December 19, 2009

“I used to be somebody, now I'm somebody else…”
–    Bad Blake in “Crazy Heart”

By Dr. Bud E. Bryan

Austin. Greetings to all you WebVillians out there. I bet y’all thought I up and died or something, but no, here I am, semi-present, semi-coherent and mostly accounted for. Needless to say, it has been a tumultuous year for the Ol’ Budster (I can use “tumultuous” too, now that it seems to be an official AE word).

Last time I checked-in, Jolene was fixin’ to leave my ass broke and busted by the side of the road to head for Greener Pastures - aka L.A. - for a six-month gig and a potential new Mr. Man waiting on-deck. To say a lot has transpired since then would be the understatement of this or any other year, but I’ll try to give you the high hard ones to help fill in the blanks.

I got to thinking about what Nadine said to me after one of our famous liquid lunches, something about…

“She wants you to come after her and fight for her ass, Bud. She wants you to throw yourself at her feet and beg her to come home.”

Being Nadine and all, of course, she also added, “But don’t do it, Bud. Let her hang her ass out in the breeze in L.A. She needs to stew in her own juices for awhile, besides, the thought of you groveling just doesn’t compute, and it’s not a good look in the least.”

She does have a way with words, I must say. So, with Nadine’s words roiling around in my hat, I was sitting in my office one Thursday afternoon dinkin’ around on the Internet, when I decided just to see about a flight to L.A. I mean, why the hell not? I can go to L.A. if I want to, right?

There was a 6:35PM non-stop flight on American, I booked it, then I booked the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills, because I know Peter has stayed there and if I was going to do this, I was going to Go Big or Go Home, as we like to say around here.

I raced around the house, put some clothes together for the weekend, and I was off.

The flight was good, but I’ll never get used to flying into L.A. - I mean that in a good way though. When you start flying over civilization and sprawl a good 30 minutes before landing at LAX, it’s just incredible, frickin’ amazing even.

The landing was perfect – any one you can walk away from is good is what I always say – I grabbed my rental car - a shiny new Mustang - and I made my way to the hotel. I was pretty proud of myself too - I only made one wrong turn on the way – and I was wheeling up the Four Seasons driveway not 35 minutes later.

Swell place. I could tell by the HYLs (HotYoungLovelies) gathered at the front waiting for various transportation options that this was definitely L.A. Sleek, of-the-moment, and breathtaking to behold, these women said L.A. to a “T.” HYLs are inherently different from PYTs (PrettyYoungThings), don’t ask me how, but they just are. The age difference? Sure, but there’s something else going on too.

Did I tell y’all how much I love L.A.? Dang.

That was topped – figures – by the hot young woman who checked me in, all sophisticated and put together just so. Lordy, the place was just crawling with ‘em. At any rate I was up in my room momentarily – a really nice room, by the way – and I think judging by her flirty little non-corporate smile and the “I think you’ll find these accommodations to your liking Dr. Bryan” that she half-whispered to me that I do believe she upgraded the Ol’ Budster.

Did I tell y’all how much I love L.A.? Double Dang.

After unpacking my stuff and - now time out here… let me just say that when you check-in to a hotel with a woman they seem to go through an elaborate ritual of unpacking their things, they revel in it actually. Me? I pulled the hanging things out of my bag, hung them up then and left the rest right where I dropped it - on the floor - and called it good.

I then put on the TV (ESPN of course), reclined on the bed, and punched-up Jolene’s number.

“Hey Bud!”

“Hey Baby.”

“What’s up?”

“Come meet me for a drink.”

There was an audible silence, if you know what I mean.

“What?”

“Come meet me for a drink. I’ll be at the bar in the Four Seasons. In Beverly Hills.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Uh no, actually I’m not.”

More silence.

“Jolene? You still with me here, or what?”

“Uh, I don’t believe it…uh, shit, Bud, yes, of course! I’ll be there in…”

“I don’t care when, Baby. You’ll be here when you get here. Just get your sweet ass down here.”

“Oh Bud…”

I could tell she was stunned and well, that was the idea after all, wasn’t it? We hung up, and figuring I threw her into a complete tizzy, I knew I had at least 90 minutes as she got all fixed-up and changed outfits five times. I caught up on some highlights, and then I made my way to the bar about 45 minutes later.

I was greeted by a scene of movers, shakers and hot tamales everywhere, and a teeming, pulsating aura of hipness hung over the place like a glittering cloud of, I don’t know what. It was almost too much. And then I ordered a margarita the way I like ‘em as a test to see if the bartender knew what he was doing, and damn if he didn’t nail it. I mean nailed it. He just grinned at me as if to say, “I know I’m good.” And he was.

Right then I realized that I had just discovered a bar that rivals the one at the Four Seasons in Austin. I really need to get out more, I guess…

Anyway, two late 20-something starlets were sitting next to me at the bar engrossed in a conversation with each other about their love lives, at least I think that’s what they were talking about. I only caught snippets, like …”He was such a dick to you.” And “I hope he’s happy with that trashy bitch.” And then there was “I’m really into Dave now, he’s so together.” (must be the new guy, and blah-blah-blah.) I’m glad I wasn’t the subject for once. They were smokin’ hot though.

