Dateline: various back to the aughts. With my 9 year sobriety anniversary a few days away, been noshing on the booze powered drama I've witnessed from my concubines. Separately, been saving my concert ticket stubs since college. Whilst perusing the tix boards you see below, so many memories. The sight of one made me stop and chuckle. Actually: cringe. For it was that eve we have drunken freakout #1 by...
Melissa. 2012ish. Met her on tinder I reckon. Some dating app. Lived near Lake Calhoun in Minneapolis. Was a flight attendant for Delta. Sort of played guitar. She wore high heels everywhere. Stiletto high heels. This I found ridiculous but I dug her ergo didn't say anything.
And, she was a boozer. As was I, back then. Only twice have I run around with fellow boozers. Two wrongs actually do not make a right.
Drunken freakout A: we went to see the Old 97's band at 'First Avenue' niteclub in downtown Minneapolis. Ever seen the flick Purple Rain? That's the place. Amazing place for shows. Went to a crazy amount of shows there. Ever seen the flick 'The Breakup? The concert scene is them. I didn't know the band but she was a big fan, ergo we went. Along with another couple. Friends of hers. We had a dandy time at the show. In fact we met at their place on the way prior for chit chat. Fine folks. She was drinking earlier in the day, but that was normal for her. I was driving ergo did not drink at all that day. Anyhoots I hadn't realized she was getting so liquored up at the show. But I was about to find out, indeed I was.
 |
| Old 97's, at bottom |
As when we exited the niteclub, she asked me the innocent sounding question, which is actually lethal, as you'll see both here and again shortly:
"Do you like my friends?"
I casually replied: 'I do they're cool.' Apparently, I didn't reply with the desired level of gusto. Because she stopped right there, on the corner of Hennepin & 7th St, surrounded by dozens of other creatures of the night, and began shrieking at me, over and over: 'you don't like my friends!! you don't like my friends!!'
I just stared at her, prolly thinking something like, suspicion confirmed. Single for a reason. Fucking nutter. Actually, a drunken nutter. She was groovy when sober, or at least normal ish; but that wasn't often. I just walked away, back to my car in the parking ramp. She followed. Drove her home in silence with her berating me for most of it.
But here's the wildest story with her. Also the last time I saw her. We had apparently kissed & made up at some point, as a month or 2 later we actually visited those same friends again. They hadn't witnessed her sidewalk freakout. The plan was meet at their place for a pre bar outing then go out to a bar on W. 7th in St. Paul for holiday cheer. She & I had gone out for lunch earlier that day. She started drinking then. Noonish. Back at her place I watched her mixing giant vodka drinks, giant as in big gulp cups from a gas station giant. Yeah in hindsight I shoulda said have a nice day & split. But you know: we had plans.
So we meet at their place. She's been drinking all day as outlined earlier. We then, wait for it, head out to some nearby bar for holiday cheer. At the bar she starts getting wobbly & I lean over to the bloke saying 'gonna take us home.' And either when ensconced in my car, she asks my favorite question:
"Do you like my friends?"
And I reply...actually I don't recall as she instantly went into full freakout mode. All the way home. Berating me in my ear. Maybe she was in a blackout, doesn't really matter. I do recall it was snowing, it was getting late, long since dark & I had to concentrate on driving. Besides, this was my fault for not walking away earlier. But wait! It's when we got back to my place, where her car was, that the party really started. She's shrieking as usual, I'm telling her I'm calling a taxi, which I do. I went upstairs and stayed for several minutes just for peace. Anyhoots the taxi arrives in 10 minutes, honks, I tell her to split. She kicks of her high heel shoes right at me, says
'I'm not wearing these!' and storms outside barefoot in the snow.
These were John Fluevog shoes, high heels of course, that I had purchased for her. They were around $300. Fluevog had opened his store in Minneapolis that year, we both went, he was there actually, we each bought (technically I bought) limited special edition shoes he designs for each city's store opening. I still have mine & enjoy them to this day. The store said they made 10 pair total of mine. Not 10 in each size; 10 pair total. Let's focus.
So, she kicks off these Fluevogs, bolts outside barefoot in the Minneapolis December snowfall down my driveway into the taxi. I look out the window 5 minutes later. Taxi still there. Hasn't left. what. the fuck.
5 minutes later she's pounding on my door. Pounding & yelling. I start texting her something like get back in the taxi. She's replying she needs her laptop. I said I'll bring it tomorrow. She gets in her car which is at my back door & turns it on. Keeps texting me she'll go if she gets her laptop. Eventually I open back door, she rolls down window I give her laptop and quickly retreat back into house & lock door. Periodically she pounds on the door. I put on jeans and sweatshirt assuming the cops were gonna arrive due to the racket. But in a snowfall they're dealing with other issues.
