What am I doing…why am I on the floor right now…why am I crying? I knew leading up to this that I had yet to reach my low point, but I didn’t think it would happen on a night when my best friend was visiting me in New York City. Poor Penny. Homegirl didn’t know I was about to be leavin’ her at a New York nightclub on her first visit to the city. So much SMH on my end. So much emotional instability.
WHO KNEW THEY STILL MADE FOUR LOKO’s??? It was our lucky night! Penny and I found ourselves in a convenience store on 96th street that was just a little too convenient. Cheap alcohol and a kick of nostalgia was just what we two pretty ladies thought was needed.
I was wrong. We were both wrong.
After chasing our draaank with Dole mandarin orange cups, we hit the streets, hopped on the 6 and headed downtown to meet our fabulous friend James and homegirl Frankie. We found ourselves at a gay sports bar in the Lower West Side, and one could say I was charmed by the flashing televisions playing Sports Center and the rambunctious crowd of good-looking gays in jerseys. The liquid courage began to sink in, but instead of it bringing me to meet someone at the bar, the Four Loko decided I should try to get attention from someone in Spanish Harlem via text message.
Joshua was a mutual friend in the city. I first met him a month ago at a rooftop party in Brooklyn with mah fashion PR girl Emily. We tried to figure out if he was straight or not but I was pretty certain the odds were in my favor.
Joshua and I really clicked and even found out we were born two hours apart from each other. Creepy! And just like Rachel Green (#FriendsSwag #WhatUpJennifer), I became obsessed with saying his name: JOSHUA. JOSH-OOO-AHHH. JOSH-WA. I really hope some of you remember that episode.
Things started to become blurry as I texted Joshua. Who knew what I was texting, all I know was that I liked him and that I wasn’t sure if he felt the same.
Suddenly, I became distracted by the music and found myself dancing on a pool table…
“I don’t want to go into your f**king club!” I sassily exclaimed at the rude and gross club promoter who wouldn’t let us in to the establishment.
“OK, move along then.” He said.
Why was I getting into a fight with a club promoter? Obvious reason was because I was drunk, I had the Four Loko and then continued with drinks at the first bar we went to, but also because I am…well…insecure. And insecurities come out when you’re most vulnerable. At this moment of hysteria, I was extremely vulnerable.
The logical explanation as to why the four of us weren’t getting in to the club was because we were with two girls and this was a gay club. But to me, and my insecure crazy mind, I believed the promoter wasn’t letting us in because I was too ugly to be welcomed by the gorgeous gays who ran the streets of NYC. I couldn’t compete. I felt like the ugly duff friend who watches his friends get hit on while he sips on club soda and lime in the corner of a booth in some godforsaken dive bar. On the brink of tears, I fled the scene, leaving James, Frankie and Penny in the dust. They chased after me as I hailed a cab and hopped in.
“Robert, don’t do this, he’s an a**hole, don’t pay him any attention. Let’s go somewhere else.” Penny said.
But the damage was already done. I had made up my mind. I told the cab driver to take me home. At this point, I was already crying and calling everyone in my phone. My friends in Arizona panicked as they tried to comfort me. The whole world was spinning. I got out of the cab and stumbled to my building.
And then, there I was lying at the top of an empty stairwell, unable to access the roof of the building, where I wished to jump. Every bold bitch move and every giant step toward self confidence had dwindled and gone away. I was losing it, and no one could understand just what it felt like to be alone in your own thoughts, telling you, you aren’t good enough. It was always me. I was the demon.
And in that moment, I did something I hadn’t done in a very very long time.
I called Jayden Tucker.
to be continued…
Read Part Two here.