What Happens in Salisbury, Stays in Salisbury

As we stood at the side of the beach house in pitch black and silence, Average Brown Quarter-Asian and I searched desperately for something sympathetic to say. Even in total darkness, I could see the tears in Tall Blonde Alcoholic's eyes and I wanted to hug him and reassure him and take off his pants.

But as much as he was shaken by what he was revealing, I was shocked by what I was hearing and found myself unable to provide any sort of meaningful words of support aside from, "It's cool man, you're cool." Because even though I've suspected Tall Blonde Alcoholic to be gay for at least two years now, (and though my gaydar has yet to fail me), there is nothing quite like the bombshell of hearing somebody say, "I am gay," or in this case, "I'm not exactly straight."

So while Average Brown Quarter-Asian stood there, quietly interpreting his statement and considering her options, I too weighed in on what this could possibly mean. I thought to ask, "So on the Kinsey scale of 0 to 6, where would you place yourself," or "If I were naked in a room and Megan Fox was naked in the same room, what would you do?" But in an effort to remain sensitive, I refrained.

And after a sufficient period of awkward silence, Tall Blonde Alcoholic said, "I understand if you hate me and don't want to be my friend anymore." At this point, Average Brown Quarter-Asian and I jumped in with a chorus of "NOOOOO" and "Are you kidding?" Because all in all, Tall Blonde Alcoholic played this well. He picked all the right words to finally make me think I have a chance and make Average Brown Quarter-Asian believe there is hope for her too.

So as Tall Blonde Alcoholic continued by telling us how much it kills him to be different and judged by everyone, (and I pretended that this was the first time I've considered such foreign concepts), I noticed Average Brown Quarter-Asian inching closer and closer to him, trying to offer emotional but mostly physical support. And at that point, I knew that the race was far from over.

And all I can remember thinking was, "This sobbing mess of a boy will be mine if it's the last thing I do."

Salisbury Je T'aime

When Average Brown Quarter-Asian invited me to her friend's beach house in Salisbury for the weekend, I was extremely hesitant about going. I am not very close with her group of friends and I live in constant fear of being judged by strangers. Also, if I got into a huge fight with somebody there I would have nowhere to go and I would still have to drive back with them for 3 hours at the end of the weekend. Also, I hate using other people's showers and sleeping on the floor.

But I decided to go because Tall Blonde Alcoholic was going and one weekend alone with Average Brown Quarter-Asian would have given her an insurmountable lead in the race for his affection.

The first night we were there, there was a party in the beach house. I met an impossibly attractive club lacrosse player with an incredible body and a gorgeous face. While trying to come up with ideas to talk him out of his compression shorts, I noticed that one girl had started grinding her ass against Tall Blonde Alcoholic and he kept on backing away. A few minutes later, the girl came to me and asked me what was wrong with Tall Blonde Alcoholic. I laughed and said I didn't know. She said, "maybe he is gay." I laughed again and said, "maybe he is." I looked over at him and he was pretty much standing next to us and he probably heard the entire thing.

For the next hour he stood in the corner of the room and would not stop downing beers and taking shots of vodka. I couldn't decide if he was upset about what I said, the slutty girl who tried to dance with him, or the lab report he had to finish by Monday. Average Brown Quarter-Asian and I tried to get him to stop and ask him what was bothering him but he wasn't listening to either of us.

We went into the next room to discuss strategies of getting him away from the alcohol before he killed himself. But after a few minutes, he came into the room and told us to both come outside with him because he needed to talk to us.

He brought us to the side of the house and said,

"I want you to know that you two are my best friends. And it's probably already obvious but, I'm not exactly straight."

And all I can remember thinking was, "Thank God I came to Salisbury."

Marketing Is Gay

In BMGT451, there is a brief section in one chapter about marketing strategies for attracting gay people. Note, this is for attracting gay people and not for attractive gay people. And though these nuances turn me off initially, and though I am really only interested in attracting attractive gay people, the ensuing class discussion is somewhat exhilarating and it makes me feel alive again.

First of all, I love being in a small classroom when a professor brings up anything gay. Because all the people that are chatting and texting suddenly stop. Everyone gets a sullen look on their face like somebody they knew but didn't love has died. And they all pay as much attention as they can to something they don't care about but not as much attention as they would pay to an episode of The Hills. And this is all because nobody wants to be "the jerk" that hates on "the gays" in public. Though inwardly, most of these people know that they are the jerks that hate in the privacy of their own homes. Dorms.

And it's also fun because I feel like a gay spy, infiltrating a secret meeting for straight people to discuss our strange behavior. I take notes on all their strategies to overcome us and sell us things we don't need like his & her towels and marriage license frames. I will take these notes to Dustin Lance Black and he will try to make a movie out of it if he can stop having trashy yet well-documented sex.

So the professor says:

"It seems as though gay people respond positively to ads aimed explicitly towards heterosexuals but heterosexuals respond negatively to ads specifically for gays."

Excuse me, we prefer to be called sexually challenged.

"Gay people do not take offense when an advertisement features a heterosexual couple but heterosexual people are turned off by advertisements featuring a gay couple."

I don't know about you, but ads featuring straight people make me want to vomit off the Empire State Building and watch as it kills somebody on the sidewalk. And the only gay people that don't vom at the sight of hetero happiness are too busy focusing on the shirtless man in the ads to even notice that there is a woman present.

