We were on our way to dinner, then the park, then to see Janice and the gang over at Karen's, for a quick drink before midnight would arrive. "You better get moving. You better get started now." Me: "Huh?" "This isn't really great snowball snow. It's kind of icy. You better move."
He hates me. I swear sometimes, sometimes, he hates me. He loathes me. I am a hold-your-breath I-just-can't-stand-it sort of irritant to him. He is polite. He can do a good 24 hours with me. 12 at least. We are great that first 12. Good the first 24. I find myself thinking, "What did I DO?" Always. I can never quite pinpoint it. I almost feel a panic. It does me no service to inquire. That wall goes up, it is up. He's good.
In vino veritas. Early on, I preferred Spence when he would drink. 'Preferred' is not the correct term. He would loosen up. He would talk. Most importantly, that wall would lower a bit, and he would volunteer endearing sentiments. This came at the time I was newly falling in love with him. I welcomed the sentiments regardless of their design. We all know the drinking was problematic. It does seem ironic it was the isolation I experianced when I'd lose him to drink that I initially took issue with. Greg, like all the others, like myself, like all of us, loosens up with a few drinks. Odd though. He never needed to loosen up before. Now, this wall. He hates me. All I could conclude before was that I was just such a disappointment, his irritation just seeped out of him. He started getting odd and distant before I went out last time though. All it took was me becoming fully engaged in our relationship/friendship, and he got queer. I suppose, after a few things he's said, he is as perplexed with my behavior as I am his. Ten years of silence is how he perceives me, and now, here I am. I do fear I will lose him to all of this. I will lose my ten years. I know I never would have had my studio back without him. I know he provided a rock for me to tether myself to when I had no idea what direction the storm was taking me. But here I am. I have lost him by finally, and actually, showing up.