Why? Why, why, why do we embrace destructive actions? Why do we allow ourselves to walk down a path that is lit by fire with signs only pointing to misery. Why do we do this most especially with relationships? I’m inclined to believe we choose this journey because of our thirst for moments of intimacy and can justify every bad decision with hours and hours of superfluous “answers” that frequently mean nothing.
Why do we award emotions to those who neither deserve our time or intimacy? Because it feels good in the moment? Probably. But how long do those moments really last?
I’m asking a lot of questions here because they keep jogging through my mind and unfortunately I have not a single answer. I’ve been at this blog for a year now. In that year, I’ve written about subjects that I tend to keep from people who are dear to me. This is a sad habit but also explanatory. I went through so much shit that I thought would break me but managed to learn from it. But I bottle it all up from the friends who want to help me and care about my happiness. I hide it in a back room in my brain and heart and hope it dissipates over time. I don’t think it ever really does. With all those feelings stewing in you, they are bound to burst.
This blog is taking a total 180 because of this. When we started posting our stories online, they centered around poor decisions fueled by alcohol that often involved men who we sacrificed ourselves to. Because neither Alexis or I cared about sharing ourselves with people who would never return such emotions, so long as we got a good story out of it. This is part of what your early twenties is all about.
Now that I’ve hit mid-twenties, I’m fucking bitter about it. Because intimacy comes in any form that you allow: a touch, a smile, a kiss; waking up to an empty bed and hoping, beyond all hope, that the one you want is next to you; or waking up and praying it was all just a bad dream.
I had a really great night up until about ten. I met a new friend of mine for drinks who has been down the lesbian-nasty-break-up-road a few more times than me. She gave me great advice about how to handle this situation but also handling myself with future endeavors. Despite summing up my entire break-up story to her, I didn’t think about ex-girlfriend like I usually do with four drinks in me.
I could her my voice sharing the facts to my friend and each feeling tied to them but it wasn’t me. It was like a narrator in a book speaking through my vocal chords and for this reason, I didn’t miss my ex as much. I was listening to my own story without noticing that it’s actually mine.
After another friend met us, we headed back to Astoria for more drinks. Then it happened: my ex’s first drunk text message to me post break up. Not a big deal, right? I thought so, at first. But with all the shit I just spewed out at two in the morning, I think it affected me more than I care to admit. Our conversation was fairly average but felt like flirting, even though we probably weren’t. It brought me back to when we deliberately used to flirt via text message before we actually slept together, what a comfortable feeling.
Then I thought about what I was actually doing: hiding how I actually felt about the deterioration of our relationship to have a fleeting conversation that made me feel comfortable. None of my friends knew who I was texting all night, so it felt secretive and special. But she doesn’t make me feel comfortable anymore. It was the farthest thing from special. If I were smart, if I chose to avoid self-destructive decisions, I would have ignored that first drunk message instead of embarking on a two-hour texting session.
When have I ever done what’s actually best for myself in a relationship? Never, because I put partners first.
And there’s the first answer I’ve given myself all night.
-Anastasia Beam
Filed under: birds and bees | Tags: alcohol, alexis, anastasia, boyfriends, dating, friendship, humor, kissing, relationships, sex, women
I am going to share some things with you from times that I should have called in an early night, but didn’t. This way you can learn from my mistakes and call it a night before these things happen!
1. When you wake up in someone else’s clothes and look over and see a naked hairy man snorting a line of coke off the bedside table – you probably shoulda called it a night.
2. When you wake up on a couch with your best friend’s brother who is three years younger than you, his hand down your shirt and beer bottles and pizza scattered all over the table – you probably shoulda called it a night.
3. If you wake up in the basement of a football player’s house wearing the remains of a fairy costume next to an uncircumcised man and you have to do the walk of shame through their apartment over the other football player you were previously hooking up with only to return to your home where your panties were raided and spread all over the house and blood smeared on the walls from a “wrestling” injury – you probably shoulda called it a night.
4. If you wake up next to your best friend’s ex-boyfriend lying in your bed while your best friend is in the next room – you probably shoulda called it a night.
5. If the van door suddenly jolts open to reveal your friend who is in love with you staring at you in horror because you are naked and your current lover’s parts are still inside you – you probably shoulda called it a night.
6. When you wake up and your current lover is frantically trying to find one of the condoms from your night of fun – only for the condom to reveal itself later stuck in “places” – you probably shoulda called it a night.
7. When you wake up in Coney Island on the subway train, covered in puke and have no idea how to get to Brooklyn – you probably shoulda called it a night.
Yeah when you wind up here and can't figure out how to get to Brooklyn, you must have had a rough night - because this is the last stop in BK
8. If you and your friend end up in a random apartment lying next to practical strangers and they ask you to shower with them the next morning – you and your friend probably shoulda called it a night.
