Self-indulgent musings of a social retard.

It's strange how one bizarre, out of character event can define you in someone else's opinion.

We had planned to spend the holiday together. Bink would spend the night at at a friend's house, and he would come to the City from San Jose.

A couple of days before though, I could tell it was getting weird for him because he was telling me that he was sleeping with three people. Now, at the time I was thinking "he's telling me this because he wants me to know that he's not really interested in getting involved with me." But of course, in my typical fashion, I didn't ask him that straight out. I just made some smart-ass remarks, and mumbled some stuff under my breath.

So, the day before we were supposed to get together, he called me to say he had some stuff to do and therefore wouldn't see me the next day. Goodbye.

I was so floored. And pissed. And hurt. Etc. What the fuck? I went over to a Mel's, since she was going to babysit and got Bink. The whole time I was ranting about him. Working myself into more and more of a state of...I don't know, judgemental absence? I said "I'm going to his house and have it out with him."

After I got home, I got the car and drove to San Jose. I had never been there before, so I was just kind of driving aimlessly looking for his address, my heart pounding.

Miracle of all miracles, I found it. The kid asleep in the backseat, the dog in back too. I get out and knock on the door. Here's where it gets fun. One of his housemates answers. I ask for him. He knocks on his door. We hear "Go away." I say to his housemate "I'm not going anywhere." He kinda shrugs and leaves me in the living room. I knock on his door again. I can hear him in there, and he ain't alone. I can hear him fucking some chick. He yells "Who the fuck is it?" I take a deep breath and say "Jamie, it's me." He flipped. He told me (through the door) to get out of his house and never come back or else he's calling the police. It's funny for me to think back on, because I think that it was at that precise moment, that my sanity decided to make a reappearance. Oh my god. What the hell was I doing? What was I thinking? Why didn't anyone stop me?

I ran out of the house. I went to the car to check on the "kids." Both fine.

I walked around the block. I wasn't able to breathe much less drive. I needed a couple of minutes. Rounding the corner, I see him walking his girl out to her car, which I am parked directly behind. He's looking apologetic and embarrassed. She leaves. He goes back into the house. I get into the car. I'm still shaking. I can't start the engine. I put in PJ Harvey's "Is This Desire," and put my head down on the steering wheel.

There's a tap at my window. Jamie. He's come out (with his roommate at a close distance to intervene in case, presumably, I do something [else] rash.)

He asks me to please leave. I tell him that I will leave. I just need a couple of minutes. He says "You know what?" "What?" "When you were in my house, this is what I was listening to." I immediately take the tape out.

I try to apologize, but it's too bizarre. How does one apologize for completely invading someone's personal space like that.

We talked for a couple of minutes through the window. I guess he felt safer, because he told his roommate to go back in. I got out of the car, and we talked on the curb for another 45 minutes. He was most disturbed, rightly so, that I knew where he lived. He never told me specifically. Not that he wouldn't have, but he hadn't.

Unfortunately for him, and as it turns out me, we had just had this training at work on doing prospect research and getting their info. When Drew was looking for samples to use, I gave him Jamie. He had been on my mind, so why not right? Now I know why not. I was a closet psycho waiting for an opportunity to come out.

The opportunity was my fearfulness. I was so afraid of having a real conversation with him. All the "what ifs" in my mind took over, so I wasn't real.

I suspect that my psyche will always be too fragile to deal with him in any real way. God, I have loved him since 1990. My life has taken me in many directions, and there have [obviously] been other loves and lovers. He has always been special to me. For our paths to cross again after 10 years, and several moves was nothing short of miraculous.

I know that since I'm the first person he had sex with, that I hold a "historical" significance in his life, but I want so much to be more than a historical footnote.

He inspires me in ways he has no idea. His pursuit of his artistic dreams is amazing. I hadn't gone on an audition or taken an acting class in years. His example has led me to sign up with an acting teacher. Get back on the horse, I guess. My moving to New York is a big part of that. I know that I could never be happy if theatre weren't a big part of my life. He reminded me of that.

I want to cry when I think about the fact that he told me [via e-mail] that he's freaked out about what happened and doesn't want us to communicate anymore. He doesn't want me in his life.

I was so thankful that "God" had brought him back into my life.

I am reminded that "God has a sick sense of humour, and when I die, I expect to find him laughing."

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