and i'll give you a mile.

and i'm having all the old feelings of being a snowball melting on its solo flight through space. i don't know when i came up with that particular image, but it kinda perfectly describes how i feel as someone with no partner or close every-day friends, a family who doesn't talk to me anymore, and a mom who is always so out of it on pills or methadone that you can barely talk to her, let alone count on her for anything at all. more like a weird older sister who is nice sometimes, but has made it clear that you're not her problem. i don't often allow myself to get caught up in these feelings, but i called out of work today for the first time in 3 years, and am just letting myself have a sad day.