9. When you wake up covered from head to toe in stale beer and you have two stamps from the location where you partied the night before, stamped on your nipples – you shoulda called it a night.
10. When you wake up cuddling with an old friend, a bloody elbow, a fat lip from being punched in the mouth and 18 text messages from a desperate man – you probably shoulda called it a night.
- Alexis Patron
Filed under: birds and bees | Tags: alcohol, anastasia, dating, friendship, relationships, surprises
Sometimes I’ll catch a look in my friend’s eye when she doesn’t know I’m watching. They light up like she’s watching fireworks, yet they look like they are building with tears. When these moments happen, she’s always smiling and I don’t have to ask what is making her happy anymore.
“I feel like a proud mother watching all my kids have a good time together” is generally the gist of what she says. When all her favorite people are in one room together, with no reason to celebrate other than having an amazing time just being together, that look engulfs her. And I love it, because she looks so beautiful with such happiness on her face. If I could figure out how to make my friends that happy all the time, I would gladly give up everything that’s special to me.
I had one of those nights on Saturday, but it was a bittersweet evening.
My friend just turned twenty five and casually mentioned a few months ago that he’s always wanted a surprise party. So, we set up a surprise party at one of our favorite dive bars. I was convinced he knew, somehow. Why else wouldn’t we ask him what he wanted to do for his birthday? Blasé is a good definition for how we all acted whenever he brought up his birthday and not because we weren’t excited for it, we just didn’t want to blow the surprise.
Ex-lady friend headed to the bar before us to set up banners made of pictures of his favorite things: nacho cheese, cigarettes, alcohol, Aunt Jackie, and prunes all decorated the back of the bar. Happy Bat Mitzvah and princess balloons hung in the air. Someone brought brownies and best of all, we managed to wrangle up wrist bands for 24oz beers priced at a bargain $4.50 all night.
Had the party happened three weeks ago, it would have been one of the best nights of my life.
We brought the birthday boy and a few other friends to the bar once we knew the majority of guests were ready and waiting. He passed through the front of the bar, skirted by a slew of random hipsters and made his way to the back. Everyone was waiting and gathered around a table. When he saw us his smile was bright. His face light up. He looked genuinely happy and completely surprised. The plan had worked.
Side note: there’s nothing I love more than seeing my friends smile. It’s those deep, honest smiles that come from the heart that make you truly grateful for the people in your life who aren’t family by blood but certainly are more than friends.
It was one of those proud-momma moments for me. Seeing him so happy made me happy. I’ve never seen him look more handsome than he did at that moment. He temporarily took my mind off the breakup, unemployment, grad school and everything else that was fogging my mind lately.
I hate admitting this (because the climax of the night came so early on) but the best part was experiencing my friend’s happiness with him. After that, however, the night became a battle for me. I fought the lush in me who wanted nothing more than to tell the lady friend that I missed her and wanted her to be happy, even if that happiness came at the expense of mine. But I abide by the rule that sober thoughts mean more than drunk ones, so I bit my tongue. I did my best to ignore her, not out of animosity but out of protection for myself and her. It was (and still is) too soon to let her back into my life. I couldn’t bear sharing my happiness with someone who just, unintentionally, inflicted so many deep wounds within me.
So, to avoid one of those drunk-man’s-words-equal-sober-man’s-thoughts moments, I did what I do best: avoided her while acting like I was having the best time of my life.
Yes, I was having a good time. I enjoyed each drink and was happy to see old friends. But that annoying little voice in the back of my head kept reminding me how much better the night could have played out had she been on my arm. That voice that is difficult to silence when it gets louder with each drink. How do you combat something that you know is bad for you in the long run but temporarily makes you feel better about all that is wrong in your life? This is the epic war I fight with myself each and every single day. It’s exhausting.
I absolutely hate that the last few stories I have written have either centered around ex-lady friend or involved her to some extent. There are so many more elements in my life that I am grateful for: family, friends, health, etc. Yet, no matter how hard I try, I can’t get her off my brain. It makes me feel like a weak individual, burdening everyone with my petty problems. If I could disappear until this blows over, I most certainly would. But hiding wouldn’t work because she always seems to find me. And she has no idea.
-Anastasia Beam
Filed under: this and that | Tags: anastasia, boyfriends, dating, ex, girlfriends, relationships, women
I’m responding to a reader’s comments in a post because that’s exactly what it deserves. And, also, I have to give David a shout out for being one of the most awesome readers and thank him for his kind words that made me feel much better. So thank you, good sir. I hope you are having a lovely day.
To see David’s comment about the last article visit: I blame optimism.
