My Philadelphia Boy

While waiting for the Apex Bus (unfortunately not associated with the gay club) to take me back to DC from Philadelphia, 3 people ask me for directions. With two days' knowledge of the city, I can already pretend I know everything. Luckily, yes, I know exactly where Chinatown is, I know exactly where Urban Outfitters is, I know exactly where the Real World house is.

But this is weird. People never ask me for help in DC. In general, people steer clear and avoid eye contact because they fear how much they love me. But in Philadelphia, I am approachable because nobody loves me.

While I was still waiting for the Apex Bus (unfortunately not associated with the style of The North Face jacket), my beautiful boy walks up to the line and stands by me. He is one of those tall skinny ones. With a small waist and an archy back. Long legs and big feet. Conspicuous ears and long eyelashes. Big brown eyes and neatly cropped hair. He is so cute I could hug him and smile forever. His back is facing me. I am invisible to him.

I get on the bus first. I pick a seat and make sure the one next to me is clearly available. An obnoxious French couple asks if they can take my two seats in order to sit together. The French man hints that I should sit next to "the beautiful girl." The French are so obnoxious.

I sit next to the beautiful girl but I don't care about her. My beautiful boy walks on the bus. He sits diagonally behind me, the worst place possible. I can't look at him without seeming completely obvious but he has a perfect view of all my obvious physical flaws. This is not how I planned it, but the French are so obnoxious.

When we arrive in DC, I hop onto the Metro. When I turn around on the platform, he is sitting on a bench behind me. He is beautiful even in the insufficient underground light. I wonder how much longer our paths will coincide. When the train comes, he gets in a different car. That is the last I ever saw of my beautiful boy.