THE 2018 MEGA RECAP EPISODE!!!!

2018 Recap Episode

Hello, dear readers! It’s certainly been a while, hasn’t it? I imagined I would just start a brand new blog. Would I call it Loring Park 2.0? Elliott Park? Warehouse District? I write this in my new ninth floor apartment overlooking the North Loop of Minneapolis, where traffic zips by and I feel more Mary Richards-like than ever. There is a “J” above the fridge. Jared stops over every weekend. “Mary!” he cries. “Rhoda!” I cry back and we embrace, discuss the men in our lives, and have nights out on the town.

...Oh, just kidding. Y’know how I moved in with my parents until my tax refund came back? That’s gone. I took out a loan. That’s gone. I can’t have nice things. I’m still with the parents, at 32. Sometimes in order to feel like an adult, I get hotel rooms for the weekend. It doesn’t take a math genius to figure out this is not the way to financial freedom. If only I weren’t such a whore for room service and being called “Mr. Emmert”. I think it’s because I’m always called “ma’am” on the phone, and therefore such a salutation is surprisingly empowering and masculating. The AC Marriott has been my favorite because on the screen it says “Welcome, EMMERT JAKEY” and I can put on YouTube on the big TV and I actually have more fun watching WWE divas and Mariah Carey videos than going out. For a while I forget it’s a hotel and pretend it’s my own apartment, and I am a successful adult with a laptop that works and I didn’t screw everything up and I haven’t been a lovelorn unaccomplished alkie for 10 years.

Sigh.

Anyway, let’s recap my summer not-in-the-city but often-visiting-the-city, shall we?

****

It was very hard to get out of self-loathing mode when every event reminded me of my self-inflicted fall from grace. For example, I held Pride parties three years in a row at the little green house and they were always a source of joy. I didn’t have the house anymore, so instead I took advantage of Flip Phone offering their corporate discount for a rate at the AC Hotel Marriott, sharing a room with Steve and Jared. It would be a hoot, I convinced myself, and somewhat financially feasible as I wouldn’t be Uber-ing everywhere and I was lucky enough to have two shows Friday night at Sisyphus Brewing.

Jared had just suffered a major setback personally and professionally, so he wasn’t in very social spirits. I tried to focus on my shows, and we were sold out for our first show and almost for our second one. I felt very moved that Steve, Joey, Chandler, and my parents showed up for the first show (and then relieved because this meant I told jokes about them in the second show). Maggie Faris was the amazing headliner and was generous with the show pay. During the second show, I realized I had barely eaten anything all day, and Madi Tentinger graciously let me have her delicious Jersey Mike’s sandwich. It may be Pride weekend, but I also realized that we as a society just don’t deserve women.

On Saturday, Jared and I hung out with our friend Str8 Patrick. I feel bad to just call names like that, but it’s true. He’s like my one heterosexual male close friend. And in bittersweet irony, his birthday occasionally falls during Pride weekend -- we probably get along so well because that Cancer energy is real. We went to those douchey uptown pool apartments like Flux and Lime and were surrounded by straight men with six-packs. I normally would have enjoyed myself, but I didn’t know anyone other than Patrick because Jared got too nervous and bailed right away. Also, I was wearing brand new swim trunks that I hadn’t tried on first and I struggled with tying them and they were super short. Were I amongst my gays, we would have all gone to the corner and three of them would have argued over who had the best fine motor skills, but this would not be the case. I sat in the pool with the water up to my neck and left shortly after.

What a real man looks like.

After a quick jaunt to the hotel, I had to get back to the park! You can never do everything you want over Pride weekend, and I decided to buy tickets to see Brandy in the park by my damn self instead of waiting for my friends to decide what they wanted to (and none of them were major Brandy fans, another reminder that I’m so much damn older than everyone).

I got there earlier than usual (who? me?), so I sat under a tree and listened to the Something to Wrestle With podcast about Sable. Then I took selfies of myself and felt ugly and old. Did the Sable podcast not inform me that age was nothing but a number? I thought she was way hotter during her second run. Discuss.

Brandy soon took the stage and did all her hits! “Full Moon!” (It wasn’t a full moon, but do we really want a full moon during Pride weekend? Come on now) “What About Us?” “Sittin’ Up In My Room!” She did an acoustic version of “Almost Doesn’t Count” and I was sad for a nostalgia that did not exist. I mean, I sang it in seventh grade art class with Danny McNamer and Sarah Shepperd, but I’m not exactly sad about it.

