Songs That are [S]HOT

I have to tell you, I've chosen some of the most beautiful songs to tie me to some of the people I've cared for the most in the past. Almost every couple has their own song. You know the type, it's one with great lyrics, a catchy melody, and every time you hear it on the radio, you have to turn it up and sing along, calling your partner at that moment so you can share part of that fleeting moment. It's great to have something as a reminder to make you think of that person. The real issue that follows is this: What do you do after you've severed ties with that person? What happens to the music? 

It's not always a love song though. Sometimes it's a song that reminds you of a certain moment in time. Just as tattoos are said to be 'a permanent reminder of a temporary feeling,' I look at these songs in the same way. 

Song One: "Mad World" by Gary Jules

One of the first songs I can remember having this connection to is one by Gary Jules titled "Mad World." The song was used in the movie "Donnie Darko." The film chronicles the life of a disturbed youth (played by Jake Gyllenhall) who experiences strange paranormal events leading up to his ultimately untimely death. The closing credits roll as this dark and dreary film comes to an end. The accompanying tune: "Mad World" sung by Gary Jules. My first boyfriend committed suicide. I dated him briefly when I was in middle school. He was a year or two older than myself and had been introduced through a mutual friend. He was my first kiss. I spoke briefly of him in my entry describing my coming out experience. When Nick (Brian Nicholas Wood) committed suicide, it had been months since we'd last spoke. He had earned his GED, and at one point was working for K-Mart. I don't think this was where he was working when he passed. His home life was not a healthy one. His mother was a lesbian who didn't seem to mind what her children did, and in my opinion, she didn't keep track of their personal lives either. I remember going to their house one time. She sat on the couch with her partner, never turning their heads as Nick briefly tried to introduce me. Nick's brother was the only heterosexual in the family. Nick's mom was a lesbian, and Nick's grandmother was also a lesbian. Don't ask me how all of this happens. Three generations of a family all attracted to the same sex. Nick was bisexual which only seemed to complicate things. He cheated on me with the mutual friend (my best friend throughout the most delicate years of my life). Nick's brother was involved in a tragic situation where a group of people played Russian roulette. The trigger was pulled and a bullet fired. The bullet didn't hit Nick's brother though. The trigger had been pulled by a friend who was playing. This landed the friend in the hospital. Talks were made of bringing Nick's brother to court. The friend was in intensive care and it wasn't looking good. With things seeming terribly unfavorable, Nick's brother took his own life with a bullet to the head. The blood splashed onto the back of an American flag in his room. Nick's mother was now down one of her two sons. Nick's life had been rather uneventful. His greatest experiences were that of earning his GED and acquiring his driver's license. Nick had a hard time dealing with the situation. I'm sure his mother wasn't a help either. Nick took his own life. He missed his brother so much. Nick's brother was the straight one; he was the only sane one in the family. Nick was in his bedroom. He had prepared a list of songs he wanted played at his funeral. He turned on music. Nick wrapped himself in the American flag that was covered in his brother's blood. He played "Mad World" on repeat. He took four or five zip ties and put them around his neck, pulling them tight. Nick suffocated slowly. His body was found by his mother. "Mad World" was still playing on repeat. At his funeral his requests were honored. "Love Me When I'm Gone" played in the small church sanctuary. I was surrounded by young friends who shed many tears. "Mad World" started playing. I had never heard this song before. I noticed that the sobbing worsened as the song played. I had to ask someone what the significance was. It was terrible, truly terrible. At the viewing, Nick's mother had grown very defensive, threatening guests to not blame her because she'd already heard enough. She seemed stoic, completely void of all emotion. I could see it though. I could see the emptiness in her eyes and a reflection of the void in her soul. After all was over with, I found myself listening to the radio in random places. I'd hear it. I would be in my bed at night listening to songs softly and I'd hear Gary Jules. I was on a marketing field trip for a state competition. We walked into a restaurant to eat and I heard Gary Jules singing from above again. I'd never heard the song before, and certainly never on the radio. It haunted me for months. Just as swiftly as the song came into my life, it left. I felt that Nick had left finally and finished tormenting everyone. 

Nifty Fact:

At Nick's viewing I noticed a boy. He was years older than me, tall, thin, and attractive. I was immediately lured by his bright blue eyes. Months later, a mutual friend actually connected the two of us. Derek was the second guy I dated, and to this date he is the only person I've ever dated and slept with quite regularly. I met my next boyfriend at my first boyfriend's funeral (indirectly though). 

Song Two & Three: "Breathe Me" by Sia / "Bubbly" by Colby Caillat

A lot of time passed between the memory of "Mad World" and of this next song. It's been a somewhat rare occurrence that I share a song with a man because my relationships have been quite short-lived on the whole. Years ago I met a guy online named Jason. Jason and I met for the first time when I was about to graduate high school in 2005. I remember this vividly because we met at TGIFridays for dinner and my cousin Adrienne (who was in town for my graduation) came with me to meet him. Jason and I met that once, never kissed, and just like that, he disappeared and moved. Jason moved off to New York city for a year and a half, pursuing a career in modeling, in film, and (on the down low) RETAIL. Jason worked on the management team at Gap in Times Square. I lost touch with him, but somehow I'd still receive instant messages from him online about once or twice a month. He managed to keep in touch with me even when I didn't really pursue him. I found this intriguing but never really dived into the subject. While speaking online, it all came out that Jason had kept in touch because he had the hots for me. We both decided it would be healthy to start getting to know each other. We spoke on the phone regularly for hours. He came to town to visit his family since he's originally from Gloucester. There were visits when I'd see him only once, but towards the end of these visits, I felt as if I was the only reason he came down. We started dating seriously. He came down to visit one time. We spent all the time together. When he left, I didn't want him to leave, nor did he. I heard about this the next day, but the story goes along these lines: Jason got back on his plane heading for NYC. While he was on the tarmac, there was some sort of back up and the flight out had been delayed for several minutes. He started to have a panic attack. He caused a scene. He started crying hysterically. He called over a flight attendant and told her his mother had been in a terrible accident was was currently in critical condition. They let him off the plane while it was still on the tarmac. He stayed. He eventually went back to bring his belongings home, and he came back here. He stayed with his grandmother who gave him his space. When my birthday rolled around, one of our friends was generous enough to get us a hotel room for the evening. Jason bought the liquor and I brought the mixers. My friend Dia bought me a bottle of Asti Spimanti. The evening started with alcohol, and you can guess how it ultimately ended. I brought my laptop that night. I played Sia's "Breathe Me" on repeat practically the whole night. Her soft airy voice reverberated off of the walls and filled the room with an indescribable calm. That night I got a silver Tiffany's ID bracelet with Ryan Scott engraved across the top. Jason had special ordered and designed it while he was still in New York. This is still the best birthday present I've ever received. When I saw the little blue box in that bag I was speechless. The night ended and the next day came. I remember packing up my midnight blue Saab 9-5 sedan the next morning. I don't have that car anymore. I don't have hotel fun like that anymore, and up to that point, never had that kind of fun. Jason's ringtone on my phone was "Bubbly" by Colbie Caillat. It still echoes in my head, bringing back feelings of oncoming vicious bouts of vomiting (NO, not from drinking that night, but rather at the thought of Jason). Jason and I severed ties on extremely horrific terms. The gentleman who had purchased the hotel room at the Embassy Suites for my birthday night was a very good friend of mine before Jason came back to the area and into my life. This man's name is Gary. I haven't seen him in months, and if I ever saw him again, I'm fairly sure I'd stomp on his foot, spit in his face, and put my cigarette out in his eye. Gary and I would go out for dinner on some occasions. We sat next to each other in the bar almost every night. We would bar-hop together at times. I had to call that quits though after he left his lights of his oversized red Ford Expedition on all night while we were in a bar and the male dancer had to give us a jump. That night Gary fell in the parking lot in a drunken stupor and managed to cut up his ear and one entire side of his face. I had to drive home...But back to the rapport I had with Gary. We were great friends. He even helped orchestrate the surprise arrival of Jason one night. I had no clue he was going to walk through the door of the bar when he did. Gary beamed a great smile and I'd never been so happy. When I grew somewhat distant, working many hours and trying to balance my time with friends, it was only natural that Jason tried to find ways to spend his own free time. Gary was more than happy to take him out to dinner. Ryan was still my best friend at this time and had confronted me on several occasions that something was going on between Jason and I. Why I did not heed his warnings, I'll never know. I'm notorious for always giving the benefit of the doubt when it shouldn't be offered. It wasn't until Ryan overheard Gary's friend Pam and Jason speaking in the bathroom about Gary's recent poor treatment of Jason that my ears perked up. Jason and I were over. Gary had been dating Jason right under my face. I was shocked by the both of them. I stopped talking to Jason, and I stopped talking to Gary. Of course when things like this happen Ryan doesn't just sit back and watch. Mouths ran. Jason and Ryan had it out one night on my cell phone. They had a text message war that was so big it made the Civil War look like a quaint family picnic. It got ugly for a couple months as looks were shot from across the bar. I received a call at my job threatening to kill me if I didn't leave Jason alone. The voice was a thick New York accented man who threatened to have me "swimmin' with the fishes." Ryan was next. Gary and Jason showed up at his work and Gary told him that if he didn't keep his mouth shut, he'd make sure it'd stay shut. Ryan took the threat seriously. I even called the police anonymously asking what would need to be done. I called Jason and left him a voice mail telling him it had gone too far and that I would take out a restraining order and contact an attorney if he didn't knock it off. It's one thing to threaten to shove a boot up someone's ass, and completely another to threaten someone's life. After they had been involved for a short while, Jason was seen in a BMW Z3. I heard the stories. I don't have to ask people this shit, they just put it in my hand. I always get the 411. I heard that Gary bought him the car. As time would tell, Gary made the down payment on the car. The $5,000.00 check bounced. When it did, Jason and Gary were going through a rocky period. Gary got really nasty about the whole thing. "I guess you got yourself into a pickle now," Gary told Jason. Gary even went as far as to use his spare set of keys to kidnap that little Z3 in the middle of the night and take it back to the bank to have it repossessed. Jason called the bank, made the back payments on the loan, and worked out an agreement with the dealership in regards to the bounced $5K check. Jason started text messaging me again. He tried really hard too. I'll give him that. He tried to get my attention and mend the broken bridge between us. In all honestly, we've been oceans apart ever since. He called after I ignored those texts and wanted to know if he'd offended me. We met up for cocktails and I hesitantly listened to what he had to say. Gary apologized eventually too, but his apology fell on deaf ears. I say I forgave him, and maybe I did, but things like that can never be forgot. Gary was the one who had his best friend call my job, use a fake accent, and claim to be Dominic who could somehow send his boys to make me swim with the fishes. Jason wasn't aware of the threats that went over so poorly with Ryan and myself. He used that as leverage a lot. I don't know if he knew about it or not, but Ryan seems willing to bet his life that he knew exactly what was going on. I did get back together with Jason for a brief period after all the mess had gone down. Gary hadn't been seen for a while, and to this day, it's been months since I've seen his overly tanned face and that cheaply colored blonde hair. Jason and I came to our final destination of calling it quits shortly before Christmas. He started hanging out with Ryan and Rob through me and ultimately ended up spending more time with them than I did. I started to resent him. I hated going to Ryan's house and seeing him there. I hated those droopy eyes and that pouty face. I looked at him as filth. I was tired of his poor portrayal of a confident actor. His pictures were good, but never model-quality. He tried to exude confidence, but it was only a vain effort to compensate for the lack thereof. Ryan still greeted him in passing. They actually spoke a couple weeks ago. I don't acknowledge his presence anymore. I walk past him. I look through him. I ignore his very existence. One night I was tanked and drank a little too much. I walked out of the bathroom at the bar and almost smiled and said, "Hey!" to him. I quickly realized the gravity of the situation and nearly kicked myself in the head for almost getting that close to blowing it. I've been listening to Sia recently. I downloaded everything of hers that I possibly could. She came out as a lesbian not long ago. This was exciting news. I listen to "Breathe Me" not but not the original. I can't listen to the original anymore. I listen to the FourTet remix now. The original version was the melody that played in my ear every time I called Jason. I can't listen to "Bubbly" either because every time Jason would call, that's what would play. In a copycat fashion, he set his phone to play the same song when I would call him. I'm sick just thinking of him now. I must congratulate myself for rehashing this without vomiting all over myself and my laptop. 

