so, how's it goin?

I realized yesterday that for all the "I don't want to talk about the ex (who I admit, I think of more as a boyfriend at the moment) this blog is about Barcelona, damnit!" I did, my last few posts have been all about the ex. I worried this would happen once I opened that can of worms.

I suck.

Sooo....


observations about my life here. Today American Boss and I met with Mati, the Argentinian (shut up, good spelling is for losers) rockstar who was hired to do distribution. He TOTALLY looks like the lost member of Spinal Tap from the tight, black tapered jeans to the bowl/shag cut and pornstar moustache, black leather vests, skinny frame and tattoos. He seems to have his shit together, though. The thing is, with his accent he's rather hard to understand. I admit this, but I don't talk to him so much as write to him so it's okay. Then later tonight he said hi to me as he passed me on his scooter in Barceloneta, once again proving this is a small city.

Ugh, god, really not much more to report. Powers of observation are going downhill. I need sleep.

Damn Ex. Damn him.

Welcome to the Twilight Zone

Okay, so I know I said I didn't want to talk about my ex, and really, I still don't. But last night cannot go undocumented. If I had an audience they would eat this stuff up. I don't have one, but I still have to write this for myself and the sake of my own memories.


So, Ex tried to break up with me on Friday night. Friday is his one day off and I magically, accidentally had it off, too, so I wanted us to hang out. There was the Merce festival this weekend so we went to see some fireworks at the beach around 10. Before that we went to the bar where he works and hung out a bit with friends and regulars, then hit the beach. Afterwords we walked by the fería (carnival) set up along the water and then had dinner at Petra, a really pretty, inexpensive restaurant I've been wanting to go to since before he got back.

We had a great time all day. At one point he even said to me, "Eres muy linda", which means "you're very nice", something he hadn't said in ages. Anywho, after Petra I didn't want the night to end so he bought me a couple of drinks and I bought him a couple as well. I guess I purposely got him drunk, but it wouldn't be the first time.

We got back here all tipsy and started talking about stuff, and eventually it came out that he wanted to break up for a variety of stupid, selfish reasons (yes, I am editorializing. Fuck off). I slept on the floor that night, not wanting to be next to someone who didn't want to be next to me. He didn't even notice.

The next day while he slept I packed a bag and made a reservation at a hostel in Girona. I thought it best not to be around him and not to wait for him to come home from work on Saturday night. He offered to go to the museum with me. I declined. We started to talk. In the end, he hugged me and said, "You ARE my girlfriend."

Bingo. :)


But it doesn't end there. How could it? That was Friday and today is Tuesday, so bah. There must be more to the story.

Saturday he was pretty nice. I went out with the business school kids and ultimately ended up at a club called Luz de Gas which was very enjoyable: good music in English, large space, lots of people, good company. I had a little fun. ;)

I came home at 6am and Ex was asleep. To be honest, I was a little disappointed there wasn't a call on my phone about 4am asking where I was. I guess this personifies how different we want our relationship to be.

Anyway, I spent Sunday night in. I stopped by his bar to talk to some regulars and say hi. He was really sweet to me and said he wished he could take me home. I wished I could take him. I stopped by the neighborhood fería in Barceloneta and saw little old grandmas shakin their bootied while making bocadillos at a stand, so I had to buy one while I listed to the music and watched people dance in the street beneath a canopy of pink streamers. It was a real street fair.

I went home and passed out. Ex came home and took a bath without me, which kinda hurt.

Monday morning he woke up pissy. This is not uncommon these days. After doing my best to make him feel better I left to go to the beach and then see my boss at HIS bar for her birthday around 6, when his shift started. I showed up at 7 and he still hadn't come. He hadn't answered my text at 5:40, either, nor the call I made when I got to the bar.

I started to worry because, you see, the reason he is an ex has to do with the Other Woman. I will not go into much detail except to say that she was his best friend's gf, and even as I type those last words I cannot believe I want to be with this manchild after everything he has done. Oh well.

