The day after everyone decides to burst out of the closet in Salisbury, we avoid looking at each other in the eyes. Inwardly, I wonder if he meant what he said. I want to get him to say it sober. I want to sit on his lap. Instead,we go back to pretending we are straight. We sit far apart and hum along to Lady Gaga on the car ride back.
Several weeks after returning from Salisbury, Tall Blonde Alcoholic, Average Brown Quarter-Asian, and I get mildly/wildly intoxicated. We end up in Average Brown Quarter-Asian's dorm room. I lie horizontally on the foot of her bed and decide that it wouldn't be that bad if the sky fell down on me. Tall Blonde Alcoholic walks over to the bed and lies next to me with his head on my chest and his arm around me. And though he would have blamed it on the alcohol if I asked, I feel like the sky has indeed fallen down on me.
Over the next few days, I consider what has occurred. No doubt Average Brown Quarter-Asian is considering designs for my life. But I conclude that he is an alcoholic and probably thought I was either a pillow or an oversized bottle of spiced rum.
A week later we are both sitting on the couch in my apartment watching Chicago. I've had a few drinks and I find Renee Zellweger irresistable. So over the course of the movie, I inch closer and closer to where he is sitting. He has had a few drinks and he finds Catherine Zeta-Jones irresistable. So over the course of the movie, he forgets to inch away from where I am sitting.
I tell him it's late and that he should just sleep in my place. I then systematically talk him out of every article of clothing he is wearing. When I wake up and sober up, I think to myself while he sleeps silently, "There is no way that this has just happened." And then I think, "He is probably gay."
Over the next few weeks, the occurrence repeats itself several times. Always the same, he gets drunk, I get drunk, he wants to make out, we end up in bed together. When he wakes up from his drunken stupor, he realizes his huge mistake. And for the next excruciatingly sober hours, days, weeks, we ignore the homoerotic tension and pretend nothing is going on. He doesn't express any sober or reasonable desire to see me or be with me. I express my desire to drown myself in the Tidal Basin.
Some lessons are never learned, and this is mine. This is just further evidence that nobody on this planet is physically capable of wanting me. In which case I might as well live a life of solitude on the Moon, which incidentally has water. Ready my spaceship.
And although he really is special, out of all the silly boys, I have a feeling this one will disappoint me the most.