Round and Round

Last night I found myself passed out in front of the Smithsonian Art Building downtown. Well I went out to the bar which I haven’t been in like seven months. I don’t go out on Wednesdays anymore because I always felt it was too much drama. Anyways, I decided to go out because I was bored and I just gotten fired the week before and I had nothing to do the next day.

I told myself before I went out that I wasn’t going to get drunk. I was only to take five dollars with me because the drinks were free from 10-11, but I ended up grabbing a twenty out of my wallet, just in case. I didn’t want to be stuck at the bar wanting a drink and not being able to have a drink. I guess that was my first mistake.

My thing with drinking these days is the type of liquor. I used to cheap the cheapest crap I could find. It wasn’t until I started drinking what I would consider quality rum that the hangovers weren’t so bad. I went back to Bacardi because it seems to agree with my body more, but is still not say I don’t overdo it. But cheap liquor I find dangerous. It’s that rotgut, it makes you crazy. I guess that was my second mistake last night was the cheap liquor at the bar. Of course my limit of just four drinks turned to about ten drinks. I started feeling good. I wasn’t angry or anything. I fought feverously the voices in my head that begged for me to start something stupid shit like a fight. Of course by the end of the night, I was failing miserably trying to be a decent drunk. I got into some arguments with some idiots. It was as if I picked up where I left off the last time I was at the bar. I thought I had changed.

I guess that was my main problem last night realizing that even after almost of year of disappearing from the scene, I came back and nothing had change. It was the same people. I mean some of them had gotten a little fatter or older but in the dark and cocktails it was like time was still. I seemed to be really upset that nothing had evolved. I don’t know what I was looking for. I guess I was looking to see how much I changed hadn’t been away for so long in AA meetings, therapy and recovery. But it was so easy to go back when I started drinking. I didn’t want to feel like I didn’t belong anymore. The bar used to be my friend and I missed it.

I was in the bathroom and I was staring in the mirror when a bunch of young queens burst in the door. The stood behind me as I washed my hands. I just happened to look up and see their youthful faces clash with my aging eyes. I guess when they looked in the mirror they just saw their perfect smiles, small waistline, not the truth. They were young, the truth would come later. I stared in the mirror and realized how much time has passed staring into that mirror. I’ve seen myself in the mirror for five years. I seen me desperately try to hold on to the frivolousness of youth but time is sober. I remember smiling in that mirror behind the young queens and I knew I was no long part of that reality anymore. I was just an aging drunk. I had become the old man.

I left the bar and head home. I felt conflicted. I was still in the transition trying to figure where I belonged in the black gay community again. When I was younger, it was because I was young and cute and others acted like that was enough. It wasn’t enough. I thought to myself I should be happy with my life because not once did I have to flirt for a drink, not once did I feel as if I had anything to prove but I was still lonely. I guess that was what it was, I was lonely. Old men don’t find comfort so fast because no one is trying to save them.

I got home and I just wanted to cuddle up with my ex. I remember when it used to feel as if he was holding me back, that I felt he was ruining my sex life pushing the monogamy thing. Now, I sometimes can’t wait to get to him. The world isn’t so easy for me anymore. I just want to get home because I know at least one person still sees me. When I got home, I was drunk and convinced myself I was angry. I didn’t know why. I guess I felt my ex hadn’t been paying me enough attention. When I got out of my clothes and got in bed with him I could feel him stiffened like someone covering their nose from a stench. I probably reeked up liquor. I lay next to him naked, pulled him closer but he refused. He woke up and yelled at me that I was drunk. He wasn’t in the mood. I got pissed off. I felt that he should just accept the situation, that all I was going to do was passed out. But he wanted to argue about it. I decided to get up and get dress and go to my apartment. But it was three o’clock in the morning which meant I was going to have to wait until the Metro opened. I got dressed and left. I was so pissed. All I wanted was some damn affection. I didn’t find in the bar. I didn’t find it with my ex. So I got downtown and the Metro was closed. I went to the steps of Smithsonian to just wait it out. I passed out on the step. The six o’clock morning sun woke me up. And then suddenly it all seemed so stupid again. I knew I was going to have to apologize to my ex. I decided to go back to his apartment and go to sleep. For him, it was just another night. For me, it was the desperation of change and not knowing exactly how to handle it. The life I knew had ended, I was somewhere in limbo.