Song Four and Five and Six: "PDA" by John Legend / "Just the Way You Are" by Diana Krall / "P.S. I Love You" by Diana Krall

It is truly a small miracle that Donnie and I even found each other. I can't tell you how many online efforts I have made to find the perfect man. After years of being out at bars and clubs, I realized that the great men aren't in the bars. They're not drinking or staying up late. They're at home. They have real jobs. They have real security. Donnie and I met through SinglesNet.com. He sent me a message and I sent him my phone number. We talked that first night for a long time. I was speaking to my best friend. He loved everything that I did and knew every word to every song just like me. We laughed and I smiled as I hung up my clean laundry that night. I called him again the next day and spoke for a long time with him. It became crazy to me that we had so much in common and I started wondering if all we'd ever amount to would be best friends. I asked him, "Do you get a friend vibe from me?" Donnie always brought this line up to me. He said it was the first moment when he realized that he was falling for me. He told me no he didn't get that friend vibe. He wanted more, and so did I. After speaking over the phone for not even two weeks, I decided I was so comfortable with this man that I couldn't possibly wait any longer to see him. I packed up a weekend bag and decided to spend some time with him. I got off of work on a Saturday afternoon and drove up to Baltimore, Maryland. It was over four hours away. I told my parents I had met him at the bar when he was visiting on business, but only my mom knows how we really met. It wasn't until I was halfway to Baltimore that I realized how crazy my actions were. I was driving to meet a man in his thirties in a whole other state and I had never even seen him before. It could have turned out really bad. It honestly could have cost me my life. I trusted my instincts though. I got to his house after driving through downtown Baltimore like a doe in headlights. I was terrified to miss a turn. I made it to his house. I was so happy to see him. He looked adorable. he was standing on the curb waiting for me, talking to me on his phone. I made him parallel park my car since I don't know how. I hugged him for the first time and it fit. It felt like home. I walked into his home to find it just as I would have wanted it. His color choices were bright and modern. It was surprisingly minimal. It was meticulously cleaned. I fell in love with his sense of style. I loved every single DVD on his rack. We smoked cigarettes together. We played songs on his computer and we took turns choosing them. I danced with him in his dining room. Nobody saw but us. We smiled and kissed and enjoyed moments of short-lived bliss. He played "PDA" by John Legend. I played "P.S. I Love You" by Diana Krall. He played something else and I played "Your Song" by Elton. I stayed that Saturday night with Donnie, and I also spent part of that Sunday with him as well. I came home Sunday night. All of that just for a Saturday night and a Sunday morning. I went back the next weekend. This time he planned out meals to cook for the two of us. We ate by candlelight. We played the same songs from the weekend before. We killed a couple bottles of wine and headed out to the bars. We went to Grand Central and snuck in the side entrance to avoid paying any cover. We stayed upstairs in the dimly-lit lesbian bar. We smoked cigs and drank cocktails. After three glasses of wine at his house and two rum and diets at Grand Central, I was feeling a heavy buzz. I met a few lesbians at Central and laughed and hugged them. We left, taking with us a wonderful lipstick lesbian (meaning she was girly and not butch) named Katie Arnold. We went to The Hippo across the street (another gay bar). I got in and before I could tell Donnie to stop, he passed me another drink. I got so drunk I wanted to tell him we had to leave. I should have. But I lasted as long as I could before telling him I was ready. I danced drunkly with Katie and with an older woman with what I thought to be a killer haircut at the time. Donnie and I went home. We played and then we passed out. We woke up the next morning on his stark white sheets. They were softer than flannel and nicer than any hotel sheets I've ever rested my weary body on. I immediately felt the throbbing head ache. Through the darkness of the room I could see a dark spot on the sheets. I had slept on Donnie's chest that night. I spoke, "I think I threw up last night."

"No, I think I had a nose bleed." It turns out that I had threw up. Donnie thought it was a nose bleed because somehow it ended up on the side of his face, his chest, and his boxers. It was terribly embarrassing. It was nothing but red wine. It wasn't full of chunks or anything terribly gross, but I promise, it wasn't a pleasant realization on his part either. He made me feel okay about it. He cleaned the floor (I had made a futile attempt to land the vomit in the trash can apparently) and put the sheets in the wash to be cleaned on the 2 hour white cycle. The stains came out. It was amazing. He came down and met my family a week or two after that. Everyone loved him. My sister still talks about him to this day. Donnie and I dated over Christmas time. I even started looking at what I would need to do to transfer to Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore so I could move in with him this summer. I visited a couple more times and my schedule changed, putting a small damper on my ability to meet him. We started falling apart. One night I thought it would be good to come clean of my doubts and be honest with him. He came clean with his, and we both walked away from that conversation hurt. We had mortally wounded each other with our own words. He cancelled my trip up to Baltimore that weekend. He didn't think it would be good. He said we'd just fall in love all over again and ignore that elephant that we just invited into our relationship. I would call him and he wouldn't answer. I would call the house and he wouldn't answer. Hours would go by to the point where I was so sure he had to at least see that he had missed my calls. He didn't return them. I would call and finally snag him. I'd ream him in and out over his inability to return my calls in a timely manner. Let's face it, Donnie wasn't used to answering to anyone since he lived by himself. It was a feat that he even shared his space with me when I visited. We stopped speaking and decided mutually that we were both in far different places in our lives. We had irreconcilable differences. He called me later to ask if I was still coming up to Baltimore like we had planned for his birthday. We were supposed to still keep in touch and be best friends, but that was falling apart at this point as well. I told him that it wouldn't be right and that I couldn't. I checked my Facebook account to see that he had dropped me from his relationship listing before I did. It was not a pleasant feeling. I knew it was coming, but I felt very detached for days. He took me off his top friends on Myspace and eventually I stopped hearing from him altogether. He burned me a CD with our songs on it. There are too many. He spoiled more songs than anyone I've ever been with. He ruined the following:

"PDA" by John Legend

"Your Song" by Elton John

"Just the Way You Are" by Diana Krall

"P.S. I Love You" by Diana Krall

"Evil Woman" by Electric Light Orchestra

I can't think of any more off the top of my head. It makes me sick to think of them. After we split, he told me that the most fitting song was "For Good" from Wicked, the broadway musical. I listened to it and cried. I called him up and he chastised me for phoning in for his sympathy. He fussed me out asking me if I didn't think he was hurt either. He made me feel terrible about even calling and I really just wanted to say I missed him. He beat me up emotionally in ways that still haunt me to this day. "What do you have to offer these older men? You have nothing to offer them! Are you just going to keep showing up at their houses, play house and then go home to your parents?!" He broke me down bad. He hung up on me. It was definitely ugly from here on out. I wanted to stay friends, but it's not worth it. There were several small aspects about Donnie that I overlooked purposefully that really should have been deal-breakers from the start. You do crazy things for love though. There are many people you can live with, but the hard thing is to find that one person you can't live without. Donnie could have been one of those people. 

It's a shame that I've been forced to bury so many great songs alive. I can't even listen to them and enjoy them anymore. I can't bear to lose any more of my favorites, so from now on I'll keep my favorites to myself and not let anyone take them away.

A Night to [not want to] Remember

I called Scott after five when I was between classes. I knew he said he'd be staying late for work to work on some sort of contract, but I figured there'd be a small chance he'd be able to answer. I wasn't surprised when the unanswered rings led to his voicemail. I left him a brief casual message, not really saying too much, just to call me or text me to let me know what the deal was and I'd call him when I got out of my class. After my english class ended at 6:45PM, I peeked at my phone expecting to see a small image of an envelope so signify some sort of message or a picture of a cassette tape to let me know I have a waiting voice mail.