I blasphemously left during the final number (“The Boy is Mine”, which she is still deliciously beefing with Monica about), feeling cinematic as I walked with

with the fireworks behind me, because then I was going to the Rihanna-themed Flip Phone party at First Avenue! I love a crowded queer-friendly First Avenue dance party. I feel it is my happy place. For the occasion, I took advantage of Rihanna’s Fenty x Puma line available in the juniors department at Nordstrom and wore a cobalt PUMA crop top with matching sweatpants that had laced-up holes on the side, like something Ivory wore during the latter half of her wrestling career. It was completely inappropriate for a 31-year-old white dude to be wearing, but then I thought to myself, What would Rihanna say? Her Barbados accent sat on my shoulder. “Jakey,” she would sigh, “It is Pride. Suckitup.”

Sunday morning, I was marching in the parade with my employer! I was an hour late but nothing had started yet. My friend Diva freelances with my employer but ultimately proved to be a traitor by marching with her friend Stephanie with the Delta float, and I was never speaking to her again. The parade was delayed due to protests, and my Facebook feed was nothing but white people complaining. I tried getting updates from Steve, Joey, and my mom, who were scattered during various places during Hennepin Avenue. I felt bad because last year I was so full of energy, and this year I had to fake any enthusiasm I could muster. One saintly young woman let me use her deodorant. I kept getting sunscreen in my eye. I tried to find friends that I could hug, and I recall that I found a few, but toward the end I legitimately couldn’t see anything. This was not last year when I hugged my aunt and uncle, or when I jumped on Steve for a photo-op (a picture I am sure I deleted in a drunken sadness -- we’ll get to that later). When it was over, I collapsed in a heap, full of sweat, tears, and sunscreen. Someone got me a bottle of water. I called Steve and my mother, neither of whom were nearby. I finally was able to walk to Brit’s Pub to find my newly forgiven Diva, where we walked up Hennepin again to the AC Marriott. It was a miracle I had any feeling in my legs the next day.

We chilled in the room for a little bit, and Jared’s friends even brought their baby! Then it was time to enjoy all the festivities in the park, like the fair. Diva’s family owns the Que Viet truck so I had a delicious egg roll on a stick and splurged on strawberry lemonade. It’s always fun to see all the kids!

The night ended with me inexplicably dancing with the muscle gays, including Instagay, who is 6’3” and built of granite and was wearing a crop top. That’s always when I know it is time to go. The older I get, the more ridiculous I feel.

***

Speaking of older, the halfway point of summer is always my birthday. I still lived at home. I miraculously got a great deal at the Westin for that weekend. I had originally planned to go to San Diego for my birthday, but a) I couldn’t get the time off and b) I realistically couldn’t have afforded it. I was still bummed, though. TLC was the headliner! My boss said I could have the weekend before off, but out of the four friends I have who live in San Diego, that is one of their birthday weekends, and to visit someone else on their birthday weekend would have seemed like a Stage Five Clinger move.

Charlie’s birthday is the day after mine but this year we celebrated his birthday on Saturday and mine on Sunday! It was Mary Tyler Moore-themed, complete with extravagant invitations and ‘70s apparel. I scrambled and found a Sex Pistols tee at the last minute. It was red (my favorite color) and I could wear it again! Also, it was the middle of July and I wasn’t about to spring for a polyester suit and be a sweat bubble all night. My loyalty can run so deep, which is proof I would not be a very good bridesmaid.

The day after was MY birthday! I keep forgetting I am 32. It’s not like I think I’m 22 or some shit, I just keep saying “31”. Anyway, someday I will be gone, and people will ask what I was like as a friend and relative. “He was the kind of person who invited 20 people to his birthday and was half an hour late,” they will say with an eye roll.

Anygay, the best thing about my life is my enriched friendships and bond with my family, and I say -- in a good way -- that I didn’t even need to show up for anyone to have a good time! It was a joy to be around good friends, my parents, and my grandparents! Erin was in town from London for just three weeks and brought a gentleman caller. I have known Diva since third grade and she showed up! Actors from my play were there (we’ll get to that later, too). My brother brought his best friend and personal trainer Art, who briefly went to the same college with me.

“Do you know Dane from basketball?” Grandma Shirley asked.

