What went right today? The appointment with Philip Beansprout. That’s about it. Everything else was a mess. Well waking up and starting up the day was good, Bill’s loving arms were very good but I had to tear myself away from them as I always have to. I also sent an email to Mark who placed me at Wanker Banker to take me out of the running for that other job. It’s not because of the proximity that Bill and I would have to each other, it’s mainly because I just didn’t want to have to start jumping through hoops again, decided to give McMann and Tate a year. And today I regretted telling Mark to forget it.
Man that seems to have been a mistake. I really can’t take this dysfunctional workplace anymore. I got a phone call from a Wanker Banker employee in San Francisco, Jessica Locke. She’s always been supportive of me and left wing causes. We provided the liberal (read radical) voices in a chorus of conservatism. She’s having another baby and that was good news. I mentioned the fact that a conservative investment bank will take Bill on as my partner and enable him to have a part in my insurance benefits, yet an oh so hip advertising branding consultancy will not. If he was a woman and my spouse he could be covered. I should have looked into that before I left Wanker Banker. But I didn’t and Bill is unprotected.
McMann and Tate are driving me crazy. I can see why Felicia asked me during the interview if I could make a commitment for more than three months. I guess three months is de rigueur for front desk personnel. I can barely get past two months. These people are loathsome. I have a theory that they were nerds in high school and were picked on as most everyone was. But it’s sure is a weird situation where people barely look at you and can’t even say hello. It’s getting to the point where if I see people I don’t like walking in my direction, I pull out my cell phone and look at it as if I had a text message or a call. A 3 and a half inch piece of circuitry and plastic is better to look at than them.
Such a trendy crowd too, with their Diesel jeans cuffed about four to six inches. It does look ridiculous, I mean, do you go out and buy a pair of jeans with a 34 waist and a 40-inch inseam? And they’re men. Straight men at that!
It’s true, if they said good morning to me, or even a hello I would probably singing a different tune, albeit slightly. Perhaps a remixed tune, 12 inch DJ only promo copy. But they don’t. I have to pick up after these people and they can’t meet me half way, meaning perhaps turning around and putting it in the garbage can instead of leaving it for me to throw it out for them. If they were pleasant and said something kind or socialable as they exhaled, c’mon, it only take less than five seconds really.
They see me moving stuff around and they stand in my way and when I say excuse me, they act as if I were begging for one of their kidneys. And I have to support them, being support staff. I’d rather be a staph infection if that’s the way it’s going to be.
I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there. I strolled through Soho into the Village and smoked my Padron. I hoped to see Bill before the session but he had to run an errand to his parents apartment where he was spending the night. I sat in front of the building where Bill and I used to see Philip. It’s where he is situated on Thursday nights. We met Philip and immediately I caught up on the last two weeks that I had missed, saying how upset I was that I didn’t know about Bill’s solo session until the day before, about Bill’s embarrassment to talk about sex in front of me. I said how tired I was trying to get Bill interested in me sexually and how I am giving up on that. I said we are great partners, roommates, but lovers? Questionable. Philip isn’t going to give up on me and that. He feels that there is still hope.
Bill has a ways to go so he can come back to feeling that I was sexually attractive. I don’t want sexual validation from a stranger. I want it from him, but if he’s not going to give it, I will give up and focus on other aspects of our relationship. Philip thinks that’s being hasty.
We talked afterwards, Bill and I walking around and sitting on a bench in Union Square having a really deep conversation about how much we really do love each other. Bill said he can’t not love me, a double negative and you know what that means. We have got a lot of work to do. It’s worth it. I love him and he loves me.
As we sat there we were approached by an older man who asked if we wanted our shoes shined, saying it would last two weeks. Bill said no thanks, I said yes please. He said it was three dollars and I put my foot on his shine box. He was shining my shoes and I asked him if it was three dollars a shoe, or for the pair. He looked up and smiled and said, ‘You’re going to the moon Alice.” I pointed to Bill and said this is Ralph Kramden, I’m Ed Norton, eerily echoing Juan this afternoon who said that I wasn’t Ed Norton.
I mentioned that Bill drives a bus making him Ralph Kramden and the older gent shing my shoes said that he was a retired bus driver. Get’s a check for $1300 a month and shines shoes when he wants to make some extra cash to make ends meet I suppose. The two of them spoke bus driver talk and I sat and listened. His price was $3.00 and if I could spare anymore it would be so kind. I gave him $10.00 and he went on his way.
I was supposed to meet up with Juan but Bill and I got caught up in this emotional & sexual drama. It would have been nice to have Juan over, I feel he needed his escape from his own dysfunctional situation.
It was just one of those days.