Strangely, my phone showed no signs of new text messages, missed phone calls, or voicemails waiting. I figured he must've really been working longer than anticipated, or possibly dealing with car troubles. I know he must have been having quite a day after all of these events had popped up on him. I am still convincing myself not to get too worked up about the whole situation. He was the one who asked if I had plans to begin with. I had no preconceived notions of meeting up with him last night. He sprung it up and was the first to suggest a meeting possibly cocktails. Hours and hours passed. I had since came home from school, changing my outfit meticulously and flattening my hair, throwing on a hat, and changing my shoes. I ate tofu again. I received text messages from everyone in my phone book except for "Scott Norfolk." Nicole wanted to know what I was doing. Janel (Ryan's sister) wanted to know if I had plans, and Robert (Ryan's boyfriend) called me to invite me over to watch "30 Days of Night" with him and Ryan. After enough time had passed, it was after nine and I was ready to leave my house. All dressed up and nowhere to go, I called Robert, who I had cancelled on originally and told him I'd be over. I drove up to Newport News. If Scott called, I would drive all the way down to Norfolk, because after all, I have been really excited about this.



Ryan was already back from class by the time I showed up. He let me in when I knocked and walked back to his computer, phone glued to head. He was speaking with his former best friend Chris. Ryan was reading his blog entries out loud. I pulled my laptop out of my bag and started messing around, playing video clips, and keeping myself occupied. Ryan finally got off the phone. Rob came home with his friend Angie and started tinkering in the kitchen. A while later, the two emerged with an enormous bowl of some sort of queso dip and a bag of tortilla chips. I ate a few, and the hot queso was wonderful (not too watery or too thick). Ryan started playing some video game in the other room. He finished his level or whatever and saved the damn thing. We unwrapped the new DVD and popped it in. Ryan sat on the floor, as did I, resting my back against the sofa. Rob and Angie stole the couch. "30 Days of Night"was exciting to say the least. The plot was decent, and there was enough gore to satisfy that side of me that loves a good horror flick. The ending sucked. I was very disappointed. If you ask me, it would have been a great opportunity for a sequal. The ideal plot would be if Evan (Josh Hartnett) went on to be the leader of the Vampires, taking over the next town over the following year. The girlfriend or wife that he was having issues with would then have to help save the town, and in the process, kill Evan to save the town. It would make for great drama and would have been an ending I'd have loved to see. The movie really wasn't that great, and even if there was a sequal, I wouldn't go to see it.



After the movie, I smoked one last cigarette. I gathered my laptop and new W magazine I just got in the mail yesterday (that bitch is huge! It's the biggest issue I've received in a while). I left without giving any hugs. I just told them I'd talk to them later. I drove home in the dark. It was 1AM when I pulled back into my driveway. I was rather disappointed that I missed out on Scott, but I'm sure I'll hear a full blown excuse today, and if not today, hopefully tomorrow. I am not going to call him. He seemed interested enough to begin with, and even if I don't talk to him today, we still have plans for dinner next week when things cool off. I'm still debating on whether I'll call him after my pilates class today when I drive to work in Portsmouth.

I have my fingers crossed, but on this one, I think I'll let him come to me. Good things come to those who wait. I can't wait to see how this one plays out.

"Gonna Make this a Night to Remember"

"Get ready...tonight. Gonna make this a night to remember!" Shalamar is amazing. My mom has the record from back in the day. I used to put it on the record player and put it on 45 speed. I loved listening to that song fast.

Tonight should be a night to remember. The past few days have brought horoscopes into my inbox speaking of nothing but love. I'm on the verge of something big and new. Love is looking really good. Today my horoscope told me that whatever I wanted, I should ask for because chances are I'll get it. It also said that I should be careful and think through things carefully. It said that I can put myself in situations when seeking attention. I'm a little hesitant but willing to keep my eyes and ears open.

I've had a hard time concentrating in class all day. I have had my head in the clouds. My thoughts have been elsewhere. Last night I stayed home. The conversations on the Gay.com chat room led me to Scott. Scott is in his thirties. He just moved to Norfolk all of seven days ago today. We talked about Norfolk, and about food, and before I could even suggest it, he invited me to his condo next week to cook dinner for me. It will be perfect. We'll spend an evening in, share great conversation, and get to know each other in a comfortable setting. I read his profile carefully. It read like a recipe including all great traits under the ingredients section. There was even a warning against bitter, jealous, and mean people. It was clever, and kind, and spoke volumes to his character. I was entirely impressed. He gave me his e-mail, but figuring it'd be a nightmare trying to orchestrate dinner plans through such an inconvenient medium, I gave him my cell number. He gave me his, having to look it up since it's a new number for him. His parents are in town for a few more days, so once he's situated, I'll go over. I told him I could show up early and help him cook. He suggested I hang out and drink wine and let him do all the work. I offered to bring over my iPod and my jack so I could hook it up to his speakers. He said he has XM, so I'm sure I'll be able to find a good smooth jazz channel. I envisioned myself sitting comfortably, wine in hand, smiling and talking to Scott as he cooked. I'd walk up from behind, set my class down, and wrap my arms around him from the back. He'd look over his shoulder, smiling, setting down his cooking utensils, and kiss me sweetly. I'm horribly romantic I'm afraid.

I looked back over Scott's profile today. I was skimming it and saw that he is a lawyer. His weaknesses included blue-eyed southern boys. That's not me, but I am southern by birth. How does the saying go? "American by birth, Southern by the grace of God." It brings to my head a quote from "Sweet Home Alabama." "Go back to your double wide and deep fry somethin'!"

I called him as planned on his lunch break. I was between classes, so it worked out beautifully. He was waiting to have his car towed. His tire was flat. He removed the lug nuts himself but wasn't able to get the tire off, so he had to call a towing company. The phone call was cut short so he could insure that the towing people get into the gate of his complex. Apparently he lives in a condo in a gated community. He asked if I had plans tonight and I said no. He said he may have to stay late to work on a contract, but he'd like to get together for drinks or something. I guess this pushes the date a little bit forward. I'm still banking on next week being amazing. I almost don't want to go to his condo tonight because I don't want to spoil the future magic.

He's gorgeous. Half Puerto Rican and half mutt (as he referred to his father's nationality in his profile). He's my height but weighs in about thirty pounds heavier than myself. He hits the gym regularly. He walks to work since it's less than five minutes away. This is great. I really like that. I'm so impressed by him with the little bit I know so far. His voice is deep and calming. His arms are bulky and scream to be around me (if I do say so myself).

When the evening is finished and everything has unfolded, I'll be sure to write in agonizing detail the events of the evening. I can't wait. I'm breathless and on cloud nine. I shouldn't put all my eggs in one basket, I know. Love deeply. It's the only way to live. What do I have to lose?

Shitty Mondays

I can't believe that Ryan already has comments from complete strangers popping up on his blog after starting it only a whopping two days ago! I'm a little irritated by this. I feel like my blog is going on quite unnoticed. I need to get readers, and normally I'd pull a stunt like advertising it from my Myspace account, but if I did, then everyone I wouldn't want to read it would have equal access. Oh well, I'll just have to keep spreading it by word of mouth. One day you'll see all my words wrapped up tightly in a hard bound book on the New York Times bestseller list. Then you'll appreciate me. What a joke to think I'd hit NYT status from writing about drunken stupors and social misunderstandings. 

I worked this morning, but in reality, I did nothing. I fielded phone calls for the larger part of the morning. I had a pretty great pilates session at 12:00PM and finished in an hour. I drove out on Fort Monroe to meet up with Kasey, boss-lady/superstar diva. She's like a nice, well-mannered, Southern version of Miranda Priestly from "The Devil Wears Prada." This would make me Anne Hathaway but let it be said that I started out looking the way she ended up in the movie. I've been the fashionisto from day one. I met her out for a PR event for the Credit Union. I was introduced to everyone as I entered the room. Kasey smiled and walked me from one impeccably dressed woman to the next. "This is my assistant, Ryan."

"Pleasure...Nice to meet you...How do you do?" I am well versed in social etiquette, so I really had a field day with the whole thing. I ate complimentary Chick-fil-A and drank a bottle of water. I chatted with a German woman in the next booth over briefly. We passed out fliers for a while before packing up and heading out. We stopped by the bank branch on post and spoke briefly with my normal bank boss who was filling in out there for the day since that particular branch manager was out sick. We stayed for a good while discussing the business practices that have been so poorly implemented within our institution. Kasey is our marketing director and also the CEO of her own new company. I'm the Social Media Coordinator for Cosmetic Procedure Resource Alliance. The website is listed in my links if you'd like to check it out. Her new baby is spreading it's wings and I'm helping her as much as I can. My mission for the day was to go by salons and spas to lay out fliers, but since it was a Monday, most salons stayed closed. I didn't have to go to Portsmouth with Kasey. She had events planned that needed tending to. I headed back home. I ran to Bank of America, did some minor business and also made a call to T-Mobile. I bitched them out for poor customer service and threatened to cancel my service. I really expected them to give me that damn BlackBerry Curve to keep me but they really didn't try too hard. Some tragic sounding guy (probably fat, wearing glasses, and sweating profusely in some cheap short sleeve white oxford in a cubicle) made it a point to apologize, but it was obviously not within his limits to give me what I asked. 

"That's a fairly recent phone, so that's going to be a little more expensive. I could get you the Pearl for $199." 

"No, that's quite alright." I practically slammed the receiver down (in this case, I just punched the end call button as hard as I could. 

Oh well, I just got my taxes back anyways. I carried myself up to the T-Mobile store. I hate going in there. The employees are so detached. There's a ghetto white girl that was obviously spawned from white trash, a clueless back guy that I'm sure is still a trainee after six months, and a nice guy named Jovan that I knew from the mall T-Mobile kiosk from years ago. He would've hooked it up but he really couldn't.

"$369. But three hundred dollars isn't too bad for a cell phone. I have that phone."

I wasn't going to do it. I almost did before slapping myself mentally and thinking, 'what in fuck's name were you about to go do, spending all that money on that damn phone.' I left empty-handed.