Now, it’s business time. Let’s talk about being friends with an ex. The elusive theory I never thought I’d encounter but now have been thrown into. David asked if, in my opinion, it will be easier or more difficult to revert to friends with the ex since we are of the same sex.
I can only answer this question with my own personal experiences and what I know from watching friends go through similar experiences in the last year. Currently, I am not friends with any male that I slept with, had a relationship with, or fooled around with post high school. I am friends with one guy I fooled around with in high school and lucky for me, he’s one of my best friends on earth. With this one exception, I strictly abide to the policy of “get me off and get out of my life” apparently.
It’s not that I don’t want to be friends with these men, but for various reasons our relationship deteriorated into either unsalvageable or not worth the effort. In the case of ex boyfriend I physically cannot be friends with him yet. I know myself too well and hearing his voice will always make me want more.
The situation with the ex lady friend is a little different. This was my first same-sex relationship and at the end has left me in a wake of nothing but more confusion and more alcohol. For example: who will I date or sleep with next? Will it be a man or a woman? I don’t know. I loathe bisexuality. I loathe it like I loathe the Yankees. This is probably the most hypocritical statement I have made all week, too. I loathe it because, in my experience, people announce their bisexuality with fireworks. It’s such an attention-seeking move. It represents living in a society in which people are defined drastically by their sexuality. And that’s such bullshit because people are defined by so much more than sexuality. Sexuality makes up a tiny percentage of who you are.
But this is a hypocritical statement because for now I am bisexual. See? Even just typing that makes my skin crawl. There are things I love about both sexes. I love beards. I love broad shoulders. I love deep voices that come with light touches. On the other hand, I love curves. I love soft skin. I love light voices and even lighter touches. I love turning people’s heads when they see me holding a girl’s hand. And I would not be interested in a woman with a beard, broad shoulders and a deep voice; just as I’m not interested in a man with curves and a falsetto.
Part of the reason why I’m having trouble getting over this (even though we’re still only on the second week) is that she never pushed me to answer the question of if I am gay or straight, and now I’m pushing myself to answer it.
Anyways, sorry, got a bit off topic there.
I have a pretty tight-knit group of friends who are lesbians and, conveniently, all friends with their exes. To answer David’s initial questions: I think it is easier for women who are in same sex relationships to remain friends with other women they were romantically involved with.
Because, generally, women are more emotional. We are more willing to go an extra mile for a friend or lover. We value close relationships with friends and even closer relationships with lovers. Now, this is not to say that men are not emotional and don’t care about their significant others but it’s just a different level with women.
This friends-with-the-ex theory is such a delicate balance. It takes time, a shit ton of effort and a bucket full of tears. And it can be a very, very fine line. This is partially what destroyed my relationship with the ex lady friend: she’s not over her ex. And look at that, they are friends!
That’s not always how it works. That could just be a unique situation. Honestly, I think my ex will be able to be friends with her ex, too, and in turn I’ll be able to be friends with her. One day. Hopefully.
- Anastasia Beam
Sometimes I wonder if I ever actually think through decisions. I mean I honestly take space and time for myself to think with my head instead of any other part of my body that frequently dictates actions. The blessing and curse of my life is optimism. When I make the right decision or, honestly, get lucky, I sit back and bask in the glory of being a sincerely optimistic individual. But when I cross that line into the wrong decision, I blame optimism. Because I have always landed on my feet. I have survived breakups, failures, deaths, indecision, exhaustion, unemployment, and seemingly endless fights with loved ones. I have survived all these incidents and genuinely believed all of which resulted in me growing as an individual and friend. What an easy assessment to make once the grieving process has passed. I blame optimism because what if I thought glass half empty instead of half full? Would I be more likely to steer clear of decisions that which are not blatant to me?
The lady friend and I broke up. How quickly I slipped right back into the old drink-your-face-off-and-take-Nyquil-to-help-sleep habits and it’s only been a week.
I respect and love relationships. I’d prefer to be in one. But when your name goes from present to past tense in the voice of someone you care about and love, what is the point of relationships? Once you have crossed that dangerous line of investing yourself and time in another person, it becomes a terrifying game of Russian Roulette. You pull the trigger and sometimes get lucky with a bullet-less chamber. Or you don’t.
The optimistic side of me tells me that the best part about my breakup is that we both want to remain friends. Which means we hope to eventually be friends. The pessimist in me reminds me that I have to see her all the time because of said desire to remain friends combined with our large amount of mutual friends.
There is nothing worse than that. There is nothing sadder than missing someone who is sitting right next to you. And I’m just not sure how I’m going to eradicate this sadness.
-Anastasia Beam
Filed under: alcohol | Tags: alcohol, alexis, bar, bartending, flirt, liquor, new york city, shots
As I have previously discussed being a bartender isn’t just about pouring the drinks. It’s a complex dance of flirting, strong will and oftentimes loose morals. You have to have the power and control to take over any situation that may arise at your bar. A weak personality will never survive in a good bar. Sure, weak personalities could survive in a convention hall bar where they serve beer and wine, but they will never survive a NYC club or Montana pub.
