February 22, 2004

Last night, E.S. and I went to the 50th birthday party of a friend of his, a delightful woman I’d met briefly the last time he and I were dating. Last night’s event took place at a Russian restaurant in Brighton Beach, which, for those of you unfamiliar with the geography of New York City, is about as far out in Brooklyn as you can go without hitting the Atlantic Ocean; this means it takes forever to get to.

What I was dreading, however, was neither the travel time nor having to leave Manhattan, but the presence at the party of E.S.’s ex-boyfriend E.W., who lives across the hall from E.S. and with whom E.S. is still good friends.

E.W. hates my guts.

I’d actually spent some time in E.W.’s company the last time E.S. and I were dating, and he was fun, friendly, and charming. However, when the whole debacle surrounding my reconnection with E.S. took place, his volatile, possessive, jealous, over-protective side came out; apparently, he raged and stormed and was prevented from issuing a fatwa only by E.S.’s continued insistence that if he could get over it, E.W. could too.

This would be the first time since E.S. and I started dating again that I’d see E.W., and, as I say, I was dreading it.

In the event, however, I wasn’t dreading it enough.

As unluck would have it, we ended up in the same subway car. After greeting me by the moniker Faust (rather than my real name), he spent the entire rest of the now-interminable subway ride neither speaking to me nor looking at me. Finally at one point he was talking about wanting to sit next to the birthday girl. He said, “If I have to supplant somebody, I will, though I’ve been specifically requested not to beat a specific person up.”

I said, “Oh, well, if you’ve been specifically requested, that’s almost an invitation.”

E.S. said, “He’s talking about you.”

“Oh,” I said miserably. “In that case.”

We finally reached Brighton Beach, got off, and headed towards the restaurant. Just outside the door, E.W. turned to me and said, “Faustus [my real name this time], I’m certain you’re aware that there are going to be several people here who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”

I wish I could say that I had a snappy comeback, but I was so horrified that all I could say was, “I’m sure there are.”

Then he said [I’m quoting almost verbatim], “I don’t know what you’ve told E.S. about your past behavior to him, which you detailed for whatever narcissistic reason on your blog, but if I ever find out that your future behavior to him bears any resemblance to your past behavior, the consequences will be dire.”

Then he wished me luck.

Appalled, I thanked him.

Thus assaulted, I went inside to the party, where I was so mortifyingly underdressed I might as well have been wearing nothing but a thong made of Saran Wrap. Furthermore, E.S. and E.W. were the only people I knew at the party, aside from the hostess, who was busy having a blast on her birthday. E.W. immediately sat down at the table with all the fags, which meant that E.S. and I had to sit at the table with all the straight people, who talked about things like where they’d gotten the brooches they were wearing.

The food was dreadful—pickled things and gray meat in grayer sauce, which is terrific if you like that sort of thing, but I don’t. Finally, they brought out a huge cake and sang happy birthday, but my hopes of being able to eat and run were dashed when they took the cake away and forced us to watch a dance show of young Russians in costumes that glowed under black lights; after a little of this, the black light dancers left stage and were replaced by two guys in sombreros dancing with canes. This went on and on.

Finally they brought the cake back; E.S. and I gobbled down what we could, and left.

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21 Responses to Last night, E.S. and I

  1. Jeff says:

    Interesting. Did I ever tell you about my friend Lisa and me in college? When we were together, we were deadly. She was known as the Viper; I was the Terminator. Good times.

    In that spirit, if you like, I’d be more than happy to set E.W. on fire and see how many people piss on him.

  2. Crash says:

    Luckily, there are plenty of people out there who would piss on you if you were on fire.

    Well . . . you know what I mean.

    The important thing, as you know, is how E.S. feels about you, not his friends. So I think you’re doing okay.

  3. orbicon says:

    I am just staring at the screen, aghast.
    Black Light Dancers? How horribly 1980’s junior high talent show. ugh.

  4. jon collins says:

    boy that E.W.’s a real cunt, huh? It’s one thing to be worried for a friend you’ve dated and another to attack someone (no matter how nefarious) in public shortly before someone else’s festive occasion. I suggest pissing on him even if he isn’t on fire.