Did I tell y’all how much I love L.A.? Triple Dang.

As I was finishing my second drink, two arms suddenly wrapped around me from behind and squeezed me hard, followed by tender kisses on my neck. No ominous taps on my shoulder this time, I was just being wrapped-up in Jolene.

I turned around to see her looking absolutely radiant – and smokin’ hot too – in black skinny-tight pants, black sleeveless low-cut top with a silver design on the front and black cfm pumps, and then I noticed little tears welling up in the corner of her eyes…right before we kissed.

We didn’t say anything. We didn’t have to, really. I just held her tight and then maneuvered her on to my stool at the end of the bar. She just couldn’t get over that I was there, and I guess I couldn’t believe it either. But we had fun catching up, then we had even more fun downing our margaritas, and after she had three and I had four, the next thing I know we’re upstairs going at it like a couple of newlyweds.

Did I tell y’all how much I love L.A.? Quadruple Dang!

We ended up having a grand old time that weekend, not really discussing anything of any import - although she did acknowledge that the potential new Mr. Man was in reality Mr. Not So Much and was a non-issue - but having a blast just sort of going for it and worrying about the hand-wringing of all the details later. We sort of went way beyond the make-up kind of sex and climbed on board the runaway freight train kind. Let me just say, I’m pretty sure I ran out of Dangs.

Before I left to go back to Austin, all I said was that I’d call her and we agreed to leave it like that. Although it was pretty clear that she wanted to come home two weeks later, sort of unofficially kicking-off the every other weekend routine of seeing each other that she hinted at way back when before all of this blew up.

It was all good, except for the fact that when I got home Sunday night, I began dreading the fact that I was due to have lunch with Nadine the following Wednesday, and I could just imagine what she’d have to say, because I had texted her from the airport saying I was going to L.A. for the weekend.

Sure enough, three days later as I waited for her to show up at El Arroyo, I was just taking the first sip of a margarita when I heard her voice coming up from behind me…

“I’d put that drink down if I were you.”

I turned to see her in a fire-red mini-dress, fire red death-defying cfm stilettos - her fire-red hair glowing in the sun – with fire red bracelets and fire-red Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses on to complete the look.  Damn did she look good. Wow.

“Now why the hell would I do that, Nadine? And by the way, nice outfit.”

“Well, if I’m going to have to run your ass over to Emergency to see if they can re-attach your balls, you won’t have time for that drink.”

“And it’s nice to see you too, Nadine.”

She sat down and gave our waitress her drink order by pointing at my drink, “I’ll have one of these,” when I noticed that our little waitress was new to the place, and yes, smokin’ hot too. I gave her ass a brief but quality look. She was nineteen I guessed, and her ass looked as tight as felt on a new billiard table.

“You know what, you are pathetic. Will you stop looking at that Teen Queen’s ass long enough to focus here?”

I turned back to see Nadine, with her sunglasses perched on the top of her head, looking right through me.

“Did I not tell you to let that should be ex-wife of yours stew in L.A. for a while?”

I mumbled a half-hearted and barely audible, “Yeah.” Like a six-year-old getting reamed by his teacher.

“And did I not say that this would be the best thing for the both of you. That you could get your head out of your ass for once and she could get some breathing room so she could finally see it through clearly that you weren’t ever going to change for no one, no how?”

I just shrugged “Yes.” After all, I was due for a tongue-lashing and I might as well take my medicine.

“And now look at you. After your lovey-dovey weekend you’re right back in the shit again. On the hook, at her beck and call. Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, and see Dr. Bud E. Bryan, the Spineless Weasel! Aka Mr. Mope-A-Dope! Aka the ball-less wonder!”

“Okay, okay, enough. So I went to California to see her. She was thrilled. We had fun and we fucked our brains out, I mean, what’s the big deal.”

“Well now darlin’ it wouldn’t be a big deal at all IF it was just you going to L.A. to get your horns trimmed, but no, you had to go open up a can of worms and now you and Jolene are right back in L-U-V and do I need to remind you that nothing has really changed? That you’re going to tell me how hot you two were over the weekend while you’re sitting there salivating over that Teen Queen’s ass? Hello!”

“Okay, okay, nothing has really changed, I get it.”

“Thank you. And let me guess, she’s coming home in two weeks to be back with her man, right.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe my ass.” She signaled the waitress to bring us another round.

“Bud, I’m just trying to help you out here. You two are never going to get off this teeter-totter routine. Up, down, up, down. Luv followed by a blow-up, followed by a big make-up, followed by tranquility for like five minutes, followed by another big blow-up. Shit, Bud, who has time for that? She needs to stay away from you for a good long while, and then she’ll either appreciate you for who you are and make up her mind that she’s going to be with you without trying to change you, or she’s going to have to say buh-bye. For good.”

“I’m glad it’s real simple for you to figure out.”

