Yes that's right, we all knew it was coming—the end of Ibanker. Everyone except me. I guess I thought that things could just keep going on the way they were when in reality it was not true. This summer the roller coaster continued. The Hamptons set it off. As the time when his share would begin quickly approached I heard no follow up on my invitation. I was in the midst of my apartment hunting and wanted to know what the hell was going on. I finally asked and it was determined that there was not enough room. I was put off, and became even more so when a few days later I received a text —a spot had opened up in the share and he quoted me a price. I was in shock. I replied that I was under the impression that I would be a guest and I was no longer interested in going. This led to a serious of texts where I expressed my distaste with our situation and he expressed his subsequent confusion. To my surprise he came and met me that very night so we could talk about it. It was an awkward conversation but we each laid our cards out on the table. At the end it was determined that he couldn't commit right now but he liked me and wanted to keep hanging out. I was ok with this—I liked hanging out with him and wanted to keep doing so and I wasn't even sure if I actually wanted him as a boyfriend (drinking problem, no time, massive tooliness—who needs that?). So after this things continued as they were. For awhile, even better, since we both knew what the other was thinking. The texting continued and we hung out a few more times.
During all this, I had slight curveball thrown to me. His friend Yahtzee was beginning to text me a fair amount, asking if I wanted to do things. Now I had gone to his birthday party with Fidel. Ibanker knew this and didn't seem to mind. I still felt weird about hanging out with him though, even though he was one of the original boys from the beach in the Balkan European country last summer. I ended up meeting up with him for a drink once. It was a little awkward but we had fun. And Yahtzee is much more down to earth than Ibanker since he grew up in public housing in Poland instead of a massive house in the Boston suburbs. I was interested to see what our reunion at the Cut Copy concert would bring. Ibanker had invited me months ago; he added me to their email chain with the line “adding ___ because she beat up Deadmau5 in Germany, so if things get weird that will prob be helpful”. But come concert day no plans on where and when to meet had been made. I am a girl who loves a plan so this made me pretty antsy. I ended up waiting outside the concert for about a half hour by myself for these boys to get themselves together and arrive. I was pretty pissed off by the time the first one showed up and even more so when Ibanker waltzed up and announced he had lost his ticket. He of course casually paid double face value from a scalper right before we walked in. Once inside I calmed down a bit, after a Becks and the rest of the party arrived. The concert turned out to be really fun. CC was amazing, as they were at Ultra, and I danced my face off. Ibanker stayed with me the whole time; at one point I was standing in between him and Yahtzee and I could do nothing but chuckle at the ridiculousness. After the show we decided to regroup at a bar down the street. I tried to take my beer with me as we were walking out a security guard told me to throw it away. When I caught back up to them I noticed Ibanker had his phone out. I wasn't trying to look but somehow my bionic vision noticed who he was texting—Emily Evans. He noticed I had returned and quickly put his phone away.
Sidenote: I could not get this incident out of my head. I had a bad feeling. This was made worse when after some research on the part of Fidel and I we discovered she had been in the Hamptons house with him. I have no idea if anything happened between them but I do know this is when the roller coaster began its plummet downward. I knew I couldn't be too upset because it's not like I hadn't been texting other people, I had even hooked up with a couple others. But I still wonder if fucking Emily Evans had something to do with our ending....
We headed to an empty bar down the street where I announced I wanted to sing Ace of Base on the karaoke machine and the boys began yelling “Somebody get this girl some Ace of Base!”. Luckily I was spared. Yahtzee, Ibanker and I hopped in a cab back to Manhattan (I chuckled to myself again as I sat in between them). We met up with Yahtzee's two girl friends in town from Chicago (both Polish, both awesome) and went to an outdoor bar where by the end of the night I was literally eating the rest of our delish hummus platter with a spoon when I thought no one was watching.
Ibanker and I hung out once more after this before the shit hit the fan. It was GF's birthday weekend and I had just left JM and her South Africans. I headed to Soho to meet him at his fav bar Spring Lounge. He was there with some friends, who were pretty tooly but nice. I think. One told me “I like your green dress, and on a Sunday!”. We ordered pizza at the bar and while Ibanker and I were checking the weather on my phone (it was pouring out) a text popped up from the Hot Friend from DC. I know he saw it and I figured we were even. Back at his place, he brought something unexpected up. This led to another talk and it seemed that we might be getting more serious (although still not officially dating). I was surprised but wasn't sure if I should take him seriously or if this was even a good thing. After he said we would get coffee that week, bailed and then didn't follow up on subsequent dinner plans, I knew this was not good. I had a terrible feeling and spent a lot of time stressing. I decided I needed to lay low for awhile. He would still send me stupid texts, but then wouldn't reply when I responded. After he promised dinner and never followed through again I figured he had pretty much moved on.
But of course I cannot let things go so decided to accept the group invitation he sent out to see his friend's band. This was three weeks after I had last seen him. He sent me a short email separately as well so I hoped (dumb) that maybe all was not lost. I chose my outfit carefully and made a special effort to look good that day. When I met him at the Mercury Lounge things seemed fine. He stood with me and chatted and I was excited to see him. The band were his friends from high school and they were fun. After we went with them to another bar further into the Lower East Side. I should've taken the roach I saw in the bathroom there are a bad omen. I walked in and screamed, yet still peed anyway, screamed again, and ran out. Once back upstairs I continued to have fun until Ibanker said he was going to get going, he had to get up early. I was shocked. There had never been a time when I hadn't gone back with him, no matter how early he had to get up. I had reached my breaking point. My comment “Don't worry about it, I'm used to you blowing me off at this point” led to a slightly heated discussion at the bar, then me crying in a cab. He had accompanied me on my cab ride to the nearest L stop and hopped out with me. We were standing in front of the 1st ave stop facing each other. I have no idea how long we were there. Things were not going well. He was apologizing but I knew we were not on the same page. I gave him a stiff, quick hug and practically ran down the subway steps before I started crying more. Which I did as soon as I got on the train. Some Russian people down the car were laughing at me as I stood there silently with tears running down my cheeks. Certainly not the highlight of my time in New York. When I was home he called me. Our conversation to solidify our ending. The result of it was my not being able to take his erratic behavior anymore led to him telling me we should probably just be friends since he keeps hurting me. He didn't want there to be any expectations though how he thinks there would not be after 8 months of hanging out must mean he is delusional. I told him that I had plenty of friends and I didn't need any more. I also said plenty of other things and I am at least pleased that I was stern and said what I really thought. But friends. And not even in the true sense of the word, but friends as in we can talk every once in awhile, meaning, when he feels like it. I am of course offended and stupefied and angry and most of all hurt. I know that this wasn't going anywhere and that he was not the greatest but I had grown attached—he was my Mr. Big. New York seems strange without Mr. Big. I will have sour feelings for awhile regarding a lot of the places we had gone together in this city. And I especially will for the Balkan European country of....Croatia.
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