“Why, because he’s black, Grandma?” my brother snapped. I was kind of annoyed at his umbrage because Art had no problem with it and our 80-year-old grandmother has given money to the DFL her entire adult life and she’s at a freaking gay bar. Back off the woman a little.

Charlie gave me an early career Mariah Carey VHS (that I still have yet to watch! We must do it during our next girls’ night). While no birthday will probably be as good as my surprise party last year, it was a day to feel happy and blessed. And the Westin had a pool.

Diva + Mariah = my two favorite divas

If I would have done a Christmas card this year

***

Steve and I saw Beyonce and Jay-Z at U.S. Bank Stadium and it was a religious experience. We fought during dinner and we fought after. I was already in a mood because I didn’t charge my phone during election judge training that afternoon so it was dead and I had left my debit card at Bar Zia. We were mad at each other for silly things that happened months ago because I had just found about them, and I was probably still mad about THE THING that happened years ago.

“Infidelity” isn’t the word. “Deceit”, maybe. There’s an extra layer of humiliation when someone lies to you and you know they’re lying but you’re too insecure and defeated to say anything back. When Beyonce sang “Resentment”, I got it.

As for THE THING, I got over it because I wrote a play about it. Nbd.

No, it is a big deal! I did another show in the Fringe Festival!

It was a labor of love and I wasn’t as prepared as I was in 2013, but I had a great cast and lots of help. Two parts I held auditioned for and the rest I called in favors. I learned to never direct myself if I am going to write and act, but I’m still proud of it. We told a story about friendship, about outgrowing your friends, lies, sex, greed, fame, the social stratosphere of a gay city scene, alcoholism, mental illness, astrology, about the unglamorous part of going from your twenties into your thirties. Not all of us will grow up a the same time. I learned to embrace that in others instead of resenting them for doing so. Reid played a sleazy Andy Cohen character, my friend Zidane reprised his role as Jared from They Shoot 25-Year-Old Gay Men, Don't They?, we had a hybrid Celebrity/Joey character, and a boy from North Dakota was a hybrid Steve/Instagay character. The female character was 10% my friend Katelyn, 10% my love of new age, and 80% made up, and therefore she was my favorite. I named her Molly Jo, which would have been my name as a girl.

The first show was at 10 PM on a Friday night. We almost sold out and it was a torrential downpour. The theater was hot as hell. On the way back, about eight of us, including Joey, Dane, and Erin, all ran in the downpour to a distillery attached to the theater, and then found out we could have got there through the building anyway. I can pretend that life is a dramatic Oscar-winning film, but even in its darkest moments, it will be a screwball comedy.

We received reviews. I have a video of it but it’s of our second performance but I don’t think we really hit it until the third, and I’m still too much of a chicken shit to watch it, despite the three figures I paid. Le sigh.

***

A month after the show, we celebrated my achievement and Steve’s birthday by a trip to Vegas to go see Mariah!!!

I haven’t seen her since a fateful trip to Chicago, and I ended a friendship because I felt so bad about not being in Vegas last time. Steve got us a room at The Cosmopolitan and we took great advantage of the slot machines and the two pools. And yes, honey, I did find a Mariah slot machine!!!

I hadn’t been to Vegas since my days of wrestling forums and podcasting. Dave Meltzer called me chief! I spent the whole day with Bryan Alvarez’s lovely wife Whitney! I was surprised by how nostalgic I had felt for those days. I still had the best kiss of my life at the now-defunct Krave nightclub, under a foam machine with a tall and strapping British boy. When the foam cleared he had disappeared, and I still wonder if he was a ghost. “‘Til the World Ends” by Britney Spears still takes me there.

Getting to Vegas was the hardest part. As luck would have it, I had to close the night before, and knew that going out would have been disastrous even though Steve wanted us all to meet at his house. Again, if we still lived at the green house, it would have been fine. I’m the one who decided we couldn’t live there anymore. He’s the one who never wanted to talk about it. On we go.

My mom dropped me off at Steve’s, and he was already in a panic because I was ten minutes late (Virgos gonna Virgo). I got there and our friends Josh and Max were there sleeping on couches. Josh is in the Marines and smiles a lot and doesn’t talk a whole lot, and Max will read you to filth without breaking a sweat. Steve’s roommate Walker was there, too. They were all very hung over.

“Good news,” Steve said with a nervous smile.

“What?” I asked.
“Jared isn’t here,” Steve explained.