Anyway, he was late and didn't have much of an excuse so I started to worry. I came back here and did some things I shouldn't have done on his computer. Then I went to see fireworks with the business school kids. I got stranded in Maria Cristina, the neighborhood Ex was living in when I met him 4 years ago. Feeling both nostalgic and sorry I hailed a cab (too rich for my blood, really) and took it to his bar, ready to confess and apologize for what I had done.

It was 1am. I walked by the bar and who do I see from the street but the Other Woman in all her dreadlocked glory.

I admit, I freaked a little. I took a walk around the block, then crossed the street and called my best friend in London. She said not to wait for him at home and confront him, but to just walk in. I made her stay on the line and I did so.

There she was. Talking to a regular, the bar empty but for the two of them, me, Ex and the other bartender. As I said, Welcome to the Twilight Zone. I ignored everyone while I was on the line, but when the OT was in the bathroom I hung up and talked to the regular. OT came out and I said hello. She offered me a cigarette and my hands shook as I took it. The regular left, leaving us to talk while Ex swept. We were ushered outside on our own while the gents closed the bar's shutters.

Holy Christ.

We talked about her school, about my jobs, about all nature of things. A neighbor lady yelled at us to move around the corner. We did, and with our change of direction seemed to come an inability to speak. I thought about saying something about the situation but didn't have the balls.

We waited, and Ex came out. We all three walked together in near silence, though what little conversation there was was polite. OT lives near Ex, and so we all stood outside his door. As she left I turned to him and said, "Can I talk to her?" He was like, "What? Now?" And when he said no I took off after her.

I asked in Spanish, "Can we talk?" and so it began. The Talk.

I walked her all the way to her house, then we sat on a bench outside. It was easier than I thought it would be, but still not easy at all. We talked for at least 2 hours. Nothing nasty. Not at all. Not one thing. Just us, what happened, what we want and what we feel. She says she doesn't love him anymore. She says she isn't ready for a serious relationship and needs to be alone. I told her that if anything happens between them she should let me know because he won't. I told her we should email. She said she didn't have my emails address. I said, smiling, "tengo tuyo". After all, I did read his emails.

It was good. I felt good. Calm. Better than anything so far.

I got home and Ex was PISSED. He discovered the fooling around I had done on his computer, and wanted to know what we had talked about for so long. I will say the fact that he could wait up sleepless for that and not for the night I was out with god knows who is more than a little disturbing.

He is still angry. Silent treatment, actually. But on the bright side he has to talk in order to break up with me. ;)

And yet, I still feel pretty good. I emailed OT last night and she wrote back today. I wrote again today. To be honest, I always liked her, which is why when things happened between her and Ex I was as shocked and hurt as I was. She seemed so nice. I wanted to double date with her and her BF. She had met me and had me over for dinner at her house. What the fuck, people?

I told her I didn't hate her, and for some strange reason I don't. I told her I'm not mad, I'm just tired. This is true. To be honest, I would almost rather be her friend than Ex's girlfriend considering his mood these days. But as I'm guessing she doesn't feel the same I guess I'll have to take what I can get.

Like she said in her email this is just another example of la vida y su ironia. :) I think I will remember this for a long time. I'm glad I have some balls, even if they are tiny.

Oh, and I think I got a new internship for when I return. Seems better, but I always have trouble with decisions, change, and honoring commitments. I suck.

As the OT signs off on her emails:

Chau!

whoops!

Last night ex caught me checking his text messages. This would be bad enough, but we had been having an amazing night. He came home unannounced an hour early and I was sitting here at the computer in my bathrobe with my hair brushed, for a change.

it was the first time I hadn't visited him at work. He came in, saw me and SMILED, which he never does when he sees me.

Everything was going so well. He said he was happy to see me. He said he loved me. We showered together (not much funny business, just nice to have company) and I came in here. That's when he caught me. I admitted it and apologized but the party was over.

Oh, well. Can you REALLY blame me?


In other news I just found out I don't work tomorrow AND that Monday is a holiday. Nice, but I like money, so I dunno.

