Giving Mr. Sam another Chance

Since the last time I wrote about Mr Sam a lot has developed. The following week he did text me and carried on as if nothing had ever happened.
REALLY?!barefoot wine
I was indignant that he felt he could just go away with no reason or excuses for leaving me alone that Friday at the bar. He said that he wanted space, away from everybody and everything after I informed him of the rumor about him.

We met mid-week at the bar for cocktails. We continued to text during the evenings. We discussed our friendship. He made his desires known. I was too afraid to put my cards on the table. He is just so kind, sensitive and it still troubles me that there is something about him I can’t put my finger on. Maybe that’s what holds me to this friendship. Yet there is still a part of his personality that makes me nervous. The statements he makes, texting him during the evening makes me ask if he doesn’t drink more than I suspect. After some lengthy discussions I decided to give him another chance.

Deep inside my being I know that I am trying to find a replacement for Charlie. I know that is an impossibility that I must come to terms with. Recently I was told that Charlie is terminal. I have yet to confirm this.
I showed up at the bar first, sat down & talked to acquaintances. There were a few female acquaintances that get together in the early evening for cocktails and camaraderie. He came in a few hours afterward and sat down next to me. I introduced him to the group of acquaintances, he can hold his own during our conversation. He is witty, pleasant and easy-going. He was later referred to as “a long-haired leaping gnome” because he has that look. One of my acquaintances asked me to go with her into the lady’s room in which she went on to yell at me.
“STOP flirting with Mr. Sam!! He’s really  fascinating, I sort of like him and I’m struggling to get a read on him, but he seems fascinated with YOU!!!”
“I donno what you’re talking about.”
I guess maybe we’re not doing a good job at managing to keep the physical attraction under cover. I observed more people looking at us closely. FUCK! It’s entertaining to flirt and I’m enjoying good old fashion passion & lust that I’ve experienced.
Before the night was over, one of the PHG chicks walked in the bar and milled around us. She finally sat down at the table with us, only paying attention to Mr. Sam & I attempt to appear casual. I don’t believe we performed successfully. She left while we hung around for some of the opportunity to leave together. Unfortunately we didn’t have the freedom to chat because I left before he could. He felt sorry for one of my drunken friends who carried on about her ex-boyfriend. He remained behind to watch her. I gave up. I had way too much to drink that evening. My judgement was cloudy. I’m so glad that on this evening nothing happened.

Read about Mr. Sam from the beginning.

 

 

 

 

What did I do Now?

Mr. Sam & I have talked over the last few days. It’s always fun learning about people, making new friends and the process of it all. It does become more difficult as we get older, making new friends and bringing them into our present lives.

Mr. Sam has been an interesting one. There has always been something about him that I haven’t been able to put my finger on. I hate that, whatever “it” is about him eludes me.

I had heard rumors about him from an acquaintance, this somewhat prevented me from getting any closer to him, out of fear of my attachment issues. I tried to keep my distance-emotionally that is. [Borderlines have that fear of rejection & abandonment. This sensation can cause the Borderline to act out, become desperate to prevent the pain of being left. The actions can easily get out of control. Basically anything to numb the pain that we feel. Add in the mix that we became upset with the person who left us].

Unfortunately I couldn’t keep from getting addicted to his attention. At first it wasn’t a daily conversation, maybe once or twice a week normally at night when I was getting ready for bed. He would text me. We would text much about nothing. How he understood me, how he wanted to see the real me. He wanted to get passed my high walls & shields so that he could see the real me. I thought “hell, there is no real me!” Looking back the conversations weren’t really all that moving. He did try to comfort me when I was feeling low, he tried to make me laugh and smile. But there are few men that can accomplishment that with the greatest of ease. To me that’s a talent, making someone laugh & smile who doesn’t want but does anyway because they can’t help it.

Sam increased his communication with me, it became nightly. Reading some of his texts I asked myself “how much as he had to drink?” I hear my other half in my head…”you attract drunks, they are fascinated by you, full of drama which you crave.” So I figured that Mr. Sam probably fit into this group. I’ve seen him drunk because there were a few times the PHC had gotten together for dinner and drinks. He’s been coming on strong in the past few days. In the beginning he kept talking about wanting someone who is “the one.” I kept telling him “it’s not me!” I know damn well I’m too crazy for most men. For some reason, this group of men that I attract seem to think that they have the ability to cope with my crazy.

