Welcome
The boy from Philly came into town on Thursday. I woke up early Thursday morning because I offered to meet him at the airport since he's never been to Chicago before. I even made him a sign because I thought it would be funny. And then after I paid the train fare and sat waiting for the orange line for ten minutes I got a call from him saying that he's already here and he told me the wrong arrival time. So I threw the sign out and went home for a while and read an old issue of GQ.
Lets backtrack and introduce the boy from Philly. I met Philly boy about six months ago online while I was back home for break and we've been talking ever since. For the longest time he's been asking if he could crash at my place in May. Then, over the course of a month the conversation escallated from crashing at my place to our sexual tastes and sleeping in the same bed. Needless to say, I've developed a bit of a stupid internet crush on Philly boy.
So, he finally arrives on the train and I buy him breakfast and he goes to stay with another friend he has in town for a few days, the plan was he'd crash here on Sunday and I'd make him dinner. So friday passed, I hung around IML a bit and realized that my alcohol tolerance is not on par with some of those men, partied myself out and spent most of saturday recovering. Saturday night I went to PF Changs with some friends and had a lovely time. It made me remember having friends, going out to eat, just generally enjoying life. It made me stop caring about men for a little while, which is apparently a very, very good thing.
And Sunday morning arrives, the big day is here. I start planning dinner and cleaning and getting really excited to sleep in the same bed as the boy from Philly. The lack of contact, at this point, seems to have escalated the stupid crush greatly. I washed all the linens and folded things, bleached things, used windex on things. I did the things you do when someone special is coming over. He called early in the morning saying he was just down the street and I got excited until I realized what that meant, it meant that he slept with someone else last night. Like a child in a candy store. He just went right for it. I brushed it off though and told him to just call me when he wanted dinner. So I did some more cleaning, set up the table to look nice, possibly romanitc even. I thawed the beef.
Then the phonecall comes. THAT phonecall from THAT man, that one kind of man that exists in the world, that man that knows how to hit you right in the kisser with just a sentence.
"Hey Zack, I think I'm going to just hang here tonight, I've just made so many friends and I want to stay here a bit more so how about we just meet for breakfast tomorrow."
You mean to tell me you want me to enjoy an after sex breakfast with me when I didn't partake in any of the sex? You mean you want to me to just make myself available so on the off chance that you can't find a warm bed and a hot dick for the night you'll have a place to crash? You mean to tell me you're just like every other man in this city and you only want to follow your dick? You mean I'm the biggest most pathetic doormat on Earth? Of course I didn't say any of this. What I said was:
"Fine, do what you want, don't let me ruin the party."
The boy from Philly, who I assumed shrugged his shoulders at this point, said, "Okay."
I went to the museum and sat in front of a modernist painting and felt sorry for myself. I'm not even going to get fifty dollars out of this one.
Philly boy, reconsidering the tone in my voice called me back and said fuck it he felt like and ass and wanted to come have dinner. Now, I know my emotions often make me do foolish things, but honey I was not born yesterday. I know that he just wants a free dinner and to make sure he still has a place to stay tomorrow. I know he could not be less interested in spending time with me, quiet, under legal drinking age, not extroverted, own a pair of doc martens but only because they go with my H&M suspenders, scrawny, and sentimental it seems. But now I'm supposed to feed you so you can grow big and strong and make lots of sperm and give it to other men.
Let me remind you at this point that I am writing very closely to my mindset at the time, irrational and exaggerated. Everything looks like a big deal, when basically it just his first time in chicago and he wants to party and meet people.
So I tell him to come get dinner and he tells me about the guys he's tricked with and this boy Dustin that he's spending all of his time with. And at this point the only thing going through my mind is, "Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off." I make my special meat sauce faster than I've ever made it before. The beef may have been a bit undercooked and the potatoes a little hard and everything was just lukehot. I was subconsciuosly trying to give him food poisoning, perhaps, or I just wanted him the hell out of my kitchen. He told me about going to the gay porn awards and winning all this free VIP stuff because he's just. so. personable. Then he took off, but not before checking to make sure we were still on for lunch tomorrow, which I will probably pay for.
The museum was closed. The park was closed. My heart and all surrounding roads were closed. It was after dark and I went on a walk down to the lake. And even Lake Michigan didn't seem big enough to contain this so I went to that place in the west loop where old train tracks are stacked skyward and I climbed on top of the machinery that was yellow and at the top of my lungs I yelled fuck. I can't believe I agreed to meet him for breakfast after he left his big old leather boot print on my face.
