Friday, July 3, 2009
Last night was a bad night. I was in a bad way. My BAC was .00 and I still haven’t smoked anything since mid-May. And no, that’s not why I was in a bad way. Last summer I was afraid to leave Rockville, and this summer I’m afraid to stay here any longer. I miss everything about Athens, from the parade of drunkards on Court St. literally ever night to the brick streets and genuine masonry in the buildings. Rockville is like one of those dull, depressing small towns you see in those coming-of-age stories, except they’ve dressed it up real pretty in tree lined streets and prefab, generic-European-looking storefronts in “Rockville Town Square”, about four square blocks of overpriced food and stores full of things nobody wants to buy. The library’s pretty nice, though.
Most of what I miss about Athens though is definitely my friends. That fact became alarmingly clear when, a little while ago, one of them drunk-dialed me. It didn’t even matter that he had way too much. Just hearing his voice made be so unbelievably happy. A week removed and I still can’t put it into words. And that caught me a bit off guard; I’ve spoken on the phone with other friends and while I was glad to hear from them, I wasn’t anywhere near that happy. Then again, this guy and I have a bit of history. We’ve only really known each other for a couple of months now, but for two gay men who aren’t an item we spent a lot of time together. A lot of flirtatious time. Now, I like it as much as the next guy but I had no idea it would lead to this. From the very beginning I thought my attraction to him would remain a physical one and nothing more. Sure enough, as time went on I thought about him more and more. Just how much I miss him hit me in the face again last night, with a simple question prompted by a facebook status: “what’s wrong lil lumpkin?”
I told him everything. Without names. I don’t know what I was thinking, I was so tired and I didn’t know what to do. But I told him everything. Throughout the whole conversation, he didn’t even pick up that I was talking about him. But the one word I didn’t want to hear out of the five hundred thousand in the English language did surface, several times: love. He said it, not me. There’s so much about this I’m clueless to. How did something like this gain so much power over me, am I right to be telling anyone, am I worrying over nothing, do I really like him this much, why/how am I writing this post, did I just miss a golden opportunity to come out to my mother, why did I tell him specifically who I–in his words–am in love with. I didn’t want to hear that word but it so perfectly sums up what I’ve been feeling. And they call this shit beautiful.
Like a fatass crab molting its shell, I’ve never felt so vulnerable in my life; not necessarily expecting but certainly being afraid of getting boiled, gutted, and eaten. He said he wasn’t weirded out–“in fact I’m flattered.”–but of course that doesn’t satisfy my mind.
“He’s just saying that,” my brain goes.
“Please shut the fuck up,” I respond, “this is all your goddamn fault.”
“At least he didn’t brutally shoot me down, or just stop talking to me..”
“I swear to fucking god, if you don’t hush the fuck up right fucking now–” Silence, for a second anyway.
“‘Maybe when school starts’? I mean, I can’t expect him to promise to wait; that’s basically a long distance relationship and it’s unfair to expect that out of him. I don’t even want that.”
“Okay so he didn’t outright reject you. He’s just letting you down easy, fall quarter will turn into ‘sometime later maybe’ and we both know that’ll never come. You’ll be lucky to remain friends.”
You probably find yourself sitting there, thinking “what has this boy gotten himself into?” Is it love or is it just, uh, confusion? As soon as I know I’ll clue you in.