afterTHOT: Boi From The Loop

So after grabbing drinks with Work Wifey on a random weeknight, we started walking back toward the train.  As we turned the corner on Lake and Michigan downtown in the Chicago Loop, I locked eyes with this sexy young, black man who was walking in my direction with his brother.  We’ll call him Boi From The Loop.  I eye-flirted, of course, and then kept on toward the train with Work Wifey.  However, as we turned the corner he comes running around the building and yells at me:

“Where are you going?”

Of course I turned around and started to physically flirt at this point.  I told him I had to get my Work Wifey to the train, because I don’t let her walk by herself after we’ve been drinking.  So Boi From The Loop and I decided to exchange numbers.  After NYE, we were texting and he said he drank so much he was drunk crying.  And I totally get what drunk crying is, but in the moment I was trying to make a joke which totally came out wrong and I said something along the lines of

“I totally understand crying.  I recently broke up with The Ex of 12yrs!”

What!

The!

Fuck!

What was I thinking!  And it’s even worse because you can edit texts before you send them!  Needless to say, that was the last time I saw him!  Hahaha!  I have such a learning curve when it comes to dating!!!

afterTHOT: I Forgot My Jockstrap

So I’m finally conquering my feels and getting around to writing my first afterTHOT post. As I mentioned previously, these will be smaller posts about my experiences within the dating realm.

The first THOT Ima talk about is myself.  Early in mine and The Scientist’s “relationship,” I spent a glorious night at his place and the next day I actually got ready for work at his apartment.  So I jumped in the shower and he gave me a toothbrush.  A toothbrush, ya’ll!  That I left at his place!  This meant he wanted me to come back more often, right?!  So I’m totally not ashamed to wear the same pair of underwear two days in a row, but he was like, no borrow mine.  I’ll admit that weirded me out a bit, but it also kinda turned me on!  How could I resist borrowing a clean pair of undies from the cutest boy ever!  Well, in the midst of packing up my stuff and getting ready, I forgot my blue jockstrap (one of my fave pairs of undies) on his living room floor where I’d tossed them the night before in a throe of passion.

Later that day The Scientist’s Judies (as he refers to his friends like an old queen) came over and were chatting on his couch when he noticed my jockstrap on his shag rug.  He quickly hid it under the couch with a sweep of his foot.  And he almost got away with it too until one of his friends decided to lounge on the floor and happened to peak under the couch and recognize a pair of underwear that was not his style!  Of course they gave him a hard time for letting a trollop he barely knew walk out in his underwear.  But that’s the life of someone Independent Single and Free!

The Scientryst Pt. 2: Secret Lovers

So the first time The Scientist and I went out together in public was almost a week after meeting.  He charmingly asked me to take him for drinks via text while I was at my Associate Board Gala which was a ticketed event.  Ironically, though, we did have a free after party up the street for which I had several drink vouchers.  So I convinced him to get dressed, hop in a Lyft, and come downtown to meet me.  This is a lot for him since he’s a homebody (at least in the winter which is normal in the Windy City).  But it just so happened to be a beautiful spring day in November in Chicago!  He met some of the people on my Associate Board, all of whom are more of acquaintances rather than friends.  And the couple we ended up hanging with for the majority of the night were new to the board, so I didn’t yet know them at all.  So we still never met each other’s friends.  In fact, I did do a little bit of some online stalking and creeped his Facebook page.  We had one mutual friend–also an acquaintance for both of us.  So really no chance of our paths crossing if we decided to never see each other again.

In the Lyft ride home, after several drinks, we made out a little and this is where I confessed for the first time that my “horrible roommate situation” was really me living with The Ex, which he had pretty much deducted on his own.  This, I think, was thFile_001e first time I stayed the night at his place.  Thankfully he lived a few blocks away from my apartment, so I could easily get up and get ready for work the next morning.  Eventually he gave me a toothbrush to keep at his place since I was staying the night so frequently. That kind of freaked me out because to me that meant we could’ve been becoming serious–and I wasn’t ready for that!

