Delusion

Chapter XIV

While Chevy wrapped up his time in Glasgow, I was diving deeper into Amsterdam Limbo. Nights became blurrier, I became unhealthier and more jaded, and things between Anna and I became rockier. 

"Your friend, or whatever he is, keeps us awake with his coughing when he stays here." Anna was explaining that her sweet landlords' patience was wearing thin. "Mike, this is getting a bit difficult. It isn't easy to find a place to live in Amsterdam, especially a cheap one. I don't want to lose this flat. Since you started working, you've been staying out very late and coughing a lot." 

Things were definitely tricky. Living in a hostel meant I could never invite Anna to my place. I'd always have to go to hers. Also, my late hours and unhealthy lifestyle led to the infamous Pub Crawl Cough. Dancing in smoky bars, wandering through damp streets and constantly shouting to rustle up the pub crawl cattle were part of the nightly routine, so Everyone got it eventually.

To add to the list of issues my new lifestyle was causing, my priorities had changed, and Anna noticed. "And it's so hard to see each other. You're working all the time, so it's impossible to make plans. We only hang out here when you come after work at two or three in the morning." 

Initially, the pub crawl job was to make some money and set myself up in Amsterdam to be closer to Anna. That changed, however, as I became hooked. I was getting regular shifts at night, thanks to daytime promotions going well. Not only was I earning money, I was earning it by partying. I'd become addicted. Even if we were visiting the same tacky bars each night, it was exciting. Walking into a place and exchanging greetings with the bouncers, bartenders and toilet attendants, being given free drinks, including the all-desired Jack and Coke, and meeting flirtatious women of various nationalities. All on a nightly basis. All massaging the ego. It felt like being a rockstar in some ways. And at the end of each week, the payouts were becoming bigger. Summer was getting closer, so the pub crawls were getting busier. I'd become obsessed with making money, but even more with: "Who will be out tonight?" 

Earning enough money to stay in Amsterdam until I was more set up was no longer enough. My transition period had become my lifestyle. The smart move would have been to get some money together, fly back to Canada and organise my Working Holiday Visa, return to Amsterdam, find a job and rent a place. I could have kept a more reliable schedule, cooked and eaten healthy food, and immersed myself in the local culture, possibly even learning a bit of the language. More importantly, though, Anna and I could have enjoyed a better experience. But I chose instability. 

To me, it was a small price to pay for a key to the late-night, chaotic underworld of pub crawl rats and shitty tourism. Instead of getting a working holiday visa, I worked under the table, avoiding the police so I wouldn’t get caught promoting and working illegally. Instead of finding a place, I lived in a hostel without cooking facilities, slept in a dorm room, shared a toilet with strangers and used my backpack as a closet. Instead of eating healthy food, I ate every meal on the run. Instead of Anna and I having a proper chance at a relationship, we were falling apart at the seams. Worst of all, it was my fault, but I couldn't see it. 

Blinded by my own delusion, I defended my poor choice as if the pub crawl life was the only way. "Anna, the only reason I'm in this city is to be with you. I'd never choose to live here otherwise. I don't have a visa, so the pubcrawl is the only way I can make this happen. I'm not going to do this forever, but it's my only option until I save up some money and come up with a plan." 

My delusion was incredible. With the amount of money I was making, I could have saved enough to get back to Canada within a couple of weeks. In the time it would have taken for my visa to be processed, I could have worked in Canada and saved even more money, making setting up in Amsterdam even easier. But no, in my mind, I had to stay close to Anna for things to work. 

Also, despite spending most of it on eating out, hostel life and day drinking between promoting and the pub crawl, I couldn't miss out on earnings for one day, let alone a month or two. I was in the zone, and there was no getting through to me. 

"Mike, it's just really difficult right now. We're living very different lives. I don't think I can do this anymore." The music in the speakers faded away. I began slipping backwards into a dark tunnel. As the tunnel lengthened, Anna became further away, her voice echoing off the walls that were closing in around me as she became so small I could barely make out her face. Was this really happening?

Photo by Jose Rueda on Unsplash

"Mike, you aren't the same as when you first came here. You were full of energy and happier. This job you're doing, I don't think it's healthy for you. I'm sorry, but I don't feel the same way about you like this." 