I came home, put away clean dishes from the dishwasher, and retreated to my room. I talked to Andrew, and he swung by my house to drop off a DVD he said I would love with acclaimed French porn star Francois Sagat. I didn't know what to say really. Andrew and I smoked a cigarette outside before he left. He's just staying in tonight. It's Monday, and I can't blame him. This is a really shitty Monday. There's nothing to do. I feel tired and lazy. I've still got the itch though. I haven't been out since Friday and I'm itchin' hard. My stomach is screaming for booze. I need liquor. I feel naked and empty. As terribly bad as I'd like to drop by the Pocket, drink, and chain smoke, I know I have to stay home. I'm five minutes away from popping open a beer though.

My history class is canceled tomorrow since the class is ahead. The test is scheduled for Thursday morning at 8AM but it has been available online since Saturday. I'm going to still wake up early tomorrow, get dressed, and take the online version from home. 

I'm going to get that beer now. I'm so depleted of alcohol at this point it's not even funny. Mild alcoholism? No. Major barfly-ism. It's not all about the booze; it's about the accompanying cigarettes, bar drama, and all the mess that comes with the scene. 

The Lunch Boy Event

I shot lunch boy a text earlier and he said he was pretty free today. After over three hours had passed since his last text message, I decided to meet Dallas out in Gloucester and see where she's living now (her aunt's house). I drove out there, carting my hookah with me. Dallas met me at a Wendy's and I followed her to her boyfriend's house before going to her aunt's. I met Brian's parents and brother. We ate reuben's and smoked cigarettes on the front porch. We left to head over to Dallas's new home. She drove, leaving my car at Brian's. On the way there I got a phone call. I yelled at Dallas to turn down the music from her back seat. It was him. He was actually calling. I answered. He was in Yorktown and wanted to hang out. I told him the deal and that I'd call him on my way back home later on. We smoked hookah at Dallas's aunt's home and left shortly after. I got back to my car and darted back home. I went directly to his house to pick him up. He met me in my car. I took the two of us back to my house. I took him to my room and showed him my DVD collection. He chose "Saved" with Mandy Moore. He said he wanted to smoke hookah first, so the two of us smoked in the garage since I can't smoke in the house. We smoked cigarettes out back between hookah hits. We came back upstairs after fixing ice cream (he was craving it and asked if we had any). We ate our ice cream and watched the movie, laying side by side on my bed. It was surreal. Conversation revealed that he was bisexual but didn't like being asked about his sexuality. I was glad I never asked, and even more glad that he said he was comfortable around me. I didn't put any moves on him because I didn't want to force anything or make him uncomfortable. I slid closer to him to where our arms brushed and stayed touching. He didn't say anything. He talked during the movie and made me laugh. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to wrap my arm around him and rub his broad back. I didn't want to make him nervous. It will come if it is supposed to come. We smoked another cigarette and I took him home. Our empty ice cream bowls and glasses are still sitting beside me right now. I didn't kiss him or even hug him when he got out of the car, but it wasn't awkward. I asked him if he wanted to do something Wednesday, and he told me he will be off. He told me to call or text him, so I will. I'm excited. I apologized for not getting out and doing something tonight but he was glad we stayed in. He said it was nice and that he had a great time. I'm pleased. I'm light. I'm airy inside. I'm being real about this though and won't put all my eggs in one basket. I'm comfortable around him, but I'm keeping an open eye for flaws. There are deal breakers, and when he said he'd been to the Garage down in Norfolk (a grungy 21+ gay bar) and that he'd met Skip and been into his office to say hello, I almost cut him loose mentally then and there. Skip is a dirty old man who likes young boys. He's nice and cordial, but I've heard enough to know that he just wants to get his socks blown, and I'd hate to think of my friend getting tied up in any of that. Well, Wednesday will be here before I know it. I'll have to come up with a great plan.

First Decent Saturday Night / The Unexpected Talk

I spent my Saturday night in a way I can't ever remember having done before. Ryan had called earlier in the afternoon, being one of at least five people to wake me from my much needed nap (making up for lost sleep- 10 hours in two days to be exact). The phone rang loud in my ear as I lay horizontally across the bed, my arms hanging off the edge. I cracked open my eyes and lifted my head out of a puddle of drool that had gathered beneath my mouth. Incoming call from Ryan. I had already taken calls from Miranda, Andrew, and so I had no problems taking one more. Ryan was in the middle of completing some school work. He didn't mention going out, and when it was brought up, he shook off the idea quickly. I let it slide, figuring he'd call me later on in the evening with the itch. You know the kind; it's the itch that starts in your stomach gently whispering, "Fill me with liquor, I'm thirsty," and eventually works it's way up to your brain, making you realize, "I should be getting dressed, I should be fixing up my hair, I should be painting on my face." Well, I clicked the "end call" button and plopped my head down again. I woke up around 6:00PM, preparing myself to drive up to Ryan's place. I got dressed, and though it wasn't mentioned that we would go out, I dressed up ANYWAYS just to be safe. I donned Gap's long and lean boot cut jeans, black Zegna dress shoes (square toed of course, I AM gay you know!), and a red stretch Express oxford, unbuttoned towards the top with a black necklace, black belt, and black hat to pull it all together. I drove to Ryan's house, knocking on the door to hear him yell, "Come in!"

The apartment was being cleaned. Ryan's sleeves were pushed back and he was spraying down everything in the kitchen with chemicals. I lit up a cigarette. Ryan's place is quite possibly my only sanctuary that allows me to smoke inside. My favorite thing to do is smoke cigarettes in bed. I love doing this because I'm never allowed to do this. I have never smoked in my house, so it's always a treat to be at Ryan's house. Ryan complained about the dishes.

"When Rob cooked dinner the other night, those dishes sat in the sink from Thursday until today." Today was Saturday, and I was there when he cooked that meal. I helped him make it, dirtying literally every pot, pan, and skillet in the whole place. Ryan was exhausted, I could see it in his eyes.

Ryan works every day and has Tuesdays and Thursdays off since he has school on those days. I feel like he works way too hard to have to be concerned with cleaning the way he does. It's pretty ridiculous how I'll show up at the house, and Rob will be on the couch playing video games, surrounded by overflowing ash trays, empty soda cans, and spent packs of cigarettes. My mom has always been such a neat freak, it drives me mad having any clutter around at all. Rob apparently has never been driven enough to clean up after himself unless you light a fire under his ass and force him, and even then, I'm sure he bitches the whole time. I try really hard not to be too hard on Rob because:

1) He really is a great guy

2) He has a great personality

3) He has his moments where he's all smiles and is fun to be around

But it gets really difficult for me to keep my mouth shut because:

1) Rob can be extremely lazy and unmotivated

2) He can get angry for no apparent reasons

3) His bad moods have recently been outweighing his good ones

4) I don't see him treating Ryan as good as Ryan treats him

So Ryan finished up in the kitchen; I emptied two ash trays that were full. Ryan's mission for the evening was as follows:

A. Go to Target or Wal*Mart

B. Buy large plastic bins to aid in the sorting of their laundry (which up to this point has littered almost every room upstairs)

C. Get food (Ryan had been craving corn on the cob for at least a month and a half now)

Ryan and I smoked one last cigarette on his front steps before getting into my car (which is not smoked in, mind you). We talked about Rob briefly. I know Ryan is frustrated. Ryan at least has a boyfriend, while I do not, but even then, I would never want to put myself in the position Ryan is currently in. I deal with matters independently. I have Ryan as my best friend, and I tolerate Rob. There are good times when I really do have fun with Rob, but I've just seen him get more and more out of line recently.

Ryan and I got into the car and took the back roads to get to Target. They had been remodeling the inside. Ryan grabbed a cart and looked at the empty space and stains on the floors and walls.

"Can you smell the fungus?" he commented.

"Can you smell the asbestos?" I asked back.

We browsed pet items, Ryan buying a scratching thing for the cats, and looked at wall decor. We found the big plastic bins. Ryan bought four plum colored bins to sort clothes. If I remember right, they were for whites, darks, sweaters, and work clothes maybe? While walking to electronics and the CD section I spotted an attractive man. He was wearing pointy leather boots, dark jeans, and a green oxford covered by a dark sweater vest that fit snugly above.

"Look at that guy Ryan," I spoke.

"Doesn't he scream 'fag'?" Ryan responded.

"Doesn't he scream 'my next boyfriend'?" We laughed. The man was oblivious to our presence, obviously wrapped up in selecting the perfect DVD.

I found a ethernet cable in the electronics department. I had lost mine and never replaced it. Usually I use wireless and have no problems, but a lot of hotels have wall jacks only, and my school has the shittiest wireless I've ever received.

Ryan found a killer tinted moisturizer that he loves and threw it in the cart. We went to check out. Ryan's debit card was demagnetized. The damn trainee had to gather a herd of at least three other cashiers to help her manually enter the card.

"Would you be interested in saving $6.32 on your purchase today?" she asked, definitely living up to her trainee responsibilities.

"No thanks," Ryan spoke rather unenthusiastically. They finished fixing him up, and I moved up to make my single purchase.

SIDE NOTE:

Earlier on that day (Saturday afternoon) I received a stack of mail. I opened it all, finding credit card offers, magazines, and bank statements. One statement was that of my credit card from Bank of America that I'd been practically melting for the past couple months. I've been putting gas on it, and booze on it, and food on it. I figured, Hell, I have a fifteen hundred dollar limit, I'm just using it on piddly purchases, I'll be good for a while. That statement showed my current balance. It was over $1,300, and If I remember correctly, I only had like $178 available on it. I knew it was close. I also have two paychecks and a small stash of cash I've been waiting to throw down on the card, but I hadn't been able to get to the bank since I work during normal banking hours.

At the register I inserted my card into the reader. I waited for the box to pop up for me to sign. She turned her screen towards me,

"Your card was declined."

I'm sure my face was quite the sight at that moment, but I had been expecting it sooner or later. I tried to stay calm. I pulled out a ten and a five from my pocked to pay for the $10.58 purchase.