Leave it to the professionals. Bartending for seven years now, I have seen a lot, done a lot, heard way too much and experienced crap beyond belief. So it is time to share some trade secrets on how to be a good female bartender! Of course the main thing is to know your drinks and be quick and efficient, but everyone knows that, so here are the tips that not everyone knows:
- Be tougher than any bitch or bastard who enters your bar. You need to be able to throw someone out without the help of a bouncer. You need to be stern enough to scare the pants off any drunkard and smart enough to avoid being shot in the process. I have worked at bars where gunshots were fired outside, where knives were pulled inside… you have to be prepared for it all.
- You must be the biggest flirt without giving it all away. Can’t have that shit for free. You need to be able to lure the men without them following you home and make the woman feel flattered to be hit on by a woman without them thinking you want them. I have been followed home once… not a good time. I can’t tell you how many numbers, business cards and men willing to cheat on their wives that I’ve encountered. In my experience, however, don’t mess with the ones who are married… they tend to come with baggage.
- Know at least one bar trick to entertain your customers. At the bar in NYC that I worked at, I was able to draw the attention of the entire bar with my bar trick. My boss would bring in friends and demand that I show them the bar trick. I had customers bring their coworkers to see it… I was a crowd pleaser. The trick you ask? Well I can’t give away all my secrets, but it involves drinking a beer with no hands.
- Provide entertainment for the annoying ones who want to chat with you constantly. Mind games are the best. Lay out a straw puzzle in order to keep their mind occupied. The annoying ones are hard to shake and you’ll never make it as a bartender if you have to sit and talk to one person the entire time.
- Know how to make a bar towel into a penis. That is a great quality to have in a bartender. If you have a penis towel you can attract the females or use it as a weapon against the males. Threatening to dick slap someone can help you control the crazies.
- Handle your liquor. This one is EXTREMELY important. Your patrons want to drink with you; they want to buy you shots. So unless you live in a ridiculous state like Washington, where you can’t drink behind the bar, you best be able to handle those shots. I’m not talking about 3 or 4 shots. I’m talking about 9 or 10 over a 6 hour shift. One night I took 15 shots and was still able to count my till at the end of the night. Granted I can’t do that anymore, I max out around 8, but that is because I work at a lame bar now. If you can drink with your patrons, you will make a great bartender. I remember the shifts after I worked a 12-shot shift and I told the patrons that I wouldn’t be able to drink that night – I completely lost their respect. I learned quickly from that. You need to be able to function on a shitload of alcohol. If you can’t, then might I suggest becoming a shoe salesperson as opposed to a bartender.
Martini at a NYC bar
- As a female bartender you have to know when to say no. It is never smart to sleep with your customers, bosses, bouncers or other bartenders. I have done all of the above and learn from my mistakes… not good. Everyone knows it isn’t smart to sleep with people you work with for obvious reasons so I’ll move on to the customers. Sleeping with your drunk customers can just prove to be difficult. You may lose their business, which will piss your boss off, they may fall in love with you, which will make it awkward for you, or since they are frequent bar goers you may wind up with a disease… and well… you just don’t want that. Also if a man offers you $10,000 to sleep with him – just say no. That is just never a good idea. I said no, my coworker did not. People haven’t seen her since then, apparently she moved to Denver.
- Be physically fit. I’m not saying that you have to be a body builder, but in the instance that you need to drag a 300lb Alabama construction worker out of the bar after he passes out in the girl’s bathroom, it’d be nice if you were strong enough to do so. Plus if you can’t change your own keg then you have no business being behind the bar.
- Have no judgment. You can’t judge people if you work in a bar. After all you work in A BAR! You flirt for money, so don’t judge the hooker who hangs on the business man or the chubby chick who takes advantage of the drunk hot guy. You are there for the money and they are there for the drinks.
- Be a good fake listener. Don’t actually listen to all of the tales of heartache, divorce, indiscretion, fantasy, lust, etc. You’ll go crazy. Listen enough to respond with basic answers but don’t listen enough that you’ll have to start drinking to get over their problems. If you fall into that trap, depression can ensue, which results in hitting up the late night bars for two gin martinis before catching the subway. It happens and it’s not pleasant. Patrons look at you as a cheaper version of a therapist, so be just that. Don’t be the full on therapist, you aren’t paid enough. Listen enough to get their money but not enough to send yourself into a drunken spiral.
Now not everyone can be a super rock star bartender such as myself… (*clearly modest) but to be a good female bartender these tricks of the trade should help you out!
- Alexis Patron
