"Love With a Proper Stranger and LOUIE"
For those of you that have dropped in to read my recollections of self-discovery, fear, laughter, love found, love gone wrong, loneliness and addiction, I've discovered that in my own writing I'm getting impatient.
Where did Greg and Matt go wrong? In the end it's ALL our fault, mine, my family, my friends and yes, Greg. After the back surgery, it was quite clear I had changed. I went back to NO/AIDS Task Force September 10, 2001 and we all know happened the next day. I think 9/11 changed all of us down to our psyches. I was already on an arsenal of medications to keep me calm, but this event fueled even more fear and uncertainty. Soon I began to mix alcohol with the medications. I was surrounded by so many but felt so alone.
I began to act out against Greg who became emotionally paralyzed where I was concerned. I would work all day, but still felt the need to "run." I started the ritual of going to happy hour directly from the office. Soon this behavior would spiral to all-nighters. I could easily be out until three in the morning and jump out of bed at six and get ready for work. I was still sleeping in the guest bedroom. I felt this enormous guilt along with an urgency to send Greg a message: I was out of control. I could see the signs of crying in Greg's eyes in the morning when we crossed paths. He was lost, lonely and felt betrayed, but sadly, so did I.
In the mean time, the NO/AIDS Task Force had become a pisshole of stress and politics. I was not equipped to deal with either one. I was exhausted and manic trying to keep control at the office which escalated into a pissing contest between me my boss. No matter what I did, it was never enough. Okay, to sum things up, not only was I a loser at home but also at work.
At times, there were glimmers of the old me. Greg and I would grab dinner at Joey K's, one of many great New Orleans neighborhood diners on Magazine Street. The owner knew I worked for NO/AIDS and approached me one night asking for help with one of his tenants. In one of his units in back of the restaurant resided "Louie" a gentleman in the advanced stages of AIDS. The owner was allowing him to live rent free and was feeding him from the restaurant. He wanted the Task Force to get involved as his own attempts to guide the man to help failed. After dinner we went to see Louie. The apartment was dark and cold and the conditions were deplorable.
Louie was in bed and not responsive. All I could see was the skeletal form of a man I thought was dead. Somehow, I was not afraid to walk up to him. I sat next to him on the bed and called out his name. He opened his eyes as I began to ask him simple questions to see if he could understand me. I introduced myself and asked him would he mind if someone from my office came to talk to him. I told him I wanted to help him feel better. I spoke to him softly as I could see he was afraid. I looked around and saw filty clothes, soiled bedding on the floor and ice cream containers with sputum near the bed.
The caregiver in me kicked in at high speed. I gathered all the dirty clothes in the bedroom and bathroom as roaches scurried. I took the sheets as well. I assured Louie I would get him the help he needed. Greg and I headed home so I could wash everything. In the pocket of a pair of Louie's jeans was a "buffalo nickel." I put it aside. The owner of the restaurant would wait for me. After three hours I had everything washed and folded and went back to Louie's place. I changed his sheets and placed all the clean clothes on a large dresser. The owner of Joey K's and Louie were grateful. I returned to NO/AIDS the next day and alerted client services about Louie and gave them the owner of Joey K's phone number.
Because Greg was on the board of NO/AIDS, I often came home bitching about the endless politics of working for the non-profit. Greg refused to get involved. I obviously did not belong in this position as it was an enormous conflict of interest. To make matters worse, Greg was named a co-chair of my department, pure lunacy.
One Sunday evening, I had enough as Greg and I got into another pointless "discussion" about the NO/AIDS situation. This was on the heels of "Art Against AIDS", an annual holiday gala fund-raiser. I headed to the French Quarter bars to escape. That night I would meet a University of New Orleans student who saw me sitting alone. He walked over with another beer for me. "Looks like misery needs company" he offered. Jeff sat with me for a few hours and was not only entertaining but smart. He had a buzz cut and big green eyes and towered over me at about 6 ft. 5 in. There was something laying heavy on his mind as well, but he only cared about making me laugh.
We would go back to his place. We sat on his couch and talked a little more when he asked if he could just hold me. I moved closer to him and he pulled me into his lap. "I have something to tell you. I'm not like most guys." "What do you mean?" I said. "Promise you won't leave?" I took a more serious tone: "Okay Jeff, what's up?" He started to tear up "I recently was operated on and I'm undergoing treatment for testicular cancer." I made a huge sigh and smiled telling him: "That's much better than I have a big knife and I'm going to kill you." He laughed through the tears. We headed to his bedroom as Jeff slowly undressed, I held him and told him everything was okay. I told him about my crumbling relationship and he told me about juggling school and the illness. We cried off and on, both needing someone to hold, to understand.
The next thing I knew it was 4 a.m. I had a radio interview to do at 6 a.m. and local morning TV show appearance promoting "Art Against AIDS." I kissed Jeff good-bye and told him to tune in. He was laying naked on his bed when he signaled me to go to him, he gently kissed me again.
I went home and showered and the phone rang for the first interview. Radio morning talk DJ Ed Clancey always enjoyed interviewing me. In my first spot with him I mentioned that I fell asleep in one of his journalism talks at my high school. We giggled like school girls and hit it off immediately. He always described me as "the ever gregarious Matt Cortez." What a crock, what an act, I thought to myself.
Greg awoke, again ignoring the fact that I had been out all night. I would not kiss Greg good-bye, not on the heels of jumping out of bed with Jeff. I headed to the local CBS-TV affiliate to do the morning show. My mom would call as I headed to the office after the TV spot. "You looked tired." she remarked. YA' THINK!