After 30 agonizingly long minutes with her car idling next to my house she drives off. I debated calling 911 believing she was gonna wrap her car around a tree or someone else's car but decided against it.
Epilogue: I listed her shoes on eBay a couple weeks later. I shared this story of why I was selling. A shortened version anyhoots. Had several people message telling me they're not in their size but would buy them if they were. Also, that I was kick arse mancandy for buying her Fluevogs. One lady in Toronto wanted to meet me. We even spoke on blower (we didn't meet). Soon again I shopping at the Fluevog store, wearing my own limited edition. For kicks told clerk the story of the other pair. Clerk says 'yeah actually she was in here recently asking if we had another pair. Said she got in fight with her boyfriend & flipped out.'
Ergo, at least I know she made it home in one piece.
Epilogue: the year of our lord, 2014. I'm at a local business market research conference (actually running it). 100ish ppl there. I'm introducing a speaker & spot a guy in the audience wearing my same extremely limited-edition shoes (maybe not so extremely?). Here we both are. Try to calculate the odds of this happening. Same day, same place, same obscure market research conference:
drunken freakout #2 by...
Elizabeth. 2018. Boise. Discovered her on a group bike ride. She was talking about being on assignment. She's a travelling occupational therapist, does 6- or 12-month gigs wherever. Anyhoots, rode after her post ride on the greenbelt. Stopped & chatted for a spell. Turns out we're both from Minnesota I realized after swapping digits. Area code. Anyhoots we ran around off & on for several months.
A couple items of note about Elizabeth. First: marvelous milkers. I'm talking sparkling. Let's focus. Dazzling smile. Also, she was a drinker. Mostly kept it together. She enjoyed plowing the froth of a couple four. Oh and lastly, she told me early on, after a couple three dates she had an anxiety disorder. I nodded and said okie doke. Assuming she was just sharing helpful information.
What I would come to learn the hard way is she wasn't simply sharing information. She was issuing a warning. I missed that one.
Her two married pals from NC came to Boise to visit her. Interesting couple for sure: they were Mt. Kilimanjaro guides. That's in Africa. Like in the movies. Ya don't meet folks like that everyday. Anyhoots the 4 of us did din din at mex joint patio in Hyde Park area of Boise. Stop me when this gets too exciting. Fun chit chat, storytelling, the usual. Elizabeth is plowing froth off several. No surprise but I was used to it. After a couple hour pleasant din din we walk a few blocks to their airbnb rental. The backyard patio has a fire pit. Fire is created, we sit around for more chat. The wife at one point sez out of the blue 'I told Elizabeth not too fall in love. Now she won't move back to east coast near us.' I got dazed by that one. Love? We dug each other but love? Anyhoots, we said our goodbyes and walking back in the dark, I recall vividly it was 11pm, hand in hand, Elizabeth asks me, verbatim, my favorite question,
"Do you like my friends?"
I said yes of course, they're groovy. And she instantly launched into a very loud verbal assault in the street:
'no you don't! you barely talked to them at dinner! you didn't ask them questions!
On and on it went. A loud, drunken, berating in the dark, in a very quiet neighborhood. It was fucking surreal. And yes I had flashback to Melissa. I was saying they're dandy, they're great or whatever but no matter. She was fully into the dark side.
Final scene, me saying 'ok Elizabeth' and getting in my car. I vividly recall her saying 'wow' as I got in my car. As in: 'wow I can't believe you're splitting instead of sticking around for my verbal assault.'
Epilogue: 2 days later I was leaving for my first and last sea cruise. I didn't want to leave it like that (in hindsight a mistake). I was sms her to meet, which she agreed to at Camelback park there in Hyde Park. She came, we chatted. She never apologized, nor even acknowledged the freakout. Either she didn't realize it happened or she was in a blackout or she believes being angry = being right.
We did kiss & makeup in the park though. We ran around for a few more months. During which I was on the receiving end of a few sober neurotic freakouts (one was in a restaurant, totally out of the blue, another when she thought I was her deceased ex-bf) & a few more drunken freakouts. The final straw was driving back from a weekend of gravel bike riding up in Riggins, Idaho along the salmon river. Actual pic from that trip:
She thought a 3-hour drive was an excellent time to initiate an argument. Dropped her off back in Boise, me pissed as hell this time due to her insistence in parking on only one side of the street in front of her house. We literally drove past her house after a tense 3-hour drive. Instead of doing a simple u-turn in front of her place she would always drive several blocks (I'm talking close to a half mile) in a clockwise winding loop to park on that side. Do a fucking u-turn. She drove across the country. She can do a u-turn.
