Saturday, July 22, 2006

The Enabler

And here we go again. My plan tonight was to meet R. at Indigo's after work, have a birthday drink with him, crash early, and wake up at 5am for a video shoot at Fort Ruger.

Instead I'm at home, chain smoking [after a week totally free of nicotine] & still shaking from the fight. Met R. at Indigo's. He was already drunk. He spilled part of his drink on the waitress, called her a bitch, and then started to explain to her what her problem was.

And I snapped. I knew the day would come, and too bad it was on his birthday. I read him in front of the bar, and announced I would not drink with him unless he learned to behave in public.

He went nuclear. The fight went out into the park and continued down Hotel Street. I got called every name in the book, and then some. Who the fuck do you think you are? he asked. And I told him. I'm the guy who's been taking care of you the past year. So he let me know: I'm a stereotypical faggot. All he wanted to do is love me, and all I care about is money, parties, and dick. I'm a sexual predator. I'm all ego. I ruined his birthday. I'll be alone the rest of my life. And in case I didn't get the message, my voice mail is full of similar messages.

I told him to set a date, and move out. I still don't have the heart to throw him out on the streets tonight, although I desperately want my life back. I was hoping he'd get a job, stabilize, & save up some money before this day came. I actually feel guilty. In my head I know that my friends are right: I'm enabling, and he will do the bare minimum to keep me from throwing him out. It's been going on since I let him move back in, "until you get back on your feet," last September. I'm tired of being the cold bitch pushing him to get a job and quit drinking - but empathy hasn't worked. Intellectually I know this is what I have to do. But my heart still feels sick about it all.

It's past midnight. I left him in Chinatown, drunk and angry and with no money. I doubt he'll come home tonight. He never comes home anyway once he starts drinking. I have no idea what the weekend will bring.

I saved the messages. It'll help to keep the anger burning, and to resist the impulse I'll have to forgive come Sunday. You can quit the Church, but Catholicism digs in deep and stays there.

I can't recall how many hundreds of people I counseled who were in this same situation. I would have never guessed that one day the person on the other end of the line would be me.

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