Where did Greg and Matt go wrong? In the end it's ALL our fault, mine, my family, my friends and yes, Greg. After the back surgery, it was quite clear I had changed. I went back to NO/AIDS Task Force September 10, 2001 and we all know happened the next day. I think 9/11 changed all of us down to our psyches. I was already on an arsenal of medications to keep me calm, but this event fueled even more fear and uncertainty. Soon I began to mix alcohol with the medications. I was surrounded by so many but felt so alone.
I began to act out against Greg who became emotionally paralyzed where I was concerned. I would work all day, but still felt the need to "run." I started the ritual of going to happy hour directly from the office. Soon this behavior would spiral to all-nighters. I could easily be out until three in the morning and jump out of bed at six and get ready for work. I was still sleeping in the guest bedroom. I felt this enormous guilt along with an urgency to send Greg a message: I was out of control. I could see the signs of crying in Greg's eyes in the morning when we crossed paths. He was lost, lonely and felt betrayed, but sadly, so did I.
In the mean time, the NO/AIDS Task Force had become a pisshole of stress and politics. I was not equipped to deal with either one. I was exhausted and manic trying to keep control at the office which escalated into a pissing contest between me my boss. No matter what I did, it was never enough. Okay, to sum things up, not only was I a loser at home but also at work.
At times, there were glimmers of the old me. Greg and I would grab dinner at Joey K's, one of many great New Orleans neighborhood diners on Magazine Street. The owner knew I worked for NO/AIDS and approached me one night asking for help with one of his tenants. In one of his units in back of the restaurant resided "Louie" a gentleman in the advanced stages of AIDS. The owner was allowing him to live rent free and was feeding him from the restaurant. He wanted the Task Force to get involved as his own attempts to guide the man to help failed. After dinner we went to see Louie. The apartment was dark and cold and the conditions were deplorable.
Louie was in bed and not responsive. All I could see was the skeletal form of a man I thought was dead. Somehow, I was not afraid to walk up to him. I sat next to him on the bed and called out his name. He opened his eyes as I began to ask him simple questions to see if he could understand me. I introduced myself and asked him would he mind if someone from my office came to talk to him. I told him I wanted to help him feel better. I spoke to him softly as I could see he was afraid. I looked around and saw filty clothes, soiled bedding on the floor and ice cream containers with sputum near the bed.
The caregiver in me kicked in at high speed. I gathered all the dirty clothes in the bedroom and bathroom as roaches scurried. I took the sheets as well. I assured Louie I would get him the help he needed. Greg and I headed home so I could wash everything. In the pocket of a pair of Louie's jeans was a "buffalo nickel." I put it aside. The owner of the restaurant would wait for me. After three hours I had everything washed and folded and went back to Louie's place. I changed his sheets and placed all the clean clothes on a large dresser. The owner of Joey K's and Louie were grateful. I returned to NO/AIDS the next day and alerted client services about Louie and gave them the owner of Joey K's phone number.
Because Greg was on the board of NO/AIDS, I often came home bitching about the endless politics of working for the non-profit. Greg refused to get involved. I obviously did not belong in this position as it was an enormous conflict of interest. To make matters worse, Greg was named a co-chair of my department, pure lunacy.
One Sunday evening, I had enough as Greg and I got into another pointless "discussion" about the NO/AIDS situation. This was on the heels of "Art Against AIDS", an annual holiday gala fund-raiser. I headed to the French Quarter bars to escape. That night I would meet a University of New Orleans student who saw me sitting alone. He walked over with another beer for me. "Looks like misery needs company" he offered. Jeff sat with me for a few hours and was not only entertaining but smart. He had a buzz cut and big green eyes and towered over me at about 6 ft. 5 in. There was something laying heavy on his mind as well, but he only cared about making me laugh.
We would go back to his place. We sat on his couch and talked a little more when he asked if he could just hold me. I moved closer to him and he pulled me into his lap. "I have something to tell you. I'm not like most guys." "What do you mean?" I said. "Promise you won't leave?" I took a more serious tone: "Okay Jeff, what's up?" He started to tear up "I recently was operated on and I'm undergoing treatment for testicular cancer." I made a huge sigh and smiled telling him: "That's much better than I have a big knife and I'm going to kill you." He laughed through the tears. We headed to his bedroom as Jeff slowly undressed, I held him and told him everything was okay. I told him about my crumbling relationship and he told me about juggling school and the illness. We cried off and on, both needing someone to hold, to understand.
The next thing I knew it was 4 a.m. I had a radio interview to do at 6 a.m. and local morning TV show appearance promoting "Art Against AIDS." I kissed Jeff good-bye and told him to tune in. He was laying naked on his bed when he signaled me to go to him, he gently kissed me again.
I went home and showered and the phone rang for the first interview. Radio morning talk DJ Ed Clancey always enjoyed interviewing me. In my first spot with him I mentioned that I fell asleep in one of his journalism talks at my high school. We giggled like school girls and hit it off immediately. He always described me as "the ever gregarious Matt Cortez." What a crock, what an act, I thought to myself.
Greg awoke, again ignoring the fact that I had been out all night. I would not kiss Greg good-bye, not on the heels of jumping out of bed with Jeff. I headed to the local CBS-TV affiliate to do the morning show. My mom would call as I headed to the office after the TV spot. "You looked tired." she remarked. YA' THINK!
posted by Matthew Cortez at 10/21/2005 10:50:00 AM
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