Ryan and I loaded the stuff in the back seat of the car. Pulling out of the parking lot I asked him, "So what do you want to eat? There's Chick-fil-A and a Taco Bell right here."

"Wait, I think that's a KFC over there, I want corn on the cobb. Take a left."

We drove over and found a cut through in the parking lot to get us there. There was a curb preventing us from leaving the Mattress store's parking lot and entering the KFC lot. We parked as close as we could and got out and walked. Ryan decided to order the 8 piece dinner. We got it extra crispy, with mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and corn on the cob. They made us wait forever. I pulled out my BlackBerry and opened up PerezHilton.com and read Ryan all of the recent celebrity dirt. When we got back to the car with the bags of steaming all-American goodness, I turned to Ryan. "Reading about how fucked up all these celebrities lives are makes me feel a little better about my own. I guess that' why I love Perez Hilton so much."

Ryan laughed for a while. We talked shit about Perez for the next ten minutes between eating buttery biscuits in the car. "He's such a fat ass. They have him animated in the picture at the top to make him look skinny."

Back at the house Ryan fixed me a plate with everything. I had a drumstick and something else. I think it was a breast. I don't usually eat fried chicken because I'm terrified of any meat that still has bones in it. I never know where the bones are (unless it's a drumstick, which I normally stick to). I ate everything and picked as much meat as I could off of the breast. Ryan swallowed down that damn corn so fast I was waiting for him to choke. He ate two ears. Rob called saying he was on his way home. Ryan read a Word document out loud to me that he's been working on for his class. It was really great. He spoke about his family ties and gave background on the relationships that he's been surrounded by. I read Ryan the last two entries from my blog out loud, reading them off of my BlackBerry.

Ryan liked the concept and spoke about collaborating and writing something together. He went to the Blogger.com site and started his own blog up. I helped him pick out a format and load it up. He's written a couple entries so far. It will be really interesting now to read things from my point of view and then read his blog to see what his perception on things was. The link to Ryan's new blog is http://ryerye78.blogspot.com/ The link has also been posted on the right side of this page.

Ryan wrote in his blog, asking my advice to help list the top five songs of the week and adding five close runners up. We did that.

"I feel like I should be upstairs and getting ready." I knew what Ryan meant and I was itching so bad for it myself, I didn't know what to honestly do.

I told him, "I feel like I'm denying my body it's natural right to get fucked up." He looked at me like I was stupid.

"How is it a natural right?" he said. I laughed.

"You know what I mean." I left it at that.

It was twelve, then twelve forty. Ryan had mentioned showing up at the pocket and tipping every drag queen but Naomi. I'm sure he wasn't serious. I'm never going back, and he doesn't want to either. I just don't want to be that weak. I don't want to show back up and smile for them all over again. It was too late anyways.

I put on my coat, now newly motivated to redo the formatting on my own blog. Rob was home now, sitting in the corner wearing a wife beater and his slacks from work. I told them both goodnight and made for the door.

I didn't last very long before falling asleep. I was woken this morning by my mom.

"We're getting ready to go to the 8:30 service at church."

"It's too early, can we do eleven?"

"No, I have to show property today."

I passed back out. Dad woke me up later. I went back to sleep. Then I hear two girls voices. One is my sister. The other was a friend I guess.

"Dammit, I'm in my underwear and my hair is all jacked up. I can't even walk to the shower now without them seeing," I thought to myself. Instead of making any great effort, I got out of bed, turned on several lights in my room, and played some music on my iPod. I hung up the clothes that had been clean and laying neatly on my floor for almost a week. I'd just been too busy, running from work and school and to social functions. I hung up everything, organizing and separating jeans from khakis from black and gray slacks. I hunt up all my oxfords on one side of the closet, separating solid dress shirts from patterned dress shirts. I hung all the polo shirts together and all the tees side by side. I cleaned out the bottom of my closet, clearing out old school notebooks and throwing out unnecessary papers and old work schedules. I pulled out two canvas messenger bags and one Ralph Lauren carry-on sized bag. I emptied out the contents of all three, sorting through bottles of water, old check stubs, broken pencils, and tanning bed lotions. In one of the canvas bags I found a stack of OLD SCHOOL Penthouse magazines that someone had given me years ago. I don't know who even gave them to me, but I never even opened them. I just stashed them. I put them in a different, more disposable bag and stuck them back at the bottom of the closet. I put all the empty messenger bags inside of the big Polo bag and put it back inside the closet as well. All of this closet and clothes business took up over an hour. I took a shower and dressed in shorts and an old tee. I threw on some flip flops and my big Abercrombie coat. I grabbed a Camel Menthol Light out of the pocket and stepped out the back door.

"Hey Ryan." My dad was sitting on the steps. He scared the shit out of me.

"I didn't even see you there." I lit up my cigarette. He was tinkering with the chain from the chain saw. I had seen him outside cutting back the crepe myrtle tree earlier.

My dad and I don't have conversations. We see each other in passing and are cordial towards each other.

"Chad didn't come home last night?" I asked.

"No, he spent the night at Alex's."

"Have you ever seen that apartment complex?" the corners of my mouth turned down as I spoke.

"Yeah, they live in shit." Dad was obviously disappointed.

The following ten minutes revolved around the people that Chad has been hanging around with. It wasn't good.

"I'm really disappointed in him." My dad looked down at the chain again.

"You know, I can party just as hard as him but in a different way, and I still pull B's and A's."

"I know, and I'm so proud of you. I never have to worry about you. You'll be fine. You can come home at two and three in the morning, but you still get up at seven to go to work the next day. You have a drive and that's great." I beamed. My dad really loves me. I shared his opinions on my brother. There's no talking any sense into him though. He's just going to keep smoking weed everyday and failing out of school. He's failing Biology and everyone is convinced he's just not putting forth any effort. It's been over six weeks and he hasn't even opened the book. My dad wasn't pleased. I feel bad for my brother, but he's done all of this to himself. He's let everything go. He doesn't care. He will stay out for three nights back to back, spending the night at Alex's house and getting fucked up with him and his friends. I know he doesn't have a toothbrush in his car or at their house. It's disgusting. When Chad demand his braces be took off, the dentist was very concerned about Chad's dental health. The boy hardly brushes his teeth. He had terrible build up and decay at the gum line all around. My parents have just had it with him. Dad says he should take his tax money (Chad's) and get his teeth fixed finally. You can't talk sense into him though. I suggested Chad join the air force since they really don't get deployed too much and they're unofficially known as the "chair force." It isn't a bad idea. He'd at least have a government job and benefits. The conversation finally migrated away from my brother and his financial problems, drug abuse, and educational issues. My dad and I talked about my educational path and projected transfer date. I talked about post-college plans.

"I don't know why but I keep thinking about Texas, even though I've never been. I also really like Tennessee and I never thought I would until we went last year."

"I've been looking at Tennessee a lot too. We're going to retire there. I keep looking at property on Craigslist." I knew he had been looking for a while. My dad could transfer work out there now but he wouldn't have the same health benefits and wouldn't be able to retire as early as he can here. So it looks like a ten year plan. He'll retire in ten, and then get out to Tennessee.

I finished my cigarette and put it out. My dad walked back around the house to get to the front side where he'd been cutting down the tree's dead limbs. I felt great about myself, and somehow felt even sorrier for my brother. It sounds like he has a year or less to clean his shit up or he's getting kicked out. My parent's can't just keep giving him gas and cigarette money while he stays home sleeping all day or smoking all night. He goes to school now because he's forced to, but he shows no initiative at all. I walked into the house and tried to clear my mind.

I sent Lunch Boy a text message asking him if he had plans for this 'otherwise uneventful sunday.'He had to visit his dad and said he had no other plans. I asked him if he wanted to hang out. He said "if i have time yea." I told him I had a hookah we could smoke and I also had two random tickets to the Virginia Air and Space Center (museum AND IMAX). His response, "word." That was at 1:42PM, it's now 4:20PM. I just got off the phone with Jimbo. We talked for a while about recent news that included the fall out at the Pocket, and other minor drama. I don't know what to do now. I want to smoke hookah but I need to figure out who I want to come over and enjoy it with. I'm going to make some phone calls. Maybe later on tonight I'll head down to Norfolk and see what's going on at Skip's. It's a neighborhood gay bar similar to the Pocket but bigger, with more people, and a small dance floor (I've rarely seen it used). I'll call Ryan later on and see if he'd be up to it.

Anyways, I need to go do something productive.

Secret Dance Night

Friday's at the Wave are called "Indie Night" or "Secret Dance Night." DJ Danny always spins a great mix of electro, 80's, and really good indie rock that everyone loves to dance to. I somehow ended up at the Wave again last night.

Let me preface this club experience by the evening's earlier events. I worked until five. I had a beer with my entreprenuer boss lady and her husband. "It's Friday!" she screamed, making the beers a necessary ritual, completely right and justified by a week's worth of hard toiling in her upstairs office. I finished the beer and a cigarette out back before returning to the interior of the house. We spoke in the kitchen about the ab's diet and how well it worked. Her husband cut out to pick up Chinese take out for dinner, and I left at the same time, leaving her to her family.

I drove directly to Victoria's house, beating her there. Her mother let me in. I was still in my work clothes, and quite uncomfortable at this point. I was wet, tired, and hungry.
"Are you hungry?" she asked.
"I'm starved actually, but I have a pear and some bottled water."
"We had pancakes tonight, you sure you don't want me to fix you some?" Lord, I love this woman.
"Okay, that sounds great." I was thrilled to learn I'd be refuelling.
I went upstairs and changed my clothes. I ate those two pancakes that were not leftovers as I had suspected, but made from leftover batter. I finished those as Victoria came home. The plan was that we (Victoria, her sister Caitlin, LeeAnn, and me) would ride together to go to a sex toy party being thrown by one of Caitlin's long time friends.

