A big weekend, full frontal and much learnt about the art eating dick. A Faux (pas) date with a hot hot hot charmer who disses and misses, A crippling Kegger & My first time in the back seat of his range rover.
I saw Marissa at Mariev’s grad show and she told me she reads my blog, and Miriam said the same, so my audience has now doubled!!! and i feel special, like a small twinkling star, or maybe just star dust… regardless I want to thank the 4 of you for all your continued support, I would have never made it this far without you guys, or gals rather, propping me up.
The last year has been pretty demoralizing for me, no doubt this is to be expected when someone who has spent the last 18 years of his or her life in one form or another of school, & they finds themselves on the outside with a piece of paper that says: "thank you for paying your tuition." Even more so if they take the first job they can get their hands on, naively believing that it will benefit them in more ways than just massive discounts on luxurious calf skins. So when I received my invitation to yet another solo show by Marissa Portolese, i knew i would have to do something drastic to enable me to hold my head up high in front of my formers peers and profs and pretend all of the shitty things i’ve done this year never happened, make believe all the potential I’ve squandered has actually been safely stowed in the overhead compartment, and really feel like all of those nights at home alone weren’t actually lonely.
I figured the easiest way to do all of this without risking total humiliation (if indeed it was revealed that i am a pathetic asshole) was to ask my insanely hot friend Zach to be my stand in Boyfriend.
It was a fool proof plan and the pay off would be like double happiness, saving face in front of everyone, and sucking face with a mad hottie. I asked Zach to kanoodle me, kiss me and whatnot if ever he heard someone asking me how things in my life were going, somehow puppy love can excuse poor manners. Thank God for that cause Zach being the fearless type he is, dissed GV Cadios to her face calling her boots (motorcycle boots i had just complimented) "Pas mal cochon", I dont think he meant it to be mean but cheeky indeed, she was very classy and pretended she hadn’t heard him and i tugged him by his massive rocksolid arm into the other room like all of this time in public had made me famished for his affection.
The payoff ended when the clock struck eleven, or rather when his phone rang. After the success of our performance as a loving couple in the gallery (trois point, for anyone whose interested in seeing Marissa’s show) We decided to take to the diner down the street. I cozied up in his armpit as we ate cheeseburgers and drank diet coke, and briefly fell for the deception i was attempting to pull off. nestled in to his torso, I went from hero to zero in about 45 seconds, as Zach made plans over his new cellular (thanks a bunch Pedro!) to meet some other boy at 11:00, and like that i was left behind, as will katie holms soon enough, while my confidence inspiring charming and handsome boyfriend was off to inspire something else in someone else.
Later that night i met up with Julie and my cousin Elissa 
to go to a party thrown by some of the kids she grew up with. I was imagining a younger crowd as I am two years Elissa’s senior, but other than that had absolutely no idea what to expect, aside from the obvious, I would certainly be the only out and out homo, which of course I was. P.S. to anyone who thinks I sound like a whiner saying that I just want to say; you’ll never know what it feels like to be the only one, until you are… So the Party was a Keg party, It reminded me of an American movie, the girls who were’nt video tape calliber floosies were being pretty icy. The boys were all pretty hammered (i cut myself off early cause all the testosterone in the atmosphere was already clouding my judgment) Mostly the guys were fun and funny, but almost every single one would shout some (hostile) command at some other guy who of course would reply in kind, oh and they spit on the floor.
One guy in particular made an impression on me, Lucky. Lucky was a really nice talkative type. he liked my sister Julie somethin fierce and would no doubt have kept talking until she left, infact he did just that. I witnessed him slip down a flight of stairs, which is pretty embarrassing and at a kegger usually an indication that someone has taken one too many a trip to the ‘brew fountain’, but somehow i overlooked both the stair incident and the fact that Lucky had a harsh case of the stutters and ticks of the body often associated with turrets syndrome. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and believing that he, like me, was lucid and would remember our chats which ranged from topics as divers as cultural perceptions of athletes to synapses and it’s role in linguistics (he studying all sorts of bio-chemical shit at western) and thought whatever syndrome he called home was the reason he spoke without using conjunctions and used terms like ‘macaroniously.’ I even got a soft spot in my heart for all of his less fidgety friends who in my mind had befriended ‘the cripple’ in their small hometown as children risking the taunting jeers of older boys in the playground, who didn’t understand why Lucky couldn’t keep still or form a complete sentence. On our way home from the party I mentioned to Elissa that I thought Lucky was pretty cool, and wondered how he managed to play Hokey, as he had mentioned it was one of his passions outside of bio-chemistry. Elissa was somewhat confused by my question, and unsure what exactly i expected her to answer responded: "the same way everyone else does…" I felt like an asshole, being so impressed that ‘the cripple’ could not only get out of bed everyday, but also managed to defy every law of common sense and play hockey. I explained to Elissa that i was just curious as to how good he was on a hockey team considering his constant and continuous involuntary spasms. "Oh well I’ve never seen him play hockey drunk, so it’s not usually a problem for him" So it turned out that Lucky was in fact not ‘the cripple’ and was just a ‘boy gone wild’. I apparently was not drunk enough for it to occur to me that i could use his vulnerable state to get him to expose some flesh and maybe some more for my ‘only gay guy in the house’ perversions. I remember why i haven’t been to a kegger since highschool, and why artfags are good to have at parties (they swing both ways until they turn 30)
And finally…. For the first time ever, i had sex in the backseat of a car. I went with Emily, Edward & Julie to the W hotel following a work party to celebrate Emily’s departure for Japan to become an international Model superstar. So i was busting a move with julie, sippin on a rose martini, thinkin i was the shit, until my eyes met those of one of my exes, at which point i lost whatever kind of composure i thought i had and degenerated to a wrinkled homo laughing in snorts, the before picture on jenny jones’ makeover special. i tried some crafty eye gestures from across the room saying what as far as I was concerned was unmistakably international body language for " meet me in the mens room, and i’ll give you the time of your life"
I waited in the bathroom until the hostile stares from the men using the urinals got to uncomfortable for me to bare. I returned to the bar frustrated and even hornier, the urinal guys got me all hot. so i went right up to him and asked where the hell he had been, he looked puzzled and was like, "oh you wanna fuck? let’s go to my car" like a song from the heavens, the words i had waited so long to hear were finally being spoken and to me no less.
So we drove around old montreal one hand in the others pants, until we found the perfect parking lot and then we rocked that range rover (incidentally his older brother’s, which made me all the happier cause i think his brother is a dick, and i gizzed on the leather interior of his backseat) like a megadeath show in the suburbs.
So I guess the lessons i’ve learned are as follows,
1. Pretending you have a hot boyfriend so people will think your cool will only make you feel like a shitstain if your fake man fakes it and then makes it with someone else
2. Don’t trust anyone or anything when drinking is involved, and aside from the obvious points of interest (i.e. nubile bodies and lack of self esteem) young straight guys are about as useless as a bucket of foreskin.
3. Not having had sex in the backseat of a car in highschool, which was my main concern back then, turned out for the best, cause if you’re gonna fuck in a car that car had better be a luxury 4 wheel drive type deal with a cd player and acclimatized air.
bga.
