Such a sharp depression. I haven't felt this blue since I broke up with Felix Montero a thousand lifetimes ago, or so it seems. How long has it been? Eight? Nine years? I am a sap when it comes to nostalgia. Who is Felix Montero, Dear Reader? He is the very reason, the bane of why I moved from Los Angeles, California to Tijuana, Mexico. But, that is another post and I promise you a tale of high romance and bitter heartbreak.
After work dragged along at an abnormally slow pace, I crossed the border into Tijuana and decided to stop for a hot dog. Now for those of you that had never had a Mexican hot dog, I'm telling it to you straight and I'm telling it to you simple, they're quite toothsome. Bacon wrapped around a succulent wiener lounging in a cloud-soft steaming bun loaded with all the trimmings. It's enough to make you misty-eyed.
Well, I'm standing at the mouth of Plaza Santa Cecilia under the Great Silver Arch slashed across the orange sunset sky, chomping down on my dog and watching the hustler boys dash to and fro when this fucking American, this drunk ass tourist wobbles up to me and stands there, tottering, glaring at me with his bloodshot eyes. Now, as for white boys, this guy wasn't that bad-looking. He kinda had that Justin Timberlake look going on. Cute, that is until he opened his mouth.
"Hey, dude, buy me a hot dog and I'll suck your cock." He said with a face as blank as a poker dealer.
I pulled the half-eaten wiener away from my lips and stated flatly, "What if I don't want a blow job, sunshine?"
"Yeah?" He breathed. "But, I'm really hungry and your blue eyes are really hot."
I glared at him and then I looked over to the Mexican Indian serving the hot dogs and handed him several crumpled dollar bills. I said in Spanish, "Give the drunk a hot dog."
The tourist snatched the dog and gobbled it down greedily. I paid for mine and his; said Adios and walked briskly into the chilly night air under the twinkling stars, lost among the throng of holiday shoppers.
Once back at my trap, I got into my pajamas and prepared myself a bowl of chopped apples, pears, and bananas topped with strawberry yogurt. I decided to watch one of the new DVDs that I had purchased the day prior. Many a film freak friend recommended it to me. It was a strange little flick called Bubba Ho-Tep. And it was one of the funniest films I had ever seen! You, Dear Reader, have to see this film! It's about Elvis and a dyed black President Kennedy living in an east Texas retirement home fighting against a soul-eating mummy. A laugh-out-loud yuckfest!
My favorite line is from Bruce Campbell's Elvis: "No thousand-year-old mummy is gonna slap his lips across my asshole!"
Well, after the movie, I decided to go to sleep. Around 4:30 in the morning someone was banging on my front door. I dragged my tired ass to answer it and to my shock and surprise, I found Alfredo standing there drunk with some cooze with her arms wrapped around his hips. Without asking, Alfredo shoves his way into my apartment, plops himself and his cunt onto my sofa, and he mutters something unintelligible. I ask what the fuck is going on, seeing that he is really drunk. He starts making hand gestures, waving for me to return to my room. He began to paw and kiss the bitch he was with and I went literally ape shit! I grabbed his female and yanked her to the floor and jumped on Alfredo and began to punch him in the face and chest. I began sobbing and said in Spanish, "You asshole! I loved you! Do you understand? I loved you!"
Alfredo struggled to the door and walked out with bitch in tow. Walking down the stairs to the street, he stopped and looked up at me, "I can't love a faggot." That hit me in the heart like a physical blow. I returned to my apartment and returned to bed. I was so mad I couldn't go back to sleep. 6:30 rolled around and I got ready for work.
Thoughts raced through my head. I am such an emotional mess. After years of being bitter and cold, I finally opened my heart to someone and this is what I get. Broken and torn is my heart right now. I am one sad cowboy. On the way to work, I had to get off the bus to puke. As I stood leaning over the curb and heaving up my breakfast, I had to wonder how I let myself get into such a nervous wreck. I started this blog after the fact that Alfredo and I separated. We had dated each other for three months and he had lived with me for two. I knew that he was married, but he had said that he wanted to separate from her. But, as time went on his feelings for her returned and that made our relationship go down the crapper. And because of my total devotion to him; he showing deep compassion and tender caring toward me, the separation hit me really hard. I don't trust anyone. Nothing gives me joy. I am as blank and void as a vacuum.
I truly believe I am now destined to traverse this world alone with a frigid and uncaring heart.
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