Victoria drove my car when we learned that there would be alcohol at the party. She had never driven my car before, and was a little hesitant having that liability. She drove, and I programmed the in-dash navigation to take us to this foreign destination. We got to the party early. I quickly began devouring mexican bean dip with tortilla chips, fixing a margarita and grabbing a seat on the black leather sectional.

I entertained the women who put on the party. I watched as other girls spilled their drinks on the floor in the cramped room. The large girl speaking about the products tripped over my feet twice. She shouldn't have worn those metallic gold pointy stilettos. The dog Missy walked by, wagging her bony little tail, taking out one margarita on the table in the process. It was the second drink down. The girl who hosted was surely relieved to have hard wood floors. She had to take the Swiffer mop out not once but twice. The show and tell portion of the presentation was wrapped up, and one by one, individual orders were placed in the privacy of a seperate room. The girls ordered and I ate some taquitos.

The plan was to go to the Wave for Secret Dance Night. A truck pulled up with John and Michael inside. Victoria was in the driver's seat of my car, letting it warm up quietly in the dark. Caitlin's boyfriend brought her money to pay her cover charge, and Michael, Victoria's man, joined in my car, seating now at maximum capacity. Victoria took me back to my house and dropped me off. She took Michael back to John's house to grab his ID and was supposed to come back to get me after he retrieved it. She came back to get me with no Michael. LeeAnn was taken to her car so she could get ready. I had changed and resituated my face, accenting minor details in ways far too subtle to be noticeable in low light. Victoria and Caitlin got dressed and I sat on Vic's bed, watching the metamorphosis. Victoria tried on several things before settling on a pair of light gray skinny leg jeans, black patent leather pointy stilettos, and a bright orange long tank top. She coupled her ensemble with silver earrings that looked like wings, one in each ear. Vic teased her hair, messing it up just enough to look like she had a night of rough, but amazing sex. I painted her eyelids, giving her a smokey sultry look. She finished her makeup, and gave Caitlin a set of pearls to wear.

We arrived a little after eleven. It was dead. There was no line to get in. We walked around and waited in the back bar area for a crowd to gather. After midnight the bodies started filling the bar. Girls in dual colored leggings and miniskirts littered the bar. The guys with the longneck beers weren't far behind, checking out every skinny girl's ass in a 20 ft. radius.

I spotted a small sector of the small high school crew. There was the skinny tall straight girl, a shorter lesbian that I used to work with, and my 105% gay. The 105 guy cozied up to me like he was a long lost best friend, but nothing of the sort. I dislike him for denying his sexuality in highschool, being difficult, and not accepting himself. He's fine now and doesn't bring up the sexuality issue. It's just an assumed thing that doesn't come up anymore. I talked briefly and asked if the boys had fun the night before. They walked off after a few minutes. I hit the dance floor with the girls and we rocked out. Even without being lit, I had a good time. The music was a good mix, so it made for a decent night. While dancing, I looked over to see my lunch-mate. This time he was dancing on 105. The two were grinding in ways that would make any nun pass out and vomit on themself. I was happy to see that he was definitely feelin' men, but concerned that he was dancing with 105. I ignored the two and kept on dancing, smiling as much as I could. The time progressed and the girls and I found ourselves at a back bar table. Lunch boy came up to our group, all by himself. He took an active interest, asking me about my brother and my best friend from high school. He lit up a Marlboro red and I lit up a Marlboro menthol. He asked me if I wanted to step out to the patio. I found it strange, but honored his request. It was cold out. He sat in a chair and pulled one over close to him for me to park myself in. I listened to him. He told me his work schedule. He told me, "I meant to get back with you," talking about when we used to message each other. I wanted to smile, but held it in. He said when he'd be available for lunch or dinner. He paid attention to me and only me for those few minutes. I asked him what he was doing the next day since he said he is off on Wednesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays. He said, "I have a date at four. Dinner and a movie." He didn't say whether it was with a guy or a girl, and I didn't want to push the envelope. "Are you seeing anyone?" he asked curiously, not inquisitively.
"No, I'm not," I didn't look at him in the eyes (I didn't want to look overly interested), "I just got out of a relationship."
"Was it long-term?" he asked.
I thought for a second and responded, "Well, it was supposed to be." I smiled and he laughed out loud. I joined in for a while.
I told him I'd most likely be at the Wave again since I'm sure Ryan will want to go tonight. He said that when he's done with his date, he'll give me a call and hang out. I'm not holding my breath. Lunch boy is a year younger than me. He's taller than me. He's built husky. He's got muscles, and a comfortable body at the same time. He's the kind of guy I'd love to fall asleep with. He has arms that would feel great around me. I can't think of such things though. After a while, he went back in to see what his friends were up to. The club was dying slowly. The music got progressively worse.
"I'm ready to go when you are." Victoria was the first to speak when I met back up with her.
I grabbed her hand and motioned to her sister. Before saying any goodbyes to 105 or lunch boy, we slipped out.

In the car I joked with Vic about the lunch boy.
"I never thought he was like that. You can't even tell," said Vic.
"I know, but that's exactly the kind of guy I want to be with," I replied. I changed my voice and spoke sweetly, "I'd cook for him and clean up after him and make him the happiest man alive."
I laughed.
"Don't force it!" Victoria joked.
But in all honestly, ever since I heard the rumor that this friend was a big closet case, he's been on my mind. A lot at first, but I lost touch with him and put him on the back burner. Now that burner is boiling over and I don't know what to do. I'm going to play it by ear, be casual and friendly, and keep the door open for him in case he wants to come in and keep me company for a while. He seemed interested enough. On the way home I sent him a text message telling him that it was good seeing him out again and to drive home safely. Goodnight. He responded.
"u too. nite bud" I beamed from ear to ear and read it aloud to Victoria and Caitlin. LeeAnn had driven seperately. She danced a bit that night but cut out early.

I dropped Vic and her sister back at their house. I came home and crashed.

80's Night

Yesterday was Thursday. It was the day that Ryan, Robert and I had planned on going to the Wave with Andrew for 80's night. Ryan called early on in the afternoon and told me that he and Rob wouldn't be joining us. BLAH. Quite unfortunate, but the news has no impact on me. I was going, with or without Ryan. I called Andrew and confirmed the 'evening appointment' and we were still on.

I got out of class at 6:45PM. Andrew was at a friend's house, but somehow conned me into picking him up back at his house so he could join me in the hunt for a new shirt to wear for the night out. I arrived, picking him up, and carted the two of us up to Marshall's. I was looking for something unique and inexpensive, not really knowing how the evening would play out. At Marshall's the pickin's were slim. I was confronted with having to shop in the smallest men's department I've possibly ever seen. The clearance racks weren't promising either. I tried to force myself to be attracted to something, but the plain oxfords weren't singing my name from the racks. Walking towards the front door, I saw a small table with a few hair products and quickly grabbed a bright banana yellow BedHead brush infused with tourmaline. $8 was spent at Marshall's and yet no clothes filled the cheap plastic bag when we left. In the parking lot, a young latino man walked towards the door. Andrew's biggest weakness is latin men, so I immediately glanced at him to see his eyes glued to the guy. "You want to go back in?" I smiled at him.

I decided to make one last stand and try my chances at TJ Maxx. Jackpot. I looked for a while before settling on an olive colored Polo Ralph Lauren tee shirt with a splashed on graphic starting on the chest moving directly up to the neckline. It was a small, and it looked pretty decent, so for $13, I figured I'd try it out, and if it didn't work, I had more than enough options back at the house.

Andrew and I drove back to my house since it was still early. I sprayed my hair one more time, pushing it up from the back making sure that I owned every inch of heaping volume piled up at the back of my head. While this went on, I received a phone call from my lab partner Emily. Em needed some chem lecture notes and was on her way over. She showed up. I pulled the pages out of my notebook and gently arranged them in the three prong folder I had put the first test's notes in for her to borrow. She really started to wear out her welcome. She told the whole story of her ex boyfriend and how he cheated on her and wanted her back and wouldn't stop calling her and yadda yadda yadda. Every time I looked at Andrew, he rolled his eyes, obviously sharing my thoughts at the moment. I finished my face work, filling in my eyebrows and mustache, using bronzer on my cheeks to give me added depth.

Emily walked out of the door with Andrew and me. I waited for her to hurry up while she started chatting leisurely with my mom before hitting the front door. Andrew was restless again. We left, severing ties to the house. I went and gassed up. Andrew went in to the convenient store to buy one of those "5 Hour Energy" drinks. I picked up the small bottle while he used the ATM machine. Nutrition facts: Vitamin B6- Daily % . . . . . 2,000%! Vitamin B12. . . . . 8,333%!!!
"Five hours will put you to 3AM!"
"Okay, well you drink half and I'll drink half," Andrew protested.
I drove to pick up Andrew's friend Terry. We grabbed Terry and headed to the closest interstate on-ramp. Andrew drank half of the bottle. He passed the minature bottle to me. I finished it up, feeling like Alice in Wonderland drinking the growing and shrinking potions. It tasted like extremely concentrated and uncarbonated Red Bull, but not intolerable altogether.

The drive went well. We rocked out to new Hot Chip and Kylie Minogue, Seal, and one really really gay song by RuPaul that went something like this:
"How do I look?!"
"You look good!"
"How do I feel?!"
"You feel good!"
"How do I look?!"
"You look good! Lookin' good and feelin' gorgeous!"
RuPaul sang on and on about looking legendary, and having to send text messages from her Blackberry to her agency, not the escort agency, the modeling agency, "I have coins to make gurrrl!" Andrew and I laughed, and Terry joined in. I acted as gay as I could, living up ever minute of the drive trying to get all three of us pumped and motivated for the night ahead.

The three of us crossed the street after parking and got through the front door without having to wait in any line. Andrew paid my cover charge, as planned, and we lit up cigarettes simultaneously. Terry doesn't smoke, so he just hung out. Andrew went to pick up a Long Island Ice Tea from the bar, obviously planning on getting pretty shitty. The bar didn't pick up until closer to midnight.

