Splash after midnight. Manicured boys in designer jeans and t-shirts grinding together to mixed top 40 hits, while the muscled bartenders in tight underwear serve up extra stout drinks. The red and blue and yellow stobes bouncing to the beat, off clouds of fog released from hidden vents every 5 minutes. A perfect mixture of obscurity and confusion to fuel the passions raging between strangers.
James, Jason, and I sit in the bar below. James sips on his beer, while Jason and I partake of Shirley Temples. I am restless and cranky. It's been a long day. Hot. Chauvanistic. Long. Boring.
Long.
Jason goes upstairs to dance. James and I relax. We talk about plans for the week, restaurants, and what's happening over my vacation. He tells me he's going to Yo La Tengo on the 12th, with his ex. I remember him mentioning this show to me...if I wanted to go, awhile back. I well jealously welling up in my gut.
"She asked me to go a couple of months ago..."
I try not to say anything or let it bother me. But, im cranky. It's been a long day. Maybe he can tell im a little hurt. Why am I hurt? There is no reason to be. I know he loves me. But, I'm hurt. I feel like crying and running out into the street. I chalk it up to the pill. Perhaps a slightly high dosage, or something in the one from today. I Tell him I'm a little jealous. "You, are, huh?"
Nothing more.
"You're not upset with me because I told you that.." We're walking upstairs to start setting up for filming the Cher impersonation show. "No. why would I be...would you be upset if I told you that?"
"No."
I still feel self conscious. I NEVER want to be a jealous-possessive girlfriend. I always feel incredibly guilty about any such feelings. I think they are wrong, and if I was confident that I wouldnt have them. That makes me even more uncertain, because now, not only am i envious of their date (again, no reason to be ..other than hes spending his friday night on MY vacation with her..and thats OK!!--conk conk), im uncertain about myself. lame.
I push the thoughts from my head and take my post by the tiled pole. James is being sweet. Im standing on this small table, above the bobbing heads of a hundred sweating gay boys. James holds my legs so I wont fall. He scratches my toes. Jason joins us again. I'm feeling better. I film the show.
We take a cab uptown. I try to eat the mac and cheese, but James pulls me away. Im in the bathroom. James is at the computer. I make a mad dash across the room, leaping from the bathroom onto the bed towards the mac and cheese pot. James grabs me mid-lunge. Not fast enough. I decide it's better not to eat too much mac and cheese, and pass out.