After taking way too long of a sabbatical, I’ve found myself back at home. I’ve been back to the Corner Pocket and have started picking back up the lifestyle of the barfly that I was once so accustomed to. I mainly attribute this to working far too many hours at The Pub and not getting off until it’s so late, the CoPo is my only option. I wasn’t going to start writing again until I witnessed something so visually disturbing I had to write it down. I can’t say I really missed the dingy place, but it does hold memories of good times, birthdays, drag shows, male dancers, and drunken moments I wish I could forget but can’t. I was at the bar last week and saw some new faces and some old ones too. The dynamic has changed there since Boyd has passed away and Frank has just about ran off all the previous regulars. I saw this mildly attractive man in his forties I would guess. He was borderline white trash with his Nascar hat on (number 88, whatever that means), old Levi jeans, a goatee, and a less-than-average smile. My friend Brad had been talking to him but suggested he may be trying to sleep with Brad’s friend that was also there. When I say Brad’s friend, I’m referring to this 400 pound monster of a drag queen (in street clothes), no makeup, a thin blonde pony tail, artsy girlish glasses, and an orange polo shirt. His teeth were horrible, and he had this bruise on his head that looked like he’d been hit by a golfball traveling at speeds in excess of 60 miles per hour. I have HEARD about chubby chasers, but never have actually seen them in action. I watched in horror as this skinny Nascar man proceeded to suck face with ‘the great pumpkin’ and bite his nipples through his polo shirt, leaving wet marks. I immediately felt ill, sucked down my Bowman’s rum and diet, and turn my head to smoke three cigarettes in rapid succession. YUCK. Some things never change I guess. The bar is a dive, I shouldn’t expect to see any limos pull up or anyone remotely attractive grace the doors. On the love front, I’ve been on several dates, none of which seem promising. I got shit faced at The Wave last Thursday for 80’s night and made out with a latino guy that I was then obligated to hang out with this past Monday. He was nice, but not what I remembered. The past two nights I’ve partied in a mobile home that is owned by one of the kitchen workers at my job. I got plastered, smoked too many cigarettes, and lost track of all time and didn’t leave til around three AM on both occasions. But aside from all that, emotionally, I’ve flat-lined. I do have a little newfound hope though. His name is Vince. He’s Puerto Rican, 28, and he’s a nuclear engineer in the Navy. He’s only been in the states for a couple years and his accent is strong. He has the most beautiful milk-chocolate colored eyes, and a smile so beautiful it could warm even the coldest of hearts. He’s optimistic, sweet, considerate. He can carry on conversation and has a way of making me feel so beautiful. I have this sense of familiarity with him and just the sound of his voice makes me feel comfortable and at-ease. It’s as if this is just the point in my life where he’s supposed to waltz in, and now that he’s here I can rest. I’ve seen pictures and he sends them to me from his phone sometimes, but he doesn’t move here until tomorrow. He’s in New York right now. It would be great if we both really hit it off. I don’t know if we’re even sexually compatible, but I told him today, “I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me. I think sometimes if you really love someone, you do things you normally wouldn’t and it just works out somehow.” He told me it’s so nice to talk to me because I’ve never brought up sex. He doesn’t drink hardly at all, which is incredible in and of itself since he’s in the Navy but I guess the Navy in New York must not be like our Navy here in Norfolk. He doesn’t like the clubs a lot. I hope it works in person. I hope we click and I just fit perfectly in his arms. That would truly be great. So Vice is at the top of my very very short list. The other guy I met recently is named AJ. He used to date an old friend of mine for a couple years. I didn’t know this until he told me. Small world. He’s got a very very nice smile too, blue eyes, and a husky build. He dresses well, and looks like he’s 24 even though he’s 31. He came with me to the first trailer park party. I got way too drunk and when I knew I had to leave, he and I talked for like half an hour while I sobered up. I was fine to drive by the time I left. He opened my car door for me, and when I sat down, he leaned in and kissed me the most innocent kiss I think I’d ever received. I didn’t expect that at all. I was really embarrassed and kept telling him how I felt so bad he had to see me like that. He was understanding and I felt like he was really going to hate me after that. Surprisingly he wants to go out for coffee sometime this week. He’s great, but I don’t know him that well. Vince, I know and feel like I’ve known forever. Vince strikes me as being the more dominant of the two. I would feel comfortable giving that alpha male role to Vince. With AJ, I feel like he’s still capable of filling the role of what I want in a partner, but something tells me that it wouldn’t work out. I think it could, but with AJ, it would take a lot of time building a foundation together and growing slowly. That’s how it should work ideally anyways, but I feel like Vince is the ready-made husband. He’s already in a good job, he’s responsible, and he makes me feel sexy. Only time will tell really. I wish I knew how my story ended. It would sure make me feel better. I wish I knew when I could stop and relax. I want to know what happens next so maybe I’ll stop stressing so much all the damn time. After I get out of class today I’m going home to take a much needed nap. I’m tired from partying the past two nights in a row. If I have to drink with Brandon from work one more time and sing Whitney Houston and Tina Turner and have to put on one more dance review in public from a bar-stool I’m going to pass out. My grandparents had their 57th wedding anniversary this week. It’s so beautiful to see how far their love has carried them and how it has stayed alive after so many years. I told my grandmother, “I hope one day I make it to 57 years with someone.” She told me, “I hope you do too.” She smiled at me and my heart broke. I know I won’t. I never will. Never will.