As time passed, I couldn’t get him off my mind, though. While visiting friends in NYC for Thanksgiving, one of them noticed that my “face would just light up” every time my secret lover would text me.  I of course tried to deny it, and then gave into peer pressure to show them a picture of the new lovah. I didn’t want to show them a picture because that would make it too real. Or it could jinx us! But they were right.  I couldn’t wait to get my daily texts from The Scientist.  I couldn’t wait to see him.  I tried to not be too clingy and ask myself over, but I would get so excited every time he would invite me!

You’ll have to come back next week to learn more about our nights together.

Claiming Independence 

I’m not really a superstitious person, but I do believe that the way you ring in your new year is the way that you spend the rest of it. For example, on NYE 2015 (the night before 2016, just to be clear) I was in the ER with an inflamed colon (excruciating pain while shitting liquid blood!). Then I was in the ER three more times with kidney stones over the course of 2016 (also excruciating pain while pissing liquid blood!). On every occasion, I was alone. Granted, The Ex and I were technically over at that point. But seriously? He couldn’t come with me to the hospital? After 12 years together? Instead he wanted to antagonize me and go back to sleep.

As I writhed on the floor in pain from the stabbing rock in my back The Ex told me to “get it together.” In that moment I was convinced that they’d dedicate an episode of Snapped to me! (Is that show still on?)

So when NYE rolled around this time, I decided I needed to experience an exciting night: On. My. Own. I love taking myself out on dates, but I is it weird to go out on such  major holiday by myself?! In the end I decided to give zero fucks! I had a great night going solo! Solo YOLO if you will. It was my unofficial announcement to the world that I am single and free! I wore glitter beard and matching sparkly shoes along with a mesh jacket and a mesh tank top I’d recently purchased for too much money in NYC.

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I didn’t have any plans up until the day of. I knew I didn’t want to go to the straight bar with my friends, especially not for $75! So I researched the best deal on the Boystown strip and found that Progress Bar gave you the most bang for your buck! Including a bottle of champagne if you returned the next day. And of course I fucking came and got that bottle. I made sure I wasn’t too hung over to get what I paid for, bitches!

So that night, just as I always do, I met some cool people at the bar and danced the night away! I was just naughty enough, like the Vegas commercials, and made out with this boy I’d previously chatted to online. Poor thing’s face was covered in glitter and I couldn’t wipe it off. Anyone who was even partly sober could’ve easily devised that we had locked lips. Then later on I met up with my Mexican friends at the Latino gay bar up the street. And then I was home by 2am at the latest, slept in, and then caught brunch with my friend who then went with me to get that free bottle of champagne.

Let the single life officially begin!

Star Crashed Lovers

It must’ve been a Monday because I only ever went to Hydrate on Dollar Drink Night. I’d been in Chicago for about a month, and I was already living the Party Monster lifestyleThis was my Rock Star Era. I was living in the city temporarily for an exchange program, and I was going out every night with no one to report to. I was barely 21 and I used my young, white boy, southern twink charm to get everything for free.

No matter the club, the routine was always the same: Shots at home; Get to bar; Buy first dollar drink; Do reconnaissance lap around bar; See same beautiful boyz; See new beautiful boyz; Locate prey; Settle in at bar next to prey; Time drink perfectly to be finished at same time as prey’s drink; Strike up conversation by asking what prey’s delicious-looking drink is; Accept drink that prey inevitably buys me (I learned a a lot about mixology this way); Go home with boy (not necessarily the same as prey).

So on this one particular Monday night at Hydrate 12 years ago, I followed the same routine. But there was a new player in the mix. It was this black guy. Or this Indian. Or…it was hard to tell in the light. But this guy was conducting sexual health outreach surveys for a nonprofit. (Sexual anything, mind you, certainly does not happen in public in the south.) I noticed this guy was pretty standard when asking others the questions. But when he came over to me, he got quite chatty. Definitely flirting. I was getting good at figuring that out. He started asking some really personal questions about my sexual activity. The answers to which had been much different only a month prior. He took my number in case I was eligible to do a paid survey in the future.

A few drinks and a few boys later, I’m standing in line behind him waiting to use the restroom.   Drunkenly I stated, or slurred rather, “you know, it’s not fair that you have my number and I don’t have yours.”

