On Blake
On second thought, perhaps I should change the title of this post; both because it's suggestive, and because that suggestion is inaccurate.
I've been avoiding talking about this, both on and off the blog. Chaz isn't really speaking to me right now, and somehow he knows when it's me knocking on his door (though, I suppose that Alfonzo has never touched Chaz's door, and Vlad is somewhere doing his mysterious thing, so...). I've caught flak for using the blog in personal conflicts, but this is my only way through that door.
In my defense, Blake instigated everything. Friday night, Chaz and Blake turned in early to gather strength for a long Saturday of party-hopping. I, with nowhere to go and no plans to make plans, was vegging out on the couch in front of the TV. I don't want anyone to get the impression that I enjoy Comedy Central (except Drawn Together, which is hilarious), but the state of modern late-night cable television is pretty sad. I don't know why Cartoon Network thinks that anyone wants to watch Billy and Mandy, let alone in the middle of the night. Yeah, point being, I was watching stand-up comedy when Chaz's door opened. Blake wandered out and into the bathroom.
He's cute, okay? His hair goes down to his chin, and he was wearing a dirty old t-shirt and boxers, and maybe it just was the lighting and the way the shadows fall across his face, but I was enchanted. Much more interesting than TV, I watched him leave the bathroom and expected him to wander back to Chaz's room. Isn't it strange how you can focus all of your attention on someone, and not even notice that they're looking back at you?
He sat down on the other side of the couch and asked me why I was up so late. I told him there was no reason to be asleep until I fell there. He told me that from the few minutes he'd been exposed to me, he'd gathered that I seem pretty depressed. I told him that I wasn't surprised. And then he asked if I was gay.
Maybe it's the hair, or maybe it was my IGBALTQ t-shirt, or maybe I just put the vibe out stronger than I know. I told him that I am bisexual, but that I'm experiencing an unwelcome early retirement. He scoffed at this, swearing that I am too cute to be so single. I shrugged, and he moved to the middle of the couch.
"I think I know what your problem is. You'll never attract anyone if you walk around with a black cloud over your head. Finding people is half what comes naturally, and half presentation. Just put a little more heart into your performance, and I'm sure things will turn around for you." I thanked him for the advice, and he went back to bed.
Saturday night at 11 p.m., there came a knock at my door. It was Blake. He ditched Chaz by saying he was too exhausted to keep partying, knowing that Chaz would rather die than stop drinking before 1. He asked if I was busy, and if he could come in, and then if he could kiss me; these were not questions I was prepared to say no to. His breath smelled faintly of alcohol, and I'm sure my clothes and hair smelled of weed. For the sake of discretion, I will employ a cliché and an ellipsis. One thing led to another and.....
It was a marriage of convienience, a hook-up, a one-night-stand; nothing that you aren't familiar with, Chaz. It was not some sort of premeditated attack on you, or an attempt to undermine or disrespect you in any way. We both had something that the other one wanted, and we made an exchange. I'm sorry that it upset you, but I regret nothing.
You don't know what Wash U's gay scene is like. It's the dryest wishing well in the world, around which are gathered roughly one hundred effiminate boys wishing for nothing but a confident, masculine man to come along and sweep them off their feet. I know that I've only got one foot in the grave of Wash U's gay community, but frustration and the despondance is real. If you'd been in my shoes, you'd have slept with him, too.
Again, Chaz, I'm sorry this happened in a manner that upset you. I didn't mean to hurt you over this, and I'm sorry.
-Alan
I've been avoiding talking about this, both on and off the blog. Chaz isn't really speaking to me right now, and somehow he knows when it's me knocking on his door (though, I suppose that Alfonzo has never touched Chaz's door, and Vlad is somewhere doing his mysterious thing, so...). I've caught flak for using the blog in personal conflicts, but this is my only way through that door.
In my defense, Blake instigated everything. Friday night, Chaz and Blake turned in early to gather strength for a long Saturday of party-hopping. I, with nowhere to go and no plans to make plans, was vegging out on the couch in front of the TV. I don't want anyone to get the impression that I enjoy Comedy Central (except Drawn Together, which is hilarious), but the state of modern late-night cable television is pretty sad. I don't know why Cartoon Network thinks that anyone wants to watch Billy and Mandy, let alone in the middle of the night. Yeah, point being, I was watching stand-up comedy when Chaz's door opened. Blake wandered out and into the bathroom.
He's cute, okay? His hair goes down to his chin, and he was wearing a dirty old t-shirt and boxers, and maybe it just was the lighting and the way the shadows fall across his face, but I was enchanted. Much more interesting than TV, I watched him leave the bathroom and expected him to wander back to Chaz's room. Isn't it strange how you can focus all of your attention on someone, and not even notice that they're looking back at you?
He sat down on the other side of the couch and asked me why I was up so late. I told him there was no reason to be asleep until I fell there. He told me that from the few minutes he'd been exposed to me, he'd gathered that I seem pretty depressed. I told him that I wasn't surprised. And then he asked if I was gay.
Maybe it's the hair, or maybe it was my IGBALTQ t-shirt, or maybe I just put the vibe out stronger than I know. I told him that I am bisexual, but that I'm experiencing an unwelcome early retirement. He scoffed at this, swearing that I am too cute to be so single. I shrugged, and he moved to the middle of the couch.
"I think I know what your problem is. You'll never attract anyone if you walk around with a black cloud over your head. Finding people is half what comes naturally, and half presentation. Just put a little more heart into your performance, and I'm sure things will turn around for you." I thanked him for the advice, and he went back to bed.
Saturday night at 11 p.m., there came a knock at my door. It was Blake. He ditched Chaz by saying he was too exhausted to keep partying, knowing that Chaz would rather die than stop drinking before 1. He asked if I was busy, and if he could come in, and then if he could kiss me; these were not questions I was prepared to say no to. His breath smelled faintly of alcohol, and I'm sure my clothes and hair smelled of weed. For the sake of discretion, I will employ a cliché and an ellipsis. One thing led to another and.....
It was a marriage of convienience, a hook-up, a one-night-stand; nothing that you aren't familiar with, Chaz. It was not some sort of premeditated attack on you, or an attempt to undermine or disrespect you in any way. We both had something that the other one wanted, and we made an exchange. I'm sorry that it upset you, but I regret nothing.
You don't know what Wash U's gay scene is like. It's the dryest wishing well in the world, around which are gathered roughly one hundred effiminate boys wishing for nothing but a confident, masculine man to come along and sweep them off their feet. I know that I've only got one foot in the grave of Wash U's gay community, but frustration and the despondance is real. If you'd been in my shoes, you'd have slept with him, too.
Again, Chaz, I'm sorry this happened in a manner that upset you. I didn't mean to hurt you over this, and I'm sorry.
-Alan
posted by Alan Orlanski at 2:58 PM
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