The crowd was young. It was very mixed also. 80's night at the Wave used to be an overflow of the Saturday crowd; gay men came in wearing all kinds of skinny leg jeans and Chuck Taylor Converse shoes. An article hit in the paper, The Virginian Pilot to be exact, giving great reviews of the Wave's weekly Thursday night bash. It was half and half for a while. Now, I'd almost venture to say it's about 60% hetero and 40% homo IF that. The usual crowd tends to consist of young trendy girls, queeny gay guys, and a few straight men lookin' for a piece (if you know what I mean). They're the type of guys who rarely dance, clinging to their longneck beers and smoking way too many cigarettes. I can't say I'm not guilty of consuming more than my fair share of nicoteine when I go to the Wave. I'm usually nervous since I'm not the hottest meat in town (like at the Pocket). I smoke profusely, unable to dance without a glowing ember waving around along with my left hand.

Andrew mentioned on the car ride over that we had to look extra good because, "I was pretty sloppy last week and made out with some fat guy. The next day I get this phone call from some guy who tells me he's in his thirties, he's a male nurse, and he lives with his parents. I mean, is that supposed to impress me?" After a while, he turned to me in the bar, "That fat guy's here."
"Where is he?" I asked
"I would never point him out because you'd loose too much respect for me."
Like all opposite ended magnets, somehow they still managed to connect that night. Andrew never bought another drink after his initial Long Island. "The fat guy" had a name, and that name was Rudy. I was introduced, but not on my own accord. I'd seen this guy before. He rolls with a nice crew. The men he keeps close are far thinner than him, and usually hit the gym at least five more times a week than he does. The men he hands around have chiseled bodies, great teeth, and sparkling eyes. I mean, GQ was created because of men like these. Later after hearing about all the drinks he'd purchased Andrew, I decided that the only reason the GQ crew stuck to him like flies to shit was because of his uncanny ability to buy rounds for everyone. I guess when you live with your parents, you don't pay the mortgage and can afford to splurge to aid in your lack of social abilities.

I walked to the back bar and managed to accidentally strike up a conversation with the bartender. I've seem him countless times before. This was two years ago when Ryan and I stayed hitting the Wave steadily every Thursday and Saturday for months on end. This bartender had a thing for Ryan, and so did everyone else. He would carry himself with so much confidence, I always felt like I was just following Ryan, trying to mimick his stance, his eyes, his wit. This particular bartender commented once that he loved the way Ryan would step down the stairs to the back bar, scanning the area, noting every face. Ryan always played the game, and he was damn good at it too. It was actually a copycat move for me to buy a new top to go out in. Ryan would buy a new outfit every single Saturday. I tell you what though, that new shirt made me keep my shoulders back, my stomach in, and I never felt more attractive. The bartender Gerard and I talked about cars, about Honda products, and gas mileage. I would try to walk away to get back to Andrew and Terry, but somehow couldn't. He smiled and did most of the talking. It was hard to get any words in, but I guess he just really needed an ear at that moment. The bar was crowding with needy dunks, and when they started slamming their glasses on the bar top, I patted Gerard's hand and told him I'd talk to him later.

Andrew was constantly disappearing. I'd turn to look at Terry to see if he could point me in the direction, and he would. He would point a finger and there Andrew would be, nestled in small circles of gay men all over the bar, bouncing from one to the next. I walked up behind him, waiting for an opportune moment to jump in and grab his attention, trying not to distract everyone else's. I felt more awkward than anything. I'm sure those guys he was talking to were wondering who that guy was that was standing so close to their circle for no apparent reason. Andrew was good about not talking too long though. He has the attention span of a gnat.

Terry, Andrew, and I ended up on the dance floor. For some reason Andrew's belt kept coming undone (I wondered whether this was planned or honestly accidental). Every two minutes Andrew would turn to Terry and say, "Hold this," and pass Terry is bought-and-paid for drink, courtesy of the hefty male nurse. Terry protested after about the fourth time. He was a good sport about it though.

During the evening, somehow I ran into a small army of people I went to high school with. One of them I'm 105% sure is gay. The other was a girl friend of theirs that I know is staight. The other guy that was with them used to be a regular friend. He used to eat lunch with my best friend and me when we were seniors. He is a year younger than us though. I always assumed him to be straight until I dated a guy who worked with him that claimed he was a "major closet case." My ears had been perked since then. He was the first from their group to come up to me and enthusiastically ask how I had been. I had exchanged a couple messages online with him after I heard he may in fact be gay. I didn't think anything of their group because it was 80's night and is perfectly acceptable to be straight and at the Wave on a Thursday. Had I seen him on a Saturday, it would have been a different story and a far more compromising situation. The night progressed and they tended to each other as I tended to Andrew and Terry on the dance floor.

I saw my lunch-time friend dancing on a girl, which is fine. What caught me off guard was the really gay guy dancing on his ass while he danced with the girl. He didn't look like he minded it or was just tolerating it. He was having a good time. I tried to ignore it and get on with the night as best I could. Andrew would wander off and I danced by myself for a while. I kept my head up, dancing and smiling in my own little world. I had a great time. An 80's song I didn't recognize started playing and I danced on. A very attractive man that wouldn't strike me as being gay walked past me, stopping to tell me, "I have a crush on this song."
"Oh really?" I stopped, smiling at him. He kept on walking and I went back to dancing. In retrospect, I wish I had grabbed his arm, pulled him back to me, and asked him if he'd mind enjoying it with me.

"Last call for alcohol!" boomed over the speakers. I gathered my ducklings seeing as I was the designated driver. I found Andrew, and Terry walked up at the same time. The lights came on and I hurried Andrew to pay out and leave with us. I didn't want to get caught up in the crowd waiting to get their ID's back at the door. Terry and I walked out after Andrew said he had to say his goodbyes. He said he'd meet us back at the car. The front door opened as other people filed out. It was cold, and there was no denying the fact that it was raining pretty hard. Terry and I held out breaths and took off, running all the way to the car. Mid-jog he spoke, "I hate this damn rain, you think white people hate getting their hair wet? My hair it like a sponge. Black people hate getting wet!" We finally made it back to the car on the other side of the street. I started the car and let it warm up while we waited for a shitty Andrew to get to the car. He was five to ten minutes behind us. He clumsily ran to the car, falling into the front seat.

The ride home was eventful to say the least. We argued the whole way jokingly. I ganged up with Terry, telling Andrew how shitty his boyfriend was for not drinking and never going out with him. Terry complained that Andrew's boyfriend was a racist, and Andrew's response was, "Everybody is a racist!" Andrew tried to protect the reputation of his boyfriend, but in the process his own ethics were put on trial. I chastised Andrew for making out with other men and letting them buy him drinks.
"Does that guy Rudy know you have a boyfriend!?" I asked (Rudy is the nurse).
"Yeah. I told him."
I asked him how he would feel if his boyfriend went out, kissing other men and letting them serve him alcohol superfluously. He didn't like that concept, and I'm hoping he learned that his boyfriend really wouldn't appreciate his actions either.
"You're just mad because you can't even keep a man!" Andrew was bringing me into this now.
"It's not that I can't keep a man, I just get bored easily, and then they have to go." I tried to keep my composure and not feel back about the fact that none of my boyfriends in the past two years have lasted for more than two months, or even two weeks in most cases. I held up and brushed it off since we were really just playing along and taking advantage of Andrew's blood alcohol content levels at this point.

I dropped off Terry. I dropped off Andrew. I dropped myself off, and stripped off my clothes in my room. I laid my head down, my body ready to recharge. My mind raced. I sang songs in my head. I thought about the night. I thought about that damn 5 hour energy shit that now kept me from my sleep. I don't remember falling asleep but I do remember waking up the next day at 7:45AM to start getting ready for a Friday morning of work.

Wednesday Night Follow Up

In my previous entry, I mentioned a graphic dream. I retold this story while at work this morning. When I left work, a car pulled out behind me, following me briefly on the road. It was a metallic light blue Volkswagon Passat. I called my mom, terrified, and told her about my dream. She told me to get away from the car, but it had already turned down a side road.

I met Koi for dinner at a Japanese sushi place. We ran into his friend Mina who owns a hair salon next to the restaurant. We sat at the adjacent table and shared stories (Mina, husband Brian, Koi, and myself). Koi and I ate tempura, miso soup, and a small salad. We both ordered sashimi. We stared at the raw fish when it landed in front of the two of us. I wanted to poke at it and play with it instead of eating it. I closed my eyes and took a bite of the white fish. The consistency was unlike anything I've ever eaten. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't amazing. I hardly ate any of it, and neither did Koi. We laughed and took it home in boxes. I gave my box to Koi to feed to his dog. Koi and I smoked a cigarette in the parking lot, talking briefly before he left, and I followed suit.

Instead of driving home, I called my friend Warren who I hadn't seen in months. He was home, and he answered, so I went. I showed up at his back door. We smoked cigarettes and I joined him in a cocktail. We watched American Idol, and during commercial breaks, I filled him in on recent drama. After Idol, we watched the end of a filmed broadway musical entitled "Company." I loved it. It was so unique; it was truly a timeless piece. Company is about a group of friends, some married, and one single man named Bob who doesn't want to get married. The musical follows his character, and his progress. At the end, he realizes what it means to be married, and decides that he needs that in his life to make him alive. I left Warren's house sometime after 11PM. I drove home, thinking it was raining, but upon further inspection, decided that it was snowing. I could only see white gusts in my headlights. Nothing hit the windshield. I gazed up towards the street lamps to see clouds of white billowing and dancing slowly downwards. It wasn't sticking, but it was beautiful.

I'm home now. I'm restless. I want to be in love...