So he gave me his business card and told me to call him.  Excuse me? No.  I don’t call boys. They call me. But I did. The very next day.  I met him at Roscoe’s two days later. And he was black. For sure. Or Indian. Maybe. And we started hanging out every day after that. Twelve years later, this guy became The Ex and we are living together in a Pigeon Hole. And he’s black. For sure he’s black.

We were doomed from the start, though. The very first time The Ex came over to my cute little studio apartment in Boystown, we got into a major screaming fight. I kicked him out and slammed the heavy metal door in his face. It was two in the morning and this resulted in a noise complaint from the landlord. A week later we were celebrating his birthday. That’s when he introduced me to his loser friend we’ll refer to as Mr. T. I hated Mr. T.  But I always ended up partying with Mr. T because Mr. T was always there.

I never believed in true love. Not in the romantic sense at least. But to stick with someone through all the shit we endured together meant that it had to have been true love. So on this very day 12 years later, I raise my glass to a toast. Though we weren’t meant to be in this moment in time,  I will always love you, my star crashed lover.

 

Freedom Isn’t Free

For the first time in 33 years, I’m about to be completely on my own. It’s such an exciting time in my life. I think it’s something I’ve always wanted, yet I’m scared outta my fucking mind! Adulting with another adult is hard enough! How the hell do I do it by myself? Perhaps it’ll be easier because I’m not responsible for anyone else. But that seems a selfish way of thinking after a very, very LTR!

The Ex and I pretty much started our relationship on the day we met…which will be 12 years ago this month. However, I have no idea on which day our relationship ended. I suppose the last official day will be April 30, 2017 when our lease is up.  Yes, you read that correctly. I am living in a shitty, broke down, roach-infested box…With. The. Ex! I have deemed this studio apartment the Pigeon Hole. The view out the only window is a brick wall of the neighboring residence which forms a nasty little alcove with the brick wall of my residence. In this alcove, pigeons like to coo. Pigeons like to shit. Pigeons like to fuck. And they’re noisy fuckers.

So how the hell did I get conned into moving into a crappy, confined Pigeon Hole with The Ex?  Because you don’t just throw away 11 years (at that time), right? He’d provided for me. And now he was out of a job for the first time ever. But I was just starting my first full time job; I couldn’t support us both living in the one bedroom that we’d been in for 7 years.  And so we were kicked out and forced to find the Pigeon Hole. 

So why did it end after more than a decade? That’s an answer I have to be careful in formulating over the course of the coming weeks. I don’t want to be unfair to The Ex. We may despise each other now, but I have respect for him still. However, I promised myself I’d be honest to the 5 people reading this and to myself. So how did it end? Essentially the answer may be that we were doomed from the start like some Shakespeare shit…

The Past 2 Drinking Days

So I drank on Easter, but barely got through one drink the whole day because I was coming down with a cold.  My acid has been bothering me quite a bit lately even without drinking, so I’ve been trying to eat better as well.  I should probably start taking some pills, though, too just to be on the safe side because too much acid reflux can lead to cancer.  Scary, right!

I also drank last night to celebrate the excitement and freedom of the Night of Noise event that the Illinois Safe Schools Alliance hosted at the Thompson Center in downtown Chicago to break the silence of the Day of Silence.  The DOS is a way to combat LGBTQ+ bullying in schools and the NON is a way to break the silence at the end of the day.  After the great event that my boyfriend organized with performances by my friends Mister E. Machine and up-and-coming artist James Panther, I went out with some other friends for drinks.  I was “in the mood,” whatever that means.   My boyfriend obviously had to stay behind and do some work since it was his event so it was just me and my two gay married friends.  Capitalizing on the fact that they were both getting flirted with by some guy at the bar, I got the gentleman to buy us all shots.  I’ve not been much of a shots person since I was 21, and now that I don’t drink that much at all, it probably wasn’t the best idea because the drinks they serve at this particular bar are already strong.  So my night ended with me puking out a cab window while we’re driving 45mph down Lake Shore Drive and getting yelled at by my boyfriend who had to provide me with a bedside trashcan and water once I got home.  I apologize to him and to the next person who opened the car door on the cab.  The emotional and physiological hangover is another reason why I am taking my 31-Day Challenge this year.