Never saw her again. Other than bumping into her at the bicycle film festival a few months later, beer in hand. We each said hi. I was a couple rows behind her, ergo could see her get up 2x to return with glasses of brewski.
drunken freakout #3 by...
Sheila. 2016. North Carolina. This I have written about in my multi-parter NC experience. Sidebar - the worst (probably top shelf most hyenas ever) ladyfriend freakout is in there also BUT she was sober ergo not included here. That's the surgeon. A verbally abusive, God complex surgeon making $30k/month and complained about everything...but sober. Read about that in part 1 of my NC multi-parter for a real knee slapper.
Sheila was not a surgeon. Far from it. She was a friendly, kind, warm person. Married way too young, a mom way too young, dropped out of college, homeschooled her boys, married to a hillbilly drug dealer a decade+, basically a (sad) movie. That's what religion does to people. Pollutes their rational brain into making horseshit life altering decisions. But this blurb isn't about that, already addressed it, ergo let's focus already! Damn dude. Get it together.
There was one haunting memory from that relationship. Isn't there always? The haunting memory is worth revisiting, as it was so unpleasant & surreal. Ergo, buckle up. We did a late winter weekend getaway in NYC to visit my long since grown up 'Little Brother.' He got both his degrees from NYU after attending Julliard. Ergo, he was a local by then, knew all the groovy places, esp around NYU / the village. Us & his ladyfriend (musician, actress, playwright) bopped around that area, taking in 2 live jazz clubs (Smalls & Bar Next Door) & also the groovy bar Philip Seymour Hoffman was a regular at. She & I hiked around Central Park. Had a great weekend. Had a gawdawful rental in a high rise where there was loudly heinous (radiator?) knocking throughout the night coming from somewhere. Barely slept. Anyhoots we had a 10am checkout and at 9:55 am there were maids outside the door. Our flight out wasn't until the afternoon ergo we needed to stash the bags til then. But the high rise wasn't a hotel, there was nowhere to stash them. Where do you stash bags for a few hours in NYC? Would a random hotel take them if we walked in off the street? Maybe had we said yeah we're staying here but didn't think of it. I'm sure the locals might know but we didn't.
We basically gave up and decided to head to the airport several hours early. Boring but hardly a big deal. Except. She decided to spend those hours in a bar, solo. Days later she told me the barkeep introduced her to long island iced teas. The most potent drink ever created. They're something like 5 shots of different liquor with sweet syrup. They should be illegal. When in Rome, apparently. Ya know: New York. Get it? Let's focus. When she came over to me, reading on my laptop, I knew she was drunk. When we walked down the jetway she stumbled a few times & I became aware just how drunk. Then on the flight back to Greensboro, thankfully only a couple hours, she quietly wept for most of it. I left her alone. But then, the shitshow.
She apparently entered blackout territory during the flight. She started hassling me, louder & louder. The reason she gave was I didn't join her at the bar. Or something. I'm in my 2nd year of sobriety at this point which she's fully aware of but maybe not to someone in a blackout. But worse, something repressed in her brain got dredged up, nothing to do with me. Specifically, after we landed, her shitty 20-year marriage to hillbilly redneck, came pouring out LOUDLY. And directed at me. It must have been Sunday nite by then as all the stores were closed, it was just our flight walking. And the entire walk, from plane to outside to parking lot, let's say 15 minutes of continuous loud verbal abuse. It was fucking unreal. Everyone was staring at her. If there was security anywhere, they would have noticed. But it was Sunday night at the mostly closed Greensboro airport.
I kept quiet, thinking: why the fuck am I going through this verbal abuse again? Why the fuck did I just pay for a weekend NYC getaway? Is that my crime here? Being nice? Why am I being berated by a blackout drunk when I myself am committed to a life of sobriety?
But wait! There's more! As we're walking out of airport into parking lot, her loudly berating me the entire time (a laundry list of bad husband behavior...oops wrong guy) I'm thinking 'no fucking way you're getting in my car for me to drive you home. No. Fucking. Way.' So when we get to the car I unlock my side, only. Search for her keys which I cannot find anywhere. Dash, floors, nowhere. I speak for the 1st time in 10 minutes: 'There's no way you're getting in the car. Call a fucking taxi.' I literally didn't care if she has to sleep it off in the parking lot. You lose boyfriend privileges with this drunken aggressiveness. And I can't find her fucking keys. And I don't really care. Turns out they're in the center console, right there, but I miss them. So she starts furiously sms whoever, apparently some guy she went out with before me. I drive the 30 min home, in disbelief at how this weekend ended. Such a great trip, until she turned into the Hulk.