End of a Good Thing

I had a dream last night. Driving to work, I suddenly saw the images flood into my head and remembered the details. It was the most vivid dream I have had in months. The sun shone brightly on a summer day. I was driving behind a motorcycle. The driver did a wheelie, pulling the bike up almost completely perpendicular to the road. A metallic light blue Volkswagon Passat in the oncoming lane ran into the biker while he was mid-wheelie. I slammed on the breaks, swinging my car over into the right hand lane and stopping in front of the curb. I looked down and to the left and nearly threw up. The motorcyclist's helmet had disappeared; he lay there motionless, in a contorted manner so grusome, I could barely look. His body was three or four feet from my car, underneath the driver's front wheel of the Volkswagon. His legs were limp, and is upper body was bent in half over top of himself. He wasn't bent at the waist though, he was bent at the bottom of his ribcage, his upperbody laying on top of his lower abdomen and hipbone. I stared on in horror as the middle aged man with reddish colored hair in the VW leaned his head out the window, looked as if he was going to be ill, and then backed his car up off of the body.



I don't know the meaning of this dream. I don't want to know. Last night was bad news, so maybe it's linked to that. After I got out of my night class, I started to pull out of the parking lot only to see Ryan pulling in. I flashed my brights at him and he told me to loop back into the parking lot. I turned around and proceeded to drive down three or four rows of cars before finding his. We both got out of our cars and smoked a cigarette together. He invited me to with him and Rob. He called Rob from my phone, got the okay, and that was settled. He made me call the movie theaters too to see what time Diary of the Dead is playing. I listened to a menu longer than the New Testament before Ryan decided it was too cold to stand there, turning into pilars of ice in the parking lot. I got into my car, hung up on the robotic voice, and headed to Ryan and Rob's place.



Rob greeted me at the door, smiling. "I'm making chicken with saffron sauce." I followed him into the kitchen. I skinned three carrots, boiled green beans for ten minues, and sauteed carrots in butter. We added in turnips to the carrots, and cooked those down in the butter too. We threw all the vegetables together, and rob popped the chicken in the oven. That's when I gave up and resigned to the couch to smoke cigarettes and gently nurse the class of sauvignon blanc that Rob had poured me. Rob finished prepping the saffron sauce. Ryan got home at quarter to ten.

"The house smells wonderful," he proclaimed, wide-eyed at the front door. Rob ran into the kitchen, pulled out three beautiful plates, and laid a big red lettuce leaf on each one. He heaped a mound of the mix of turnips, carrots, string beans, and peas. Onto that he laid a layer of thinkly sliced chicken, and topped it all with a white sauce made of saffron and shallots. It was fabulous. All three of us sat on the couch and devoured it while Linda Blair hosted "Scariest Places on Earth" on the Travel Channel. The midget woman still did the voices inbetween scenes describing events and places being toured. "That bitch is still alive?" Ryan spat out.



After dinner we all showered Rob with compliments on his great success. He beamed with joy. He wants to go back to culinary school, so tonight was not only a nice dinner for Ryan, but a test for himself to see if he could do it and do it better than just good. It was great. I'll give him that. Ryan grabbed the remote and proceeded to flip through the Verizon OnDemand section. I was in the mood for a really good suspense/horror movie. We would watch a preview that looked fantastic, and I'd say something like, "Oooh, that looks good!" and Ryan would say something to the extent of, "Nah, I think I'll pass." He'd make looks of disapproval and switch back to the main menu over and over again. He finally decided that at 10:00PM it was already too late to start a movie.



"I wonder who's at the Pocket tonight." He didn't take his eyes off the television. Personally, I hadn't planned on showing face last night. I had made up my mind that it was going to be a dinner and a movie kind of night. "I really want to see Lenny and Rob. I haven't seen either of them in so long."

I didn't say too much. I kept my damn mouth shut. Finally Ryan broke down close to 10:25PM and asked Rob if he wanted to go, and asked me too. I shook my head yes, but it really would've been fine either way to me. I knew Ryan wanted to go though, so there was no use stopping it.

Ryan turned to Rob, "Get dressed."

Rob to Ryan, "I am dressed."

Ryan to Rob, "Then put your shoes on."

Ryan was getting irritated with Rob because when I told Rob to get ready, he flipped into bar mode and reared up to go. Ryan acted like he'd been begging Rob for weeks to go to the bar, him never wanting to go, and then me telling him one time changed his mind.

"I'm going to go outside and start the car." I had no intention of watching the apocalypse unfold inside Ryan's den. They emerged together after about ten minutes, both winding the way through the parking lot with lit cigarettes in hand. I could just see their dark forms and the burning cherries of the cigarettes. They flicked them both and got in the car.



The bar was dead, but Rob and Lenny were there, so Ryan was good with that. I ran to Lenny, hugged him, and set my jacket on the back of a chair.

"Well fine, don't say hi to me!" Rob kidded. I went over and gave him a hug, but he pushed me off. I grabbed him and leached myself onto him. He let me hug him and we laughed. Rob and Lenny didn't stay long. They usually ride together because Lenny isn't too fond of driving. I was drinking the same kind of beer that Rob had been drinking. Before he walked out, I set my beer down on the bar to go move my coat to my newly freed chair. I watched Rob pick up my beer, look at it once, and then pound it. He drank the rest of it. I didn't say anything. I jokingly told Frank and he gave me another one, not charging. I tipped him nearly a 50% tip



The bar started to fill with a couple new faces. Two of those faces were that of two underage guys from North Carolina who just moved to the area. Frank told us to go introduce ourselves. I would've done it, but Ryan said, "No," shooting a disapproving look at me, "We don't do that." He turned to Rob, "Do you want to play pool?"

"Not really."

"Come on," and Ryan led him, quarters in hand, to the pool table next to where the Carolina boys were sitting. Rob and Ryan played each other. The game was close. One would win by default, and they'd pretend they didn't see each other scratch on the 8, or accidently sink it in. The two boys laughed as they overheard our conversations. Ryan did introduce himself, Rob, and me. We ended back at the other side of the bar. The fatter of the two boys came and sat by Ryan for a while. Frank was talking to us, and at first, I thought he was just coming to get Frank's attention, but he stayed. I could get a better look at him now. He was wearing a black belt with silver studs on it, and a pink belt underneath it. He was crosseyed, and he had petite tits. As far as I was concerned, nothing was out of the ordinary. Frank and Ryan and I carried on, this guy listened. He left after a while. Ryan turned to me with his paranoid face on. "They're talkin' shit."

"Who?" I asked.

"Those two guys. That one just went over there and said 'I couldn't stand over there another second, they're so obnoxious'."

I was done with that bullshit from the moment I heard what Ryan had to say. "I couldn't stand lookin' at the bitch anyways. If I looked at his cross eyes any more, I was about to loose my saffron chicken." We laughed.

Ryan got real witty for a second. "At least we don't have to look at our bar tabs like this," and he held up a napkin, crossing his eyes and pretending to look really hard at it. We laughed. He can be such a bitch and I love it. He lights up my life, radiating with confidence and always knowing when and how to put people in their places.



Naomi Black and Jason showed up. Fushia, our two tons of fun drag queen was there too. She kept us company early on in the evening, but eventually retreated to talk with Naomi about God only knows what. After the incident with the two fairies from North Carolina, Ryan had his ears perked up, receiving everything from local conversation, to outer space noise.


Somewhere along the way, Lon came in. I talked to him for a while. I turned back around to see Ryan and Frank arguing. Ryan was calm but firm in his voice. Frank's eyebrows were raised in defense. I couldn't tell what was going on. I turned back to keep talking with Lon about Texas and how Texans can party so hard, but if you live there you have to tolerate country music. Rob tapped me on the shoulder. I paid my tab. I looked over to Ryan. He was quiet and staring off into space. "Oh lord," I thought.

Rob spoke, "We need to leave before he spills blood." Ryan didn't batt a lash.



The three R's (Rob, Ryan, and Ryan) left the bar. Ryan stopped walking halfway through the lot and yelled at me. "Ryan, do you promise me you will never come here again? And if you ever convince me to come back to this hell hole, I will never speak to you again! I'm serious." And he was, he really was. I told him yes, wholeheartedly. We got in the car and closed the doors.



"Frank is playing both sides of the field. He was down there at the other end of the bar talking shit. I know he was talking shit," he started, "He said something to them and made a hand gesture, then Naomi and Jason both looked down at us at the same time." Ryan was livid. "You know how I know? because when Naomi and Jason looked at us and saw that I saw, Fushia was right there and she just put her hand over her mouth." Okay, so she put her hand over her mouth. She knew it wasn't right, but Ryan went on to explain something I never knew. "Do you know what that means when someone puts their hand over their mouth like that?" He didn't give me a chance to respond. "Back in the 1990's, if you had a social alliance or friendship with anyone and you heard someone talkin' shit, you put your hand over your mouth as a sign that said, 'they're talking shit'."



We're never going back. Ryan told me he'd run to the liquor store anytime I want him to. We're going to start hitting up the southside and finding a new place there. We'll start going to the Wave again. We'll go this Thursday and probably Saturday, but I don't always like that big dance bar where everyone stands and models. I want a neighborhood bar like the Pocket, where I don't have to dress nice or do my hair or worry about who will be there. There are a couple places like that in Norfolk, but it will be like having to find a new family. It's hard to do. My alliances have built up over years at the Pocket, and it's become a second home, a refuge, a place to hide away and feel loved, no matter how bad my day, week, or month had been. I love that. I will miss that. But Frank is too bitter. He's done. I'm too nice of a person to fuck over like that. He knows damn well that I'm one of his few loyal supporters.

We went to 7Eleven afterwards. Ryan bought fake flowers made of dyed feathers that looked like roses. He gave them to Rob and I. He smiled, feeling newly liberated about venting and washing his hands clean of that shit hole. We left 7Eleven's parking lot and headed next door to the Taco Bell. The "Drive Thru Open" light was illuminated in the windows but nobody answered at the box when I yelled out, "Are you serving fourth meal!?" We went to Wendy's, no luck there either. We settled for McDonalds. We ate back at Ryan's house. I left at 1:40AM and was home and sound asleep by 2AM.

I'm really sad to say that the Pocket days have come to an end. It's a sad realization that it's over. My dream may signify a death of one phase of my life, and a beginning of a new one. It's surreal though, just watching everything unfold in front of me and being completely unable to do anything about it. Just like the motorcyclist in my dream, there's nothing I can do to save him, and there's nothing I can do to save myself this time.