Wednesday, August 01, 2012

But it feels like flying

It's getting close to two, I ask Billy if he can get me into the Loft and he looks at me like I'm crazy. He says it's Friday.

Friday's straight night, but I don't care. So what, I say. He says it's scary, you'll get beat up. I say honey, it's not that scary. He says: I might get in trouble. The lights are coming up and Bobby's pulling Abby along, Sean is following. Bobby says: My husband has a BIG dick. And she’s grabbing Abby's crotch while Abby mumbles and shakes her head like she's in a bad dream. They file outside and I look for Calvin. He runs up and says you want to go to an after-hours, I say where? He says upstairs, I say sure—I'll be outside.

I go outside and it's freezing but nice, Abby leans over to me and hugs me. Bobby says you need a ride? I say no, I guess I'm going to an afterhours with Calvin. Bobby smirks and I roll my eyes.

Calvin comes out with two South End tragedies, the Brooks Brothers sisters or something. The party is literally upstairs from the Eagle, which is funny, but we go inside and of course it's some bougie hellhole, all sorts of hors d'oeuvres on a tray, white frilly curtains, plush department store sofas, and a bunch of scary South End gays.

I'm too wired. Calvin goes in the other room with one of the guys who brought us and I'm stuck talking to the only queen who will acknowledge that I'm there. I'm crashing hard, just like that, and I can't stand the idea of another drink. I try to relax but I keep thinking why am I here, why am I here?

I pour myself a cocktail, but yuck it tastes gross. Some queen with too much cologne is telling a story about how he went to this after-work party and he thought it was just going to be gay guys, but then this chick walks in and he looked over and said: Who brought the fish? Everyone's cackling and I feel like I'm going to scream so I go in the bathroom. Run hot water over my hands and sip at the cocktail and stare at myself in the mirror, I look okay but I feel worn out. I just want to lie down. I stare at myself for a while, fix my hair so it looks like feathers again, go back into the other room.

Where the fuck is Calvin. I sit down and stare into space. Everyone around me is talking about this restaurant and that party and oh the shoes I got the other day at Nieman's and can you believe what happened to bla bla bla at bla bla bla and I can't wait until summer, P-town and what are you going to wear? The whole room smells like cologne and I sip at my empty cocktail like it's giving me life.

Some guy wants to know how I got to this party—well, they all want to know that, but one guy asks and I say my friend Calvin who's in the other room. Someone says oh the cute one with blond hair, is that your boyfriend? I say what? I mean no, he's not my boyfriend.

Finally the bedroom door opens and there's Calvin—he stumbles out looking like a zombie, collapses on the sofa next to me. I say what'd you do in there and he says I don't know, I did a bump and then I didn't know where I was. I say oh you did a bump of K, and I'm kind of jealous.

Calvin rests and I'm suddenly talkative though who knows what the fuck I'm talking about. Then Calvin's finally ready and I'm pushing him out the door, literally—thanks—and then we're out in the cold and Calvin looks clearer. We get to Calvin's car, get inside and turn on the heat 'cause I'm freezing, didn't bring my coat. Calvin's still dazed, I say are you okay to drive? He says yeah, let's just wait a minute.

Calvin says that shit's crazy, I say yeah. He says no I mean crazy. I nod. He says I didn't know where I was and the bed and the ceiling were fighting with me. I say right. He pulls the car out of the space and we're off, I shut my eyes and think about sleep but it feels like flying.

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