“Oh come on, Bud. Are you going to change? I mean really?”

“Well, I can. I mean I could. I mean maybe this time it will be different?”

“Oh Bud, you are just too pathetic. You're trying to talk yourself into it and you can’t even convince your own damn self. You need to be alone for a good while too. But you know what? You hate being alone, even though you like to make everyone miserable most of the damn time when you’re with them.”

Just then our waitress brought us our drinks. She gave me a big smile – she was so damn cute it was frightening – then she sashayed away, with my eyes riveted to her ass.”

“I rest my case, Bud.”

Nadine just laughed, and I had to laugh myself.

“Poor Baby, you just can’t help it can you? Oh well, I suppose there are worse things in life than to be addicted to pussy. Far worse. But in your personal universe, it sure wreaks a lot of havoc!”

We clicked glasses and grinned at each other.

“I mean I can look, can’t I?”

"Why Bud darlin’, of course you can, if you confined it to that. But oh let me guess, it just falls on your head and you just can’t help yourself, right.”

“Well you oughtta know Nadine, since you’ve managed to fall on my head and blow my shit up on a regular basis over the last few years.”

“Touché, Bud.”

We clicked glasses again.

She finally stopped after that and we just sat there and caught up, enjoying each other’s company. We talked about the Longhorns, the NFL and we even stopped at two drinks, because she had to run out to another meeting over at the club, so we behaved.

When it came time to wrap it up, I walked her out to her car and we made out like a couple of teenagers right next to it. I didn’t really care who saw us and I know she didn’t either, but it was fun. Lots of fun.

“Damn Bud, you still got it, I’m happy to say,” Nadine said.

“Well, at least I’ve got that goin’ on for myself.”

“Oh, you’ve got a lot more going on than that, Bud, but you know what I mean!"

With that she climbed in her car and peeled off down the road. Talk about still having it, damn, Nadine can be absolutely mesmerizing when she wants to be, even when she’s busting my balls.

The rest of the week was kind of full. I met Jesse - the U of T coed and talk about PYT, yikes! - at Whole Foods World Headquarters the next morning to help her with her writing, and I must say that she continues to show great progress and potential. But I must also say that it has remained platonic and will continue in that mode indefinitely. As I said, Janey (aka Molly’s Mom) would have my ass – and not in a good way either – if she got wind I was doing something other than “mentoring” Jesse. But I do enjoy it immensely when the parade of people walk by in the morning and I watch them as they try to figure out what the relationship is. Keep ‘em guessing is what I always say.

As for Janey? Hmmm…what can I say? We’ve become very good friends of late. I see her every other weekend just about on Fridays and we have a really good time. She’s smart, funny and we hit it off. But, as you might imagine the Jolene thing doesn’t sit well with her, but even in spite of that we manage to have a lot of fun. I like her a lot, she's a real sweetheart, but like they say in the movies, it's complicated.

At this point I could also write about my “young one” but due to extraneous circumstances on both sides of the ball I choose not to. And believe me it’s for the best at this point, because if we embarked down the road she wants to go it would blow-up so many lives that even I couldn't crawl from the wreckage. I will say this, however, the connection we have has grown even deeper and more urgent, but it must – and it has – stopped right there in its tracks for the time being and hopefully for far longer than that. But the blow-by-blow will be in the finished book I can assure you.

The months and weeks have flown by, I know. I have worked on the book, but it is only 85 percent done at this point, when it should have been 100 percent done months ago. But I’m going to write it right up to the end of my life – or at least the life I know currently – and then I’m going to walk away, never to be seen or heard from again. At least that's my plan today, Saturday, December 19, at 5:15AM.

Do I have the answers? Oh, hell no. Jolene and I have been doing the commuting thing, and it has worked out wonderfully well so far. We’re on the same wavelength, we avoid the shit and we enjoy each other like we did before we were married.

But on the other hand, as I said it’s complicated, because I’m seeing Janey too. And Jolene's six month gig in L.A. will be over in just a  couple of months, and then what?

And Nadine? What can I say? She knows me better than anyone, and frankly our lunches have grown more frequent and my desire to be with her is ramping-up all over again. I can’t help it, she just flat-out gets me.

As Bad Blake (Jeff Bridges) says in “Crazy Heart” (a movie you MUST see, by the way) – “I used to be somebody, now I’m somebody else.”

And that’s how I’m feeling about things right about now. I used to be somebody – the Dr. Bud y’all know – but then again maybe it’s time for me to move on, drop out, and end-up living in a shack on a beach in Mexico making margaritas for tourists.

To be honest I don’t fucking know. 

I do know that the more you know the more you just never know.

Jolene is coming home in a couple of days, and we’re going to quietly go about being with each other. And when you think about it that’s about all life comes down to after a while: Hangin’ with people you can tolerate, and who can tolerate you in return.

But like I say, it’s complicated.

On that note, I hope that if y’all can’t get what you really want in the coming weeks and months, you can at least get what you need.

I know I’ll be tryin’.

Adios and farewell for now. Thanks for reading all these years.

See ya’.