The Beast's Lament

Justin –

There’s only so much torture one can inflict on another.  I’ve had enough.  I hit my best friend because he said something utterly horrible about you…something I will not repeat, because I’ll end up going off again.  My BEST FRIEND – 17 years potentially down the toilet in one blow (funny I should say “toilet.”  The irony of you and I meeting again at the toilet wasn’t lost on me).  The rest of the peanut gallery ostracized me, but he forgave me.  He always forgives – except when it comes to you.  He’s taking our breakup harder than me – and believe me, I’m taking it pretty hard.  Don’t let what you’ve seen fool you.  That’s why I’m writing this letter – and may you never, ever find it.

Sure, we made up – I’ve been dragging him all over Liberty with me.   It’s not the same as it was before.  Before, he always had to drag me to Babylon and Woody’s.  Now it’s the reverse – I’m taking him away from his wifely duties with Ben to hang out with his old pal.  He’s really not into it anymore, just keeping me company – I suspect he’s only doing it to keep me from doing harm to myself (not that I’d do that, mind you – but you know how Mikey is).

I can’t believe you thought I’d renege on paying your tuition!  What kind of asshole do you think I am?  Although we’re not together, that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring about you and your future.  I want you to become a raging success in the art world.  I want to tell people I knew you when you were a struggling artist drawing pictures of my dick.  I want you to be able to pay me back – LOL – only kidding.  I care about you Justin – I always have, and I always will.  Do what you have to do.  And dammit, WORK ON THE COMIC!  I think you and Mikey are idiots to pass up such an opportunity over petty differences.

I’ve been watching you go through the motions with your schoolboy for months now, and I can’t see the happiness.  I don’t see the open, unbridled joy I saw before when you were with me – at least before everything went to shit.  Is this truly what you want?  Is this what you left me for?  Are you happy, or do I need a different pair of eyes to see you?

What is it about breakups that make one half of the former couple look gorgeous and the other half pathetic?  You’re hotter than ever these days, and it takes every ounce of strength I have to keep from touching you.  If truth be told, other than the fact that you’re brilliant, I wanted you to do the poster so I could still see you.

You were so scared when we worked on that poster.   You wouldn’t even get close to me until I asked.  And then we could have taken that closeness anywhere we wanted – until Mikey broke the spell.  You really didn’t have to go; but you looked like a tortured kitten when he came in, so I let you go. 

Mikey and I yukked it up for an hour or so over Chinese food and pot…kinda like old times.  Did I tell you Satan, I mean, Melanie, wants me to sire her demon spawn?  I was all against it until Mikey said we queers should spawn just to piss off straight people.  And then she turned me down!  Bitch!  Oh, well – the thought of an offspring between us was scarier than the visions I was having when Lindsay talked me into siring Gus during my acid trip.  It’s no loss for me, really.  Mikey’s going to bat for her.  I just thought you’d want to know.

I’m still not seeing the domestic bliss with you.  Like that day on the corner – you were so comfortable with me.  We could almost be friends – until he came along and you shut down.  What is it about us that makes people want to shatter the bubble that surrounds us?  First Mikey does it, then your violinist.  I literally saw your sun set – the light in your eyes dimmed, you tensed up.  You acted like you were committing a crime to be seen with me.  And then your fiddler whisked you away so forcefully I wanted to hit him. 

You showed up at Carnivale anyway – alone.  I wanted to just fling my arms around you and tell you how much I missed you, but damn – you’ve got that Ian character now, and you don’t look happy with him, but he gives you roses and romance, right?  Don’t tell me the bloom is off the rose already? 

Sure, that guy in the mask was cruising me, but I wasn’t all that interested in him.  I just wanted to show you I’d moved on.  You bailed on me as usual.  If you’d stuck around longer you would have seen me leave immediately after that moment.  And you would have seen my new car…hee!

It was so good to see you again at the loft, even if it was merely in the doorway.  When you gave me my bracelet, I knew you were the one who saved my ass.  Thank you.  And then you had to torture me by putting the damn thing back on my wrist.  Do you know how much it was killing me to have your hands on me after all these weeks?  You looked even more gorgeous than the last time I saw you.  I just cleared my throat and shifted to suppress the stiffening in my groin and endured it.  You could have kissed me and I wouldn’t be any harder!  Then I reminded you of your boyfriend, but you didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave me.  I felt so hopeful after you left – not hopeful – confident.  You’ll be back; just wait and see.

I’m not surprised Ian took the bait and signed that contract.  I would have done the same if I were in his shoes.  There’s nothing noble about being poor.  Think about it – Ian can get rich on his record deal, and then come out if he wishes, because he’ll have, as the late George Schickel said, “Fuck ‘em all money.”  If he is going to give you the happy, romantic life you crave, it only makes sense for him to afford it.  I planted the seed in his ear; it was his responsibility to suppress it or let it grow.  He chose the latter, and now you’re pissed at me.

I could have been a little less harsh with you that night.  But I was angry – here you were, interrupting an amazing blowjob and reaming me out because your boyfriend “sold out.”  Not only that, but you looked so fucking beautiful – all that fire in your eyes; that flaxen hair falling so perfectly.  You looked more alive that night than I’d seen you in weeks.  The more I see you, the better you look and it’s killing me.  I was too busy concentrating on your beauty, and knowing that none of it was available for me anymore.  I felt like you were taunting me – “I have something you can’t have, neener neener…” and I lashed out.  I hope, if anything, that my angry words woke you the hell up to reality.  Romance doesn’t pay the bills, Sunshine. 

So – the bastard got you a ring.  You don’t seem too enthused about it – if you’re supposedly “engaged,” where’s the bliss?  Where’s the beaming smile I’ve seen on my sister Claire when she was about to marry my asshole ex-brother-in-law?   I could have ripped on you further, but I had to get to work.

I saw you again, alone without your fiancé, at Woody’s.  You just don’t know how painful it is for me to look at you now.  You look like someone shot your cat right now, and I feel like it’s my fault.  But even with that despondent, tired, wounded look on your face as you toy with your ring, you look stunning.  I braced myself for a backlash, and approached you.  I offered you a drink, you turned me down.  I asked about the fiancé, and you just said, “Playing somewhere.”  Did you hear the jealousy in my voice when I pointed out your ring? 

After that minor exchange I had to go – being in your presence makes me want to either kiss you, or choke you for putting me through hell.

Anyway, that’s what’s going on with me in a nutshell. We’ll meet again – and maybe this time I won’t feel like someone’s plunging a knife in my gut whenever I see you.

Love,
Brian

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