When I returned to Greenpoint, I met a former friend that I haven't seen or spoken to for a year, save bumping into him on the street when he was very drunk in July. It wasn't surprising that he was very drunk last night -- his birthday was Friday -- and though the night didn't begin so badly, it ended horribly. He couldn't stop touching me and giving me cursory kisses, and the night took a turn for the worse when I excused myself to sit at the other end of the bar next to a neighbor. He (the former friend, not neighbor) repeated "I want to stick it in her" to anyone within hearing distance, so I yelled at him and stormed off. My neighbor followed me. I invited him to my apartment for some water and to explain the whole history with the former friend. I cried, he took my hand, and then he tried to stay the night. I kicked him out.
I'm so disgusted by everything today. Why couldn't I have met the Punk Rope people after graduating college? Instead, I wound up with the Poker Stoner Buddies and wasted a year with people who should have never been on my radar in the first place.
On a positive note, I started Dirty Secret on the train back to Greenpoint after the party, and as I got up for my stop the man sitting opposite me asked how the book was.
"Great," I answered. "I know the author."
"I could tell it was good," he said, "you didn't look up once."
I'm really looking forward to learning how Jessie deals with her "dirty secret" -- that her mom is a compulsive hoarder -- because ever since Labor Day, when I admitted to the person I was dating that my
After last night, however, the last thing I want is intimacy.