Gotta pee. A lot.

pork legs and sequined G strings

These are a few of my favorite things.


Okay, maybe not really. I haven't been here in a while, which sucks, because I have done/seen a few interesting things. I tried to make a list one day of things to blog about, but that obviously never got taken seriously.

A few mentionable updates:

I was at a party with the business school kids and met a nice girl named Jessica. I might have ignored her normally but I am trying to work on my people skills and talking to strangers (I'm not antisocial, just fucking lazy). Jessica turned out to be Jessica Coen, the editor of www.gawker.com. I had only found out about Gawker a few weeks before and considered applying for their internship, but of course didn't. I really have to be more proactive, or balls-out, if you will. Anyway, I met her and she gave me her card and it was cool. I emailed and sent her a link to this sorry thing (see? wasn't that balls out?) but of course I never heard back, which is okay. She warned me that I wouldn't and I honestly didn't think I would. No harm in trying to be a sycophant once in a while, though.

What else ... met a few guys, most of which were losers. The saddest case might have been Zach, a naive 26 year old from Portland. Zach took 7 years to graduate college and hence seemed about 22, but a geeky, first-time-to-Europe 22. I think he developed a crush on me, but hey, the geeks always do. He sent me a funny little drunk email that I will post here later simply for the sake of ridicule and because I'm a bitch.

I also met Tyler the other night who is a lumbering, beast of a 24 year old. Also his first time in Europe, and his Americanness could be spotted a mile away not only by his size and close-cropped haircut but also his new, gray tshirt with a sports team's name emblazoned across it and the camera bag slung around his chest and shoulder like a purse. I emailed asking if this was his first time in BCN to which he emailed back, "Where is BCN? I've never here before so I don't know where anything is."

Umm....

Tyler was with a bunch of small-town Canuks whose monosyllabic names and looooooong vowels hit a little too close to home to make me feel comfortable. I did not speak to them for long at all. Alas, I AM a true bitch.

What else? The ex came back unannouced over a week ago, which was a less than pleasant surprise. We fought because he didn't tell me he was coming and because I left his room messy. I keep trying to say if I KNEW he was coming I would have cleaned, but somehow everything is still my fault and my argument makes no sense whatsoever. To be honest, I don't wish to discuss him much, if at all.

Now, about the title of my post. One of the flatmates had a birthday party last night (did not know it was his bday tell he told us that afternoon, did not know he's only 25 til he told me that evening) and one present was a pork leg. I came into the kitchen this evening to find it there, hoof and all, propped up on its special stand. I'm not freaked out about it in the least, I think it's just noteworthy. I walked in, looked at it, went "huh" and left it at that.

Where was I coming home from, you may ask? (No, of course you won't). There was an outdoor stage set up in my neighborhood to celebrate una semana Mexicana since Mexico's independence day was this week. Tonight the stage featured a weird, vaudvillesque show hosted by a huge-busted 50something woman in sparkly attire and her male counterpart. The two of them had the typical act you see satirized in movies where they complain about sex and at one point she took her golden handbag and was waving it in front of his crotch and making noises as if attempting to awaken a sleeping baby. (Tzeee tzee tzeee tezee). There were also weird dance numbers including: a flamenco-like couple playing with those rolly toys on strings that all the hippies are so fond of (no, not yo-yos), a woman LIP SYNCHING to sweet Georgia Brown and ultimately removing her flapper dress and pageboy wig to reveal a sequined thong set and flaming red hair and a dance number with our aging hostess that featured 4 women in similar red thongs and 2 men in red pants and black mesh shirts. I have never been on a cruise nor have I been to Vegas, but I imagine this to be the poor man's version of the kind of enterainment one might find there. It was gaudy and kitchsy and weird and outdated and therefore very Spanish. I didn't understand anything, but I still don't feel like I was missing out.

Anyway, I should go to bed. Before that I DESPERATELY need to shower for the fist time in about 2 days. But that seems like so much work ...

p.s. Ex and I are supposedly back on. Don't worry, I don't really believe it, either.

Buenas noches señoras y señores!