June 9, 2004 - Fire Water Burned

I was dating The Luser at the time, and he'd gone home for the holidays to see his mom but had bothered to tell me neither her phone number nor her full name. Considering that she was divorced from his father and had gone back to her maiden name, I had nothing to go on. He also hadn't called or e-mailed me for a couple weeks, and I was really put out.

Strangely, I worried about every possibility under the sun — perhaps something tragic had happened, perhaps he didn't realize that the area code had recently changed in my area — and for some odd reason, didn't consider the possibility that he was just a jerk who was running away from our relationship, only a few months old.

To get my mind off things, my sister invited me to celebrate New Year's with some old friends of hers from high school. They were having a party in Kutztown, where one of them was going to school. And while it didn't promise to be anything spectacular, we were promised good friends, alcohol and fun.

We did have a great time that evening. While the festivities swirled around me, I tried to throw myself into them and forget about my worries, which got easier as the night went on. The party goers were a very silly crowd, many of them gay or bisexual, and most of them had an outrageous sense of humor.

I spent a lot of time admiring the collage on the wall of the apartment where my sister's friend, an artist, had cut out advertisements and pictures from magazines, all of which used sexuality, and filled the entire wall. It became an ironic look at the way sexuality is used to sell things.

Shortly before midnight, we all stood in a circle in the big living room, and we shared wishes for the new year. Then at midnight, we danced around, cheered and kissed each other.

Somebody once told me that the kiss you get on New Year's is indicative of the rest of the year. So I thought later about the fact that my first kiss that year was a breezy peck on the lips by a flirty, drunk gay guy. Story of my life. Well, at least until more recently.

One partygoer continually dropped the fact that she was dating the former drummer of Bloodhound Gang. This was when the group's hit, "Fire Water Burn," was getting serious airplay. Her boyfriend, it turns out, had left the group before they recorded this hit.

My sister and I talked about it later and agreed that if you were going to brag about your association with a band, Bloodhound Gang would not be the one you'd brag about.

That night, four or five of us slept on the double bed in my sister's friend's room, sleeping crossways on top of the covers, to fit more people. I lay awake for a long time, wondering where The Luser had spent his New Year's, if he had thought about me. Trying, against hope, to telepathically send him a message, "Call me."

That night I had a cryptic dream that The Luser was blind and trying to find his eyes. I later interpreted it as perhaps he was trying to find himself and that's why he'd gone away without contacting me. Now, of course, I think the dream was about myself, and my inability to see the truth about him.

The Bloodhound Gang girl, a pale-skinned Caucasian, woke up the next morning on the couch. Her hair, which she had lacquered into tight curls against her head, looked exactly the same as when she'd gone to bed. Nevertheless, she sat on the couch, staring into a compact mirror, fussing with and spraying down her hair.

A bunch of us struggled out into the cold and walked the several blocks to the nearby diner, where we had a late breakfast before climbing into a friend's van and driving home.

It would be a total of five weeks before The Luser would return, and when he did, I found out through another friend. Even so, I didn't do the smart thing and stop seeing him. That didn't happen until a month later when I heard from a friend he was cheating on me.

Five months after that, against my better judgment, I started seeing him again on the sly, being careful to avoid my sister, who had already warned me against him. Three months later, he moved in with me and became a dreadful drain on my financial resources and emotional health.

And five months after that, I finally saw the light and kicked that no-good Luser out for good.

But back at that New Year's party, how superior I'd felt to that girl with the plastic hair, bragging about dating the former drummer of a one-hit wonder, a guy who left the band before they recorded their hit song. And for all I know, the worst thing he ever did was suck.

Moral:
You're better off with a loser than a Luser.