That's the last time I wash my linens for someone I met online.
Lets backtrack and introduce the boy from Philly. I met Philly boy about six months ago online while I was back home for break and we've been talking ever since. For the longest time he's been asking if he could crash at my place in May. Then, over the course of a month the conversation escallated from crashing at my place to our sexual tastes and sleeping in the same bed. Needless to say, I've developed a bit of a stupid internet crush on Philly boy.
So, he finally arrives on the train and I buy him breakfast and he goes to stay with another friend he has in town for a few days, the plan was he'd crash here on Sunday and I'd make him dinner. So friday passed, I hung around IML a bit and realized that my alcohol tolerance is not on par with some of those men, partied myself out and spent most of saturday recovering. Saturday night I went to PF Changs with some friends and had a lovely time. It made me remember having friends, going out to eat, just generally enjoying life. It made me stop caring about men for a little while, which is apparently a very, very good thing.
And Sunday morning arrives, the big day is here. I start planning dinner and cleaning and getting really excited to sleep in the same bed as the boy from Philly. The lack of contact, at this point, seems to have escalated the stupid crush greatly. I washed all the linens and folded things, bleached things, used windex on things. I did the things you do when someone special is coming over. He called early in the morning saying he was just down the street and I got excited until I realized what that meant, it meant that he slept with someone else last night. Like a child in a candy store. He just went right for it. I brushed it off though and told him to just call me when he wanted dinner. So I did some more cleaning, set up the table to look nice, possibly romanitc even. I thawed the beef.
Then the phonecall comes. THAT phonecall from THAT man, that one kind of man that exists in the world, that man that knows how to hit you right in the kisser with just a sentence.
"Hey Zack, I think I'm going to just hang here tonight, I've just made so many friends and I want to stay here a bit more so how about we just meet for breakfast tomorrow."
You mean to tell me you want me to enjoy an after sex breakfast with me when I didn't partake in any of the sex? You mean you want to me to just make myself available so on the off chance that you can't find a warm bed and a hot dick for the night you'll have a place to crash? You mean to tell me you're just like every other man in this city and you only want to follow your dick? You mean I'm the biggest most pathetic doormat on Earth? Of course I didn't say any of this. What I said was:
"Fine, do what you want, don't let me ruin the party."
The boy from Philly, who I assumed shrugged his shoulders at this point, said, "Okay."
I went to the museum and sat in front of a modernist painting and felt sorry for myself. I'm not even going to get fifty dollars out of this one.
Philly boy, reconsidering the tone in my voice called me back and said fuck it he felt like and ass and wanted to come have dinner. Now, I know my emotions often make me do foolish things, but honey I was not born yesterday. I know that he just wants a free dinner and to make sure he still has a place to stay tomorrow. I know he could not be less interested in spending time with me, quiet, under legal drinking age, not extroverted, own a pair of doc martens but only because they go with my H&M suspenders, scrawny, and sentimental it seems. But now I'm supposed to feed you so you can grow big and strong and make lots of sperm and give it to other men.
Let me remind you at this point that I am writing very closely to my mindset at the time, irrational and exaggerated. Everything looks like a big deal, when basically it just his first time in chicago and he wants to party and meet people.
So I tell him to come get dinner and he tells me about the guys he's tricked with and this boy Dustin that he's spending all of his time with. And at this point the only thing going through my mind is, "Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off." I make my special meat sauce faster than I've ever made it before. The beef may have been a bit undercooked and the potatoes a little hard and everything was just lukehot. I was subconsciuosly trying to give him food poisoning, perhaps, or I just wanted him the hell out of my kitchen. He told me about going to the gay porn awards and winning all this free VIP stuff because he's just. so. personable. Then he took off, but not before checking to make sure we were still on for lunch tomorrow, which I will probably pay for.
The museum was closed. The park was closed. My heart and all surrounding roads were closed. It was after dark and I went on a walk down to the lake. And even Lake Michigan didn't seem big enough to contain this so I went to that place in the west loop where old train tracks are stacked skyward and I climbed on top of the machinery that was yellow and at the top of my lungs I yelled fuck. I can't believe I agreed to meet him for breakfast after he left his big old leather boot print on my face.
That's the last time I wash my linens for someone I met online.