  5. Campbell says:

    With minimal polishing and just a tad of re-writing hither and yon, you will have Manhattan dinner tables in stitches with this tale for decades to come.

    But, I have to say it; you expected edible food in a Russian enclave??

  6. Patrick says:

    “Hell hath no fury…”
    You’ve done your time, you’ve paid your debt, and EW has to just get over his own issues. Piss on him…and be happy you’ve reconnected with ES. You realize of course…you may see a modified version of this story presented at my next stand-up show.

  7. Jere says:

    You deserve some sort of medal for ever going into the party after being assaulted en route. I can’t believe ES stood by and allowed his “friend” to do that to you, although he may have been in as much shock as you. This behavior of EW’s goes beyond rude and I hope ES read him the riot act at some point later.

    Were I ES, Faustus would have gotten a huge bouquet of flowers the next day, and EW would have gotten a swift kick in the ass followed by a warning that if such things ever happen again, there would be no further friendship.

    This is so beyond the bounds of looking out for a friend…

  8. Dr.P says:

    Bravo to you and E.S. for sitting through all that. E.W. is a jealous raving lunatic.

  9. JW says:

    I hope that E.S. apologized for E.W.’s deplorable behavior. Furthermore, I hope E.W. still reads the blog, and I hope he reads this comment so he knows that I think he seems like the most dreadful human being any poor soul could ever have the misfortune to meet.

  10. Adam875 says:

    As I recall, while you were a big slut the last time you and ES dated, wasn’t there also never any kind of discussion or expectation of fidelity or boyfriendage? Has everyone forgotten that?

  11. hot toddy says:

    Blogging is a means of self-expression, not narcissism. Sort of like verbally attacking someone is a means of self-expression, mainly expressing the idea that one is an asshole.

  12. E.W. sounds like a jaded, old queen… a real douche bag!

  13. Wayne says:

    SH*T, damn E.W. Wish I know you in person, so I can really PISS on him.

    *gobbles down a glass of water*

    He needs to get OVER it.

    I mean, *REALLY*

    Fausty, if you need an extra set of nails to scratch a certain someone, let me know.

  14. James says:

    You failed to mention that E.W. is 13… or at least he was acting like a 13-year-old… in junior high – sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.
    I suppose he obviously cares for E.S. a great deal, but one of the best parts of becoming an adult is realizing what is and is not your business. E.W. is friends with E.S.; E.W. obviously still cares for E.S. But E.W. sadly fails to realize that E.S. is an adult, and must be allowed to live his own life, date whom he chooses, and forgive whom he chooses… and E.S. has obviously forgiven you. If E.W. respects E.S. at all, he’ll let E.S. live his own life.
    What a flake.

  15. t says:

    if EW cares for ES so very much, why is he going out of his way to make ES uncomfortable? b/c that’s what it sounds like he did. EW sounds like the narcissist here, more interested in his own moral high horse than in actually being kind to his friend.

  16. Anonymous #7 says:

    I grew up a few minutes away in Bensonhurst. I can’t believe you went out to Brighton Beach for a birthday party. LOL Is the confrontation with E.W. giving you more of a reason to forgive yourself? After all, he did say “there are going to be people here who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”

  17. Pam says:

    Think of it as a rite of passage. His friend can’t continue to act like this forever and if E.S. lets him, well, what does that say ?

  18. Pam says:

    Think of it as a rite of passage. His friend can’t continue to act like this forever and if E.S. lets him, well, what does that say ?

  19. J-I says:

    Sounds like it was a dreadful evening. Bummer.

  20. Jalal says:

    White guys fighting with other white guys over white guys – HOT!

    Faustus, time and a little effort 😉

  21. Convivia says:

    If you were (God forbid) on fire, would it actually be a good thing if someone pissed on you?

    I mean, the likelihood that they would produce enough volume of liquid to actually be of any benefit is slim, so it would probably just be adding insult to injury.

    This EW character is a shitheel. However, the Russian banquet sounds about par for the course. Remember that the Kiev and the Odessa are Ukrainian restaurants, after all…Russia has no edible food, because their tastebuds are deadened with vodka.


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