I could feel my face flush. The anger inside me damned my tears while the lump in my throat blocked the wave of nausea in my belly, threatening to erupt at any moment. The torrent of protest collecting on my tongue barricaded into place by my lips sealed tight enough to have been stapled until my unspoken words liquified, seeping into my pores and poisoning my blood with bitterness and resentment.

"But I still want to see each other as friends, Mike. I just don't see us being a couple right now. I have my life and I need to focus on that. But let's still be friends, okay?" 

My silence was interrupted upon striking the back of the tunnel. Like a trampoline, my back slammed into the spring-loaded canvas, knocking the wind out of me before flinging me forward again. The darkness raced past while Anna's words played back in reverse until I was back in the open. As the tunnel crumbled behind me, I took a deep breath and inhaled enough dust to rebuild it in my mind. A deep, dark cavern of pain, rejection and failure to torment me for months to come. 

Standing back in front of Anna, her face was once again discernable. She was beautiful, which only fueled my rage. That image of her, along with every other one I'd taken since we'd first met, went straight into the tunnel of torment already polluting my mind. A few staples popped, allowing my mouth to open just enough to release a short reply. "Okay, no worries. I'll head off." My eyes dropped, unable to stare into hers any longer. I grabbed my pack and moved quickly toward the door.

"Mike, you don't have to go. We can talk about this. And we're friends, we can still hangout." 

The door was already open, one foot planted firmly in the hallway. Clipped in and set to repel down Mount Staircase at record speed, I looked up into Anna's eyes again. My stomach writhed with nausea. 

"No, I'm going. There's nothing more to say, right?" The remaining staples disappeared, giving my lips a full range of motion to express myself. The words that passed through them were heavily coated in a toxic brew of false confidence and immaturity. "But it's cool, right? We're friends." A smile so phoney a blind man could have seen through it spread across my face. "Friends. Yep! Friends. Cool! I'll see you soon, then. Have a nice day."

Anna didn't speak; the surprise and disappointment on her face were reply enough. I turned away and began my descent into a void of jaded bitterness. For anyone curious about the meaning of the word cunt, you'll find your answer in my actions that morning. Anna approached the situation with kindness and care. She did nothing to deserve my childish reaction. Unable to see my own delusion and deal with the pain resulting from my poor choices, I'd turned tricky into catastrophic. Rather than working together and discussing the best way to navigate our difficult situation and Anna's wavering feelings toward us, I focused on myself. A clear sign of insecurity, where adversity is met with anger instead of understanding. 

Had I been more empathetic to Anna's concerns and tried to see the situation from her perspective, perhaps the relationship could have been salvageable. After all, a significant other is a partner and partners are supposed to work together. I know that now, but that younger, cuntier version of me did not. When it came to emotional intelligence, I was like a fish out of water. All too often, my wrecking ball of poor reaction demolished anything good standing in front of me. 

By the time my feet had hit the ground, I'd already typed a message to Jimmy. "We're getting fucked up tonight Bro! Your wingman has arrived. I'll explain later. See you at Happy Hour."

I took one last look up Mount Staircase. Anna had already gone back into her flat. I scoffed, pulled the door closed and walked away. 

"Don't let her Dutchness get you down Bro. There are plenty of other girls. Just stay away from the Dutch ones." Steven laughed in amusement as he looked around at the packed bar. He had a Dutch girlfriend himself, and things were a bit of a struggle for them, too. So, he was all too happy to offer some encouragement in my time of wallowing. "Cheers Boys!" He passed Jimmy and I each a shot of Jägermeister and a Jack and Coke. "Let's have a fun night!" 

I threw my shot back, then nodded at Jimmy to get his attention. He followed my eyes toward a cute girl I'd noticed earlier. "Straight back into, eh Man!" Jimmy laughed and patted me on the back. "Go get her! I'll be your wingman. I hope she has a cute friend, though."

My cuntiness continued from that night as if each lass I went home with was a cushion, softening the blow of losing Anna. More delusion, of course. Each time I took someone back to my dorm bed, I'd wake up to find the cushions had become sharp, stabbing into every inch of me and increasing my pain. 

By the time Chevy arrived two weeks later, I was sleeping on a bed of nails, my scars only visible to me. Scars I would try to drink away and ignore in my twisted little world of neglected insecurity and delusion.