Mr. Sam would say “too old to play games” later he changed his tune to be happy with friends with bennies. I really had no intentions on that, but it was a fun little fantasy. He would include a lot of sexual innuendo in our conversations, but the conversations were never really to in-depth. Which to me was disappointing. The main thing he wanted to see is “the real me.” I had to laugh because there is only one person who has gotten to see the real me. They battled demons, jumped hoops and walked on fire rocks to get to see the real me and this derp thinks that I’m gonna just open the door and say “come on in.”

I told him that the circle he has traveled in has betrayed his trust and told one of his secrets. Eventually, the story slipped out, Sam was extremely upset even though he denied what I was told about him. We were still friends up until I joked and said “maybe I shouldn’t talk to you anymore.” He replied with “your choice.” That was the last I heard from him.

What upsets me the most is that I started to believe what he told me. I try to keep these kind of men away, arm’s distance about he was really nice. I thought in some way I could replace Charlie, but I was a fool. It did take a few days for me to get my feelings back to baseline.

Continue Reading about Mr. Sam

Meet Mr Sam

I was at the bar when I noticed a tall silver-haired man walk by. I said to my friends that he wasn’t bad-looking. They both agreed. I jokingly mentioned how I would love to play around with him once or twice. So T1 walks over to him and introduces himself, next thing he introducing himself to me.

WTF?! Note to self: Don’t say anything like that in front of T1 again!

Then T2 walks over to him and they are having a nice little chat. Later on at some point they became Facebook friends. Whaaaa? Ok. I thought maybe “Sam Elliot” isn’t attracted to women, since he seems to be really chatting it up with T1 & T2.

I put him out of my head, I needed to focus on my upcoming trip and other things. A few weeks later, I had walked into the watering hole after I returned from New Orleans. There was Sam sitting there by himself. I decided to put on a bit of a show since I just got back and I was talking to Charlie’s best friends.

I noticed him watching me out of the corner of his eye. So, I leaned over to him and acknowledged him. I kind of played dumb. “It’s Sam, right?”henrys hard soda, alcohol, the bar

“Yes, You’re Cat. Friends with the PHC.”

“In the flesh!” I said with a giggle.

I gave him a few minutes more of my time. We made small talk, about email addresses and he was interested in me taking pictures of his art work. I kind of just blew him off, because I don’t take anything anyone says in a bar seriously if I don’t know them that well. I then continued my conversation with Charlies friends and we ended up walking out together.

That ended my brief meeting with Sam. The next time I seen him was with a group of mutual friends. It was a dinner, we really didn’t speak all that much. He did try to talk to me more than before, I noticed there was what seemed to be a competition between him and another one of the friends. Each one sat on each side of me. I felt elated.  One thing I did notice is that Sam never offers to buy me a drink. All the other guys that I hang with, even Charlie’s crew offer to buy me at least one drink. But this guy doesn’t.

We started talking about music, oldies and he asks me “what’s the best concert you ever attended?” I smiled because I’m normally the one who asks questions like that, to get a conversation going. The best moment was when I gave him my first test. “Tell me a story.” I said to him. He asked “No restrictions?”

“Nope.”

He went on with his story. I don’t remember what he shared with me, because I was shocked & thrilled that he actually was creative enough to come up with a story. He asked me a few other questions. We talked most of the night, until we heard “LAST CALL!!”

All the drunks stumbled out of the bar into the parking lot. I kept walking, waving and yelling “See you guys next week!”

Read More about Mr. Sam

Leave Before You Act [BFMH2016]

My friend text me wanting to get a drink. As usual she wants to visit the dive bar where Charlie & I hang out. She droves across town for a few drinks. I agree to have a drink with her, as I approach the bar I see Billy standing outside. “Charlie’s inside.”

WHAT???

Did he just say Charlie is inside? Should I be angry that Charlie lied to me about not being there at night. It was a little after 7pm, he also said that he would only be there on the weekends. WTF?! Now, I’m caught off guard. This started to eat at me, before I could even get a handle on the situation. As my friend opened the bar door I looked briefly in to the bar. Charlie is standing with his back to the door. She walks in, I wait until a few minutes later, still talking to Billy about shit.

I see another one of Charlie’s crew members, Bud. He walks in, sits down and looks at me from across the bar. He had a blank look on his face. Kind of pissed off, kind of angry and one of don’t talk to me. Sunday, I had mentioned to Charlie that one night that Bud was super drunk and had kind of hit on me to go with him to another bar. I laughed “as if.” And now that Charlie’s back, he’s already talked to everyone, or most of them. I can bet that Charlie has already talked to Bud about what I said. FUCK! ARGH! My fault for telling Charlie – anything.

