Typed on my phone last night . . .

It feels like a dare. Sitting at a terrible bar, drinking terrible things, now alone. 

He’s outside, he said, talking to his father. The reality: who knows.

I think about moments in my life, choices I have made, and I wonder a bit how i ended up here. With this man. Sitting alone at a bar with an empty shot glass and a full miller light in front of me. 

The band playing is like a parody of intensely shitty bar bands. He’s actually singing pride and joy. Like sincerely. It’s more than I can handle.

I’ve now been alone for long enough I wonder if he left. 


He returned as I typed.

Long enough for the artist on stage to freak out and storm off. Long enough for the club’s host to make an announcement I applauded.  Long enough for us to giggle a little. 

Then he walked outside again. 

He said he wasn’t feeling well — mentioned “dry heaves” while he was talking to his father, during their traditional post-game check in — and went out for air.  I had to go to the bathroom, and I really wanted to him to wait. But he didn’t. 

I watched him walk out. Stand in the doorway . . . and then I lost sight of him. 

I waited a few minutes before asking the bartender to watch our drinks as I went to the bathroom. 

When I came back, he was still gone. I know I waited too long. 

I texted him at 1130 “did you leave?”  I heard back from him 11 minutes later: “Just got ticketed by cop for vomitin.g in allllly” and then an equally misspelled version of going home. 

I left — our tab was closed — I wandered off into the night looking for him, calling him, worried he was passed out somewhere, throwing up somewhere, or in custody. 

I walked the 4 downtown blocks from the bar to his building and never found him. I called him. I nearly went to the concierge to check to see if he’d made it, but that felt like a violation of his privacy. Or trust. Or something. 

I finally sent a couple of texts and then headed off to find a cab. 

But I’d made a mistake. Rather than pick up a cab at the hotel two blocks from his building, I walked a little further west. And right out of the cab zone. 

It took me nearly an hour to get home on foot, pausing frequently to look for cabs, check my phone, freak out. 

This was wildly unpleasant. And it capped a rather disappointing afternoon. 

I like this guy, I actually do. I introduced him to my friend SD, a software developer. And it was nice. Until it wasn’t.

None of us had really eaten and things went sideways after a couple of hours. 

Like really sideways. 

Being with BV is hilarious and entertaining, until late last night when it really, really wasn’t.  We’ve all gotten ill, we’ve all miscalculated how much we’ve had to drink vs eat. We’ve struggled to stave off nausea (or not) when we’ve calculated wrong.

But last night being with him was weird the whole time.  He was a little standoffish — which made sense as we were with one of my guy friends in a sports bar, and I was probably quite standoffish, too — but, he was comfortable enough we me to fake-flirt with the waitress, who real-flirted back to the amusement of BV and SD.  At one point when BV got up from the table, I leaned over to SD and said, I expect you two will have a lot of fun together . . . and I don’t want to know anything about it.

It was so very different from our last Sunday together, which was filled with romance and acknowledgement of a shared and soon-to-be-fulfillled passion, to watching a football game that was quite intense, drinking a little too much too fast, and then wandering off for a last beer before heading home.

During which he became ill.

And got a ticket.

And left.

He left me in safety.  I foolishly wandered away from the luxury hotels that dot that particular district where both he and SD live and in which cabs are plentiful.  I put myself in danger as I was worried about him.

As for the future, who knows.

I may never speak with him again, or we may speak frequently as we did all week. It’s hard to say, it’s new, and I am very busy.