Brian.

Who are you and how did you chance upon this blog?

Wiping the slate clean

I will be unabashedly straight-talking in this post.

When I began this blog, I was at the height of drug addiction. I was lonely, I felt abandoned and I needed company. Fucking was the easiest and gratifying way of meeting the need.

My life is clean now, in more ways than one. I have a dream job, I have left G, Gav, Brent(s). I have left the idiotic housemates, I have left Uni and most importantly, I have left the addiction for human contact and drugs.

I was re-reading my previous posts and thought whimsically (or egotistically) how I enjoyed reading them. The flow of words probably came from a High or a good trip. Truth is- I don’t know if i can do that anymore in sobriety.

I spent a considerable amount of time at work today reminiscing how my life was a year ago. How I felt when I got my driving license, how I first started out with G, how I first got a job in Maccas here and how scared I was to be a new driver on the road. My editor broke the endless trail of such thoughts by asking how I was going to spend christmas this year.

It’s pleasantly disconcerting how things turned out. I remember making a phonecall to G last christmas, telling him I’ve had enough of being the Evil One, wishing him a good trip a day before he returned to NZ to see his mother. It was a lonely christmas despite spending it in a home full of uni people. I remembered getting plastered from an alcohol-binge, getting stoned by pot while thinking to myself: Fuck- I need to find someone else.

“You know, it’s really weird how my relationships never last beyond christmas and I can never find someone before Valentine. It’s as if that period is permanently marked for me to can’t have boyfriends,” I remarked in a devil-may-care tone.

My editor laughed and said, “Well, see? I’ve told you haven’t I? You’ve got a commitment problem- start committing my dear. Stop seeing people old enough to be your father!”

“Weird you’re telling me that. Are you afraid I might go for you?” I teased.

We had a little going on when I first joined the company. He ignored me for the first three weeks and kept me thinking: Why the fuck did he hire me if he doesn’t even like me enough to say Hi?

That little mystery got solved during one of the company’s yearly river cruise trip. I was a little tipsy after three drinks and went up to the deck for a quick puff. He was there alone and I didn;t blame him. He brought along his wife who was whingeing the hours away, sulking in a seat away from everyone. With dutch courage, I tapped him on his shoulder and said, “I get the feeling that you can’t stand the sight of me from the way you avoid talking to me.”

He turned around and replied in his signature stoic manner,” well, because I need to stop myself from looking at you.”

It was a moment of unadulterated awkwardness before J, my gay colleague, popped out from nowhere and told me to partner him for the dance, saving me from the weird situation.

I don’t know the reason for it, but that dissipated the uncomfortable sensation between us. When I returned to the office on Monday, things became normal and we’re now able to chat and joke like mates.

“Oh come on R. You can’t expect me to go for some teenage heartthrob! Do I look like a teenybopper to you?” I rolled my eyes.

“That wasn’t what I was asking you to do. I’m telling you to find a nice guy, not seduce the pollie you were interviewing last week or accepting dates with firemen whom you got to know when you were chasing the front page story!” he answered in a mock-serious tone.

I am so going to kill my colleague J for telling him all that.

I also chose not to tell my editor that both the pollie and fireman are married.

So you see, I can’t blame myself can I? I promise my friendsI will leave dysfunctionality. It’s just difficult when that bitch runs to me all the time.