Astro walks out, we don’t speak. I think its eating at him that I don’t talk to him now. I guess I don’t really need to. I’m sitting there drinking my drink, listening for Charlie’s voice. I watch him in the mirror shooting pool. He never comes over to me, nor I to him. I don’t even look around the bar. My friend babbles on about what’s going on with me. And stuff she feels she needs to share with me. I can feel the emotional overload brewing in my gut.

Instead of having some sort of outburst, I tend to run to my safe place. But before I could do that Astro comes over to me. “Can I talk to you a minute, outside?”

NOW WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!?!

We walk outside, I see Charlie watching from across the room but makes no effort to come see what’s going on. Astro starts in on me about the last time we had a conversation. How he knew he pissed me off, but he was trying to keep me safe, blahblahblah. He went on to say that I need to be careful with the women that I’ve hung around with, because it’s not good. WHAT? WHAT? Are you telling me the drunks in a dive bar are judgmental? That I’m being judged by the people I drink with? FUCKIN’ Kidding me! He just gave me a bush of bullshit excuses as to why he did what he did to me. I told him I made a mistake that night, I will never do it again. I wont ever ask him for anything again. I ended the conversation with “we’re good.” I’m not really but there’s nothing more to say.

I walk back to my friend, “You were out there a really long time? What’s wrong? You ok?” I guess I’m not good at hiding my emotions. It’s really easy to see it all in my eyes. I said “Yea, I’m good, but I gotta leave.”

She starts in “Tell me what’s going on. You can’t leave.”

The night spiraled too quickly out of control for me. I started to feel disgusted sitting there in that shit hole dive bar. She kept pressuring me to tell her. FUCK I hate that shit. If I wanted you to know, fuck I’d tell you. She tosses out “well if you’re gonna start keeping secrets than I’m gonna not tell you stuff.” Motherfuck. Really?! She doesn’t tell me shit about shit and maybe I’m a shitting friend for not asking or even worse for not caring. I think it’s a shitty friend. If I cared I would ask, right?

I wanted to scream at her. Can’t do that, right? I wanted to run home and emotionally vomit on my beloved. I felt like I can’t breath, better yet like you have to puke, but you’re trying to hold it in until you get to the toilet for the release. Yeah, that’s how I felt.

I don’t like it when a friend pressures me in to doing something I don’t want do to. Like when I wanted to leave the bar because I no longer felt comfortable there. Instead of just saying “OK…” with some simple add-on statement they have to start asking & demanding an explanation about why I wanna leave. Friends, I think would have said “yea, sure we’ll finish catching up later.”

I can’t tell her what I know. She says “I didn’t know that Charlie was back, when did he get back?” I know all the back story but I can’t tell her nor do I want to. I tried to explain to her in some words about this specific dive bar. That I noticed the judgement from the others in the bar when I am with who ever. She mumbles at me “So We’re just here hanging a drink, that’s all.” She doesn’t get how cliquish that place is, how they all look at who am I with, they look at why is she there. I know it’s for Charlie and most people are starting to figure that out. Sure she knows a lot of people, but I also notice that she doesn’t have a lot of friends.  I guess I’m tired of this bar. I thought I wanted to be in the know, but not anymore. It’s a lot of work to be popular, even among the drunks. I just don’t want to be bothered with it anymore. Leave while you’re on top.

I did leave after telling her that I would explain at a later date. I gave her a hug and walked out the front door, not looking back to see Charlie I just left. A part of me was praying that he was waiting outside the back door, but he wasn’t. I haven’t heard from him since Tuesday when I got a text from him. UGH. Emotions, I hate them.walking the dog

My emotions are somewhat raw today. I did some exercising this morning to get the hormones moving. I took the dog for a long walk to clear my head. It did for a like a minute. I know that I need a good nights rest since last night I didn’t have one. Need to eat properly, which I have been, no sweets.

Looking back at the night. I had one drink in 45 minutes. I didn’t want anymore. I didn’t crave any more. I knew that any more alcohol in an emotional state could have serious consequences. I came home, waited for my beloved to get ready for me to emotionally vomit on him, but he took too long. Fuel to the already smoldering fire. I just want a new place to go to have a drink. I don’t want to go back there anymore. I just can’t process the judgmental boozeheads…..