But wait! There's more! After an hour she keeps sms me saying she needs her keys. I reply I found them, I'll leave them in the lobby, don't come up to my flat, ever. So her son drives her back to retrieve. And then she begins the sms apology tour, for days. Calls & sms, over & over, apologizing for her behavior. I explain back how offensive her outburst was, esp. for a person who recently entered recovery sobriety. Anyhoots, we eventually got back together, sort of, but it was never the same for me and I never forgot about this. Also, her two teen boys didn't like me to start with (Yankee with actual taste in music & art) & me abandoning their drunken mess of a mom at the airport (from their pov) didn't exactly help.
She popped up in a Facebook memory recently. She has a different last name. Ergo I assume she's been adopted.
drunken freakout #4 by...
Christina. 2001. Minneapolis. Introduced by my drug dealer. She worked at an office with his gf. Dots were connected and I met her. Our 1st or 2nd date we drove way out to the exurbs to my buddy's big lake house and took a spin on the lake in his motorboat. Knew she was weird, and in the flaky way where you're not sure where it's headed. Scorpion tattoo on lower back (which I viewed, um, frequently). Former stripper. I'll fast forward past a buncha legit crazy shit to the big leagues crazy shit that happened one night.
Hosted a work party at my place, inviting my collection of misfits wrote about earlier. Christina didn't drink often, as mebbe she realized what a lightweight she was. She was certainly skinny enough. Anyhoots she had a couple three four glasses of wine and after din din we were just sitting around listening to music, 6 or so of us. Just chatting. Out of the blue, Christina erupted. At Jessica. A personal attack on Jessica's looks. Sidebar, Jessica could probably have passed as a model. Plenty cute. Worked for me as a coder. Smart. Wore an ungodly amount of makeup. Nice, gentle person.
Christina is suddenly, loudly berating her. About her nose, her hair, stuff like that. They're 5 feet away. We're all staring, confused. I had seen Christina go to the dark side but never like this. After 20 seconds of berating I said 'I guess time to go.' This is my work team mind you. I'm the boss of several. Not reflecting well on me. I walk Jessica the few feet to the door, apologizing. Everyone split. I was in a daze, basically. It was a great evening up until then.
I said to her: 'you're leaving also' or something like that. She was standing next to me yelling at me at this point. I took her by the arm and walked her out the door, using some force. No choice. She wasn't leaving voluntarily. Closed the door, locked it. She starts banging on it of course. Yelling. Just like Melissa would do in a snowstorm years later. The door had glass panes. Wait for it, she broke the glass. I go out the house door onto the porch where the door is. Broken glass in the porch. It was noisy as she was yelling 'let me in! let me in!'. So noisy I choose to let her in due to the shouting. I told her she could stay the nite if she calmed down. And she actually did calm down & stayed the night. At work next day recalling calling glass or door companies to come fix it. Don't recall if I addressed the team.
But Christina being Christina, within a few days called the main company, asked for Jessica, and left a scathing voice message. Must have been over a minute long. Just this long personal attack on her looks, about staying away from me, delusional shit like that. A voice message to her work line! I was of course done with her that last nite, but now I was worried about my job security. I decided to fw the msg to HR, not having a guidebook about what to do. HR listened to it, didn't do anything. Told me there was no direct threat ergo dropping the matter.
My drug dealer told me what happened to Christina. She worked at a doctor's office (that alone is baffling). Stole a prescription pad and started writing prescriptions. I knew indirectly of this as she actually gave me a prescription for Ambien & Viagra during the few months we were together. Figured it was from the Doc though. It's just scribbles. But apparently, she was writing it herself. And lo, she got caught. And lo, went to prison.
I did see her one last time, must have been pre pokey. It was months after last seeing her, reckon I was lonely. Rang her up, she came over. Knee high leather boots, mini skirt, looking quite the trollop. Then I noticed whoever drove her was waiting in the car in the street for her. Another woman. Then I realized she was hooking. Her asking me for cash shortly after arriving was also a bit of a clue.
And finally, looked her up on FB, just a few years ago. And lo, there she was. She must be pushing 2 bills. My theory is she's on all kinds of anti-psychotic drugs. I could write an entire blurb on just her with all the stuff I left out.