me’s blog

So it seems Jackie’s a catalyst (Jackalyst?) for me, since once again she has quietly whirled me into a cyclone of memories.  This time I’m all in a tizzy about love ‘n stuff.  It all started with her innocent, out-of-the-blue text message last week:  "So, what do you know about Rufus Wainwright?"

My response:  "Oh, there’s a story there."

I fell in love with Rufus back in 1999, when it seemed every 5 minutes I was either being mistaken for him or being asked if I knew how closely I resembled him.  My hair was longer and I was more thrift-store-clad then, and I could see the resemblance.  Plus I was prolifically churning out similarly confessional songs at that point too, so the comparison was both flattering and rather appropriate.

My first exposure to his music was on a listening station at Tower Records, where I heard a song of his called "Heartburn" on a compilation of recordings from all the various members of his musical family.  It was love at first listen.  I then bought his full-length solo debut, and listened to it non-stop for weeks.

The first time I saw him in concert was on a Sunday at the 9:30 Club here in Washington, DC.  Opening for him was none other than Imogen Heap. (How’s THAT for a pair?)  I went with a couple friends, and we hung out to get something or other signed after the show.  Rufus asked us where people go in DC on a Sunday night, and I, trying to mask my wanton star-struck lust, stuttered out something or other about Lizard Lounge.

Later that evening at Lizard Lounge, I looked over to the bar and there was Rufus, talking to some guy.  I went over and basically carried a couple watermelons (props if you get that reference), which basically means I laid a few awkward conversational eggs, and pouted from afar the rest of the night while some other guy romanced my Rufus.

Flash forward to a couple weeks later, when I performed one of my own songs in the first half of the ill-fated Monday Night "Diva Las Vegas" (groan) drag show at Omega.  It was the sleazy spoken-word jazzy cabaret number "Like That", and I performed it dressed in a man’s suit with stubble and a cigarette.  I was pleased with my performance, but of course it went right over the heads of the handful of not-yet-drunk-enough people that were in the bar at the time.

So this guy comes up to me afterwards and tells me how great my performance was, how he "got it", and how he really liked the music I was performing to.  Once I told him I’d written and recorded the song myself, we started talking and didn’t stop talking until 6am the following morning.  His name was Brandon, and he ended up being to-date the most significant intimate relationship I’ve had in my life.  We spent nearly every second together for two months (yes, just two months), and we were both high as kites - both emotionally and pharmaceutically.  In early June we drove to Florida for a week to visit his family, to look for a place to live together, and to go to Gay Days at Disneyworld, when out of nowhere he decided to dump me without explanation.  We’ll get back to that in a minute, but…

That very first night together we talked until 6am, and at one point Brandon asked me if anyone ever told me how closely I resembled Rufus Wainwright.  I laughed and told him I got that all the time, and as a matter of fact I’d seen Rufus and met him after his show at the 9:30 Club.  Brandon told me that he, too, was at the show, and actually had met Rufus later that night at Lizard Lounge.  It was then that we realized we’d met before.  Brandon was the guy who’d been sitting at the bar with Rufus, and we had been briefly introduced during that awkward couple of minutes I spent unsuccessfully trying to clumsily steal Rufus away for myself.  Turns out Brandon ended up going back to the hotel that night with my doppleganger and yadda yadda yadda.  Small, funny, weird, incestuous world.  Brandon certainly had a type.

But back to the love, the pain, the fear that Jackalyst (hee!) has unearthed by reminding me of this story.  I think I’m terrified of real, intimate love.  I want it more than anything, and I definitely think I’m ready for it - much more now than, say, when I was snorting drain-cleaner-and-battery-acid-based products into my nostrils.  But oh my God the pain I felt after that unceremonious dismissal way back in 1999 is something I never want to feel again, nor is it something I’m certain I could survive again.  It’s now 7 years later, and I still remember crying, howling, heaving for 24 hours non-stop on the porch at Brandon’s parents’ house, terrified that there was literally nothing left inside of me.  Now, nearing 30, I find myself beginning to wonder if I’m ever going to learn how to do it right.  I haven’t had the practice relationships or the dress rehearsals that everyone else seems to have with seemingly painless regularity.  If/when the real thing does come along, will I fuck it up because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing?  Or will I dismiss it without even acknowledging the potential because I’m too scared to even let myself take the chance?

A friend I occasionally chat with on AIM recently offered the theory that I want everyone to like me, but the minute anyone wants to get any closer, I shut down.  This was a really nice, really cute guy that I barely knew who was interested in me, which kind of proves his point.  There was really nothing to be afraid of, yet I still managed to keep myself just out of his reach.  I like being liked, but am I loathe to being loved?

Damn you Rufus.

HEARTBURN

Is this heartbreak or is this heartburn?
Have I been played or do I need a Rolaid?
Gotta learn the difference ‘tween "I love you"
The difference ‘tween "I love you" and the symptoms of ebola

Is this heartbreak or is this heartburn?
Can I be spared from being so dramatic?
Gotta learn the difference ‘tween "I love you"
The difference ‘tween "I love you" and a derailed rollercoaster

Gonna rain down on my sunny Sunday shoes
Guess I’d best get some galoshes

Let me tell you that this song’s useful
Yes this song’s useful when you’re really drunk
And you gotta learn the difference ‘tween "I love you"
The difference ‘tween "I love you" and "whatever"

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