Examples of BPD symptoms in the above are…

  • Wanting to Yell at Someone. You might want to yell & scream at someone to relieve your emotional pressure that’s building. Suggestion is to remove yourself from the situation as soon as you feel those urges building & brewing inside you.
  • Feeling Disgust.

Helpful Hints

  • Find a constructive way of releasing it. Talking it over with someone you care about works wonders.
  • Work through the situation, find what triggered you to get emotional. Make a mental note for the future.
  • Finding out where the feeling of disgust is stemming from. Is it moral or environmental?

Alcohol helps make New Acquaintances…

Since Charlie has been gone from my life, I have needed to replace my drinking partner. It’s not always easy to do. A person who clicks with me isn’t always the easiest to find. Not to mention the high that I need when I’m out drinking with my drinking buddy.

[TRIGGER WARNING; for those who have issues with Alcohol & bar life.]

Charlie & I had a game that was all our own. Since he’s been 86’ed from “the hole” life there hasn’t been the same for me. I miss him. I miss sitting at the cool table. It’s not actually the cool table it’s more like the area of the bar where the cool, important patrons sit. I don’t sit there anymore. I haven’t been treated like an outcast (yet). I still get the respect from the cool kids. It’s just not the same, ya know?

There are only a few bartenders that I actually know and am comfortable with. They know what I drink and are friendly to me. They don’t stand there & talk to me like they do the others. They acknowledge who I am, now that the name Charlie is no longer spoken it’s pretty calm in there. One of his former crew members approached me “Can we talk outside?” Those sitting around me gasped for air. I didn’t panic because I hadn’t done nor said anything wrong. I think. Not this time anyway. “Do you know Dashing Johnny?”

“No, why?”

“FUCK! Charlie better not be screwing me over again with some bullshit. Your name got bought up for a reference for Dashing Johnny.”

“Ah, no. Don’t know him. Sorry.”

“My apologizes, I just thought I’d check out it.”

“Ok. Cool.”

I stood there with a dumb look on my face as he lit a cigarette. Other patrons walked out to smoke & I took that as my cue to return inside.

I met a friendly older woman there who Charlie had mentioned to be cautious of. He spoke of her in riddles, never came out and said exactly what he meant. He made it clear that I was to be careful of her. She’s funny, smart and looks a bit worn.  She also has health issues, which can be made worse when drinking & smoking.

We went for a drink that turned into a few more.

I should probably start referring to her as tileface. She ends up on the bathroom floor, not every time but its to the point where almost all the bar patrons know how she is.  She’s that friendly older woman who “loves it when you buy me shots.” If someone buys me a drink, that’s great. I’m not one to buy them for others, mostly for just my drinking buddy.Barefoot and casamigos

Drinking my new drink “Barefoot Spritzer” and she’s drinking something with Jack in it. We chatted. I also met another chick who is covered in scars from where she had cut herself several times over. There are tattoos that cover her skin as well. She stops by after work before she heads home. She is a woman who will not be afraid to admit that she’s a slut. That she calls the shots to her life, dependent on no one for whatever she needs. However, I still see the pain in her eyes. After talking to her I realize that she was the one that Charlie had moved in with last year when I had broken my foot. He told me he was using her because she was willing to give him a warm place to sleep, cook his meals, transport him places. She shared that she quickly grew tired of being used and kicked him out.

I start to lose her voice in a sea of bar noise I look across the bar to the cool table. I see Charlie’s former crew looking at me. I swear I almost felt their judgment, judging me for sitting here talking to “the cutter.” Most of the patrons know her reputation & they know she cuts herself. Should I judge her for that? Nope. We continue to share stories about the high of sex. She asked me if I am a sex addict. I revealed some of my sex experiences to her. Nothing too detailed just enough to let her know we have something in common. However, I’m no longer that person. That person only exists in my memories, that person who got drunk and fucked strangers was someone who needed to feel something because numbness & emptiness. I feel for her.

I had drank enough to feel a wonderful buzz. The bartender had given me a shot of Casamigos. George Clooney’s tequila. Made in Jalisco Mexico where my family is from, tastes so smooth going down cold. It was the kick I needed to push my buzz over the edge. You know that feeling, when you can talk to total strangers, when you think you can dance and that everybody wants you. LOL. I become friendly, touchy and loud. I continued to enjoy my buzz for just a little while longer…