The discussion ended shortly thereafter because the business school prefers not to hide, nor to flaunt gays. And when addressing gays, it's important not to dwell because gays are a niche market that nobody but Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia wants to tap anyway. So these brief sessions end up being meaningless. The hungover white boys learn nothing about tolerance and the importance of tight-fitting jeans. The materialistic girls still mistakenly think that gays are nothing more than shopping buddies and that they themselves look good in black tights.

But at the same time, their shallow understanding is a blessing because they fail to crack any of the codes and learn any of the secrets of gay people. And even though today's college kids are well aware that gay people exist in the world, they will never truly understand them. us. me.

It's Like An Episode of The Bachelor

After running some errands this afternoon I came back to my apartment and was about to fall asleep when Tall Blonde Alcoholic called me and asked if he could come over to hang out. I immediately pried myself out of bed to get ready so that I didn't look like a complete monster when he got here.

We spent a few hours drinking beer, eating popcorn, and watching Behind the Music: Pink while we sat next to each other on the couch. We were close enough for me to smell his body, admire his tight fitting kakhis, and send my heart beating. But not close enough to feel satisfied.

Average Brown Quarter-Asian comes to my apartment too, mostly because she knows Tall Blonde Alcoholic is there. We take tequila shots. For them, it's typical college fun. For me, this marks the beginning of a substance abuse pattern.

After the first shot, Average Brown Quarter-Asian feels as though she can blame her behavior on the alcohol. So she proceeds to throw herself on Tall Blonde Alcoholic. She touches his arms and chest repeatedly. Not enough to feel satisfied, but enough to send her heart beating. At the end of the night, Tall Blonde Alcoholic is lying on the floor of my apartment and Average Brown Quarter-Asian is sitting next to him, equally smashed, stroking his hair. This is fun for me.

Average Brown Quarter-Asian gets a call from one of her friends asking her to come to a party. It's already 4am and she asks if we would want to go with her or would rather just go to sleep. Tall Blonde Alcoholic gets up off the ground and says to me, "I'm only going if you are going." I decide not to go.

He asks me to walk him back to his dorm. I wasn't sure if this was an invitation to make out in his dorm room or if he was just being annoying, so I said no. He then asks if he can sleep in my apartment for the night. He says it like a joke and I don't want to seem like an eager homo so I say no to that too. I find out later that he goes back to the party that Average Brown Quarter-Asian went to. This is fun for me.

At this point, Average Brown Quarter-Asian and I are in direct competition for Tall Blonde Alcoholic's affection. Obviously she has the upper hand, because it is more acceptable for her to force herself on him in public places in various states of undress.

One Time, On Manhunt

There are some words that you should never begin a story with.

One time, on manhunt, there was this guy. We will call him dcrunner103, because I have no obligation to protect the identity of idiots.

So dcrunner103 sends me the following message:

"hey man, hit me up on a messenger and we can talk. I'm at ___ on aim, ___ on yahoo.

later"

First, I am excited because he starts the conversation with "hey man, hit me up...". And if this isn't a hetero-acting, football-loving, dick-swinging, white boy, I don't really know anything anymore.

Second, I am excited because he suggests that we talk. This means that he loves my profile/personality and wants to know more about me. And once we share our feelings, aspirations, and food allergies, he will tell me that I am his soul mate.

Third, from what I could derive from his 1-centimeter big picture, he had abs.

But.

When I message him, he says, "who is this? lol"

So after I assured myself I wasn't talking to a 12 year old boy, I reminded him who I was and showed him the message he sent me.

"Haha, well that was a long time ago."

Yeah. Like 20 minutes.

And then he immediately asked me, "So what are you looking for?"

I gently reminded him that my profile says I am looking for a husband, trying to be funny and cute.

"Dude i read a lot of profiles, i dont have it open anymore"

And at this point, I am trying to grapple with the idea that this "dude" messaged me wanting to "talk" but didn't bother to remember who I was or anything about me. So I wondered for a while if he was one of the automated computer people or just retarded.

And then I realized he was just like every other guy on manhunt. And I gave up on him. And everyone else.

Love, In All The Wrong Places

By pure coincidence, my old roommate and the Tall Blond Alcoholic live in the same hall in rooms across from each other. God likes to torment me in this way and the only way I survive is by believing that He will pay me back in a big way. This is the old roommate who finds me repulsively unattractive but manages to get me into his bed every other night. This is the Tall Blond Alcoholic that I suspect might be gay and that I harbor lonely-gay-boy feelings for. Feelings that, by definition, should not be taken too seriously.

I live halfway across campus and am completely unaware of what goes on between the two of them in that hall. Sometimes, when I have nothing better to think about, I seethe over the idea that they are probably eating dinner together, working on homework together, or having casual and surreptitious sex.

Last time I hooked up with my old roommate, I accidentally left my shirt in his room. Since I was watching Top Chef in the Tall Blond Alcoholic's room today, I asked him if I could walk across the hall and get my shirt back. He told me to wait in the bathroom for him to hand me the shirt because people in the hall already suspect that I am gay and he doesn't want to be seen.

Several things bother me about what he said.

1) The fact that they suspect me.

2) The fact that they suspect me and not him.

3) The fact that he is embarrassed to be seen with me.

4) I am not even gay.

It is hurtful that my old roommate will use me to get off but can just discard me to protect his reputation. A reputation that is not that great to begin with, which only adds insult to my injuries. And I'm disappointed that he threw me under the bus instead of manning up and being true to himself. Though I'm not really one to talk.

So I left the room of the boy who will never open up to me to pick up my shirt in the bathroom from the boy who will never appreciate me. And I prayed to God that He can pay me back by giving me the strength to stay the hell away from this hall.