“Um, okay…”
“He stayed at a friend’s last night,” Steve said. “And he texted me that he lost his debit card.”

“We can spot him until Vegas,” I said. “He banks with Wells Fargo and they will have ATM’s there. Where’s my phone?” I immediately had to charge it when I got there, because I spent the latter half of 2018 with a phone that barely functioned.

I looked at my phone to see if Jared had called, and then remembered it was Labor Day.

“Wait, have you called him yet?” I asked Steve.

“No,” Steve said. “Why?”

“Oh my god,” I said with exasperation. “Give me your phone.”

I called Jared, who was somewhere in downtown Minneapolis.

“Hiiiiii,” he said. “I’m just waiting for the bank to open and then my friend is going to give me a ride to Steve’s. Don’t worry about it.”

“Jared,” I said sternly. “The bank isn’t going to open. It’s Labor Day.”

“What?!!!!” Jared cried. “Oh, no wonder no one isn’t outside.”

“We can spot you until Vegas,” I said. “They have Wells Fargo there. Just hurry.”

Jared and his friend arrived later than we would have preferred, and then she had to get gas. I have CLEAR because I paid for it when we were flying back from Denver and almost missed the flight, so I selfishly took comfort in knowing that I would have made it to Vegas okay, but what would happen if Steve and Jared were stuck at the airport? How long could I just hang out in the lobby of the Cosmo?

I said “Girl, byeeee” and whisked through the CLEAR line, then helped myself at the airport bar with a mimosa that cost as much as one night in Vegas. Jared, Steve and I reunited, and all was well.

We upgraded to a fancy room because I won $5.99 on Trivia HQ while in line for the room and felt like celebrating! (with Steve’s money) We rode the roller coaster at New York New York, drank and ate delicious delicacies, went to that 1 Oak place where no one was there, and didn’t realize we had a fridge until checking out.

As for Mariah, SHE WAS EVERYTHING. Free of the constriction that the “#1 to Infinity” concept was (all her #1’s in consecutive order), you could tell it was a playlist that she wanted to do. Of course, she did several of them (opening with “Honey” and closing with “We Belong Together” and “Hero”), but you could tell she relished doing other songs. “This was my first single that didn’t make it to #1, only #2,” she said before singing “Can’t Let Go”, and you could tell that almost 30 years later this still bothered her. I tried not to be spoiled about the playlist, but I saw rumors on Twitter that she was changing up her choices of deep cuts every week. So when she sang a snippet of “Crybaby” and I think I was the only person in all of the Colosseum who knew it, it was a moment.

I DON’T GET NO SLEEP

I’M UP ALL WEEK

WITH THOUGHTS AGAIN OF YOU AND ME

AND EVERYTHING WE USED TO BE

SEE, I CRY

I CRY

I CRYYYYYYYY

OHHH

I’VE GOTTA GET ME SOME SLEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPP

Before she planned her Caution World Tour, we were planning a February return trip. As for the trip announcement, my phone blew up so much that morning I thought someone had died. When I found out she would be at the State Theater (her first concert ever in Minnesota), I wet the bed.

I spent far too much money in Vegas, shopping sales at Ted Baker, Nordstrom, Saks, and 7 for All Mankind. My only regret is buying Zedd headphones that I didn’t want or need because this man at the mall barked at me and I did not know how to say no. I can’t be left alone.

On the flight back, we were the only ones on the plane. Jared and I cried at Won’t You Be My Neighbor? even though I had already seen it in the theater with Chuck. I watched Life of the Party on Steve’s screen over his shoulder and wanted it to be about Maya Rudolph’s character instead. If you stream it, just watch the part where she goes to support Melissa McCarthy in arbitration.

***

How would I have gone to Vegas in February? I was still getting hotel rooms. Joey, Jared and I went to Treasure Island and terrified the poor teenage girl working the water slide, and then Jared almost got kicked out for doing a cannonball in the swim bar. I went to lots of parties at Lee’s, who lives in a high rise on Marquette and always graciously invites me. It’s a life that won’t ever be mine, and not just because I lack the emotional stability to live in a room with a balcony.

We were at a party one night and there were too many people for us to share an Uber to Saloon. One girl told the Uber to wait and we were on the 30th floor. I felt for whoever was going to lose a star on their passenger rating, and I walked with Sven to The Saloon. It was raining but it was unusually brisk for November. I am sure I verbally vomited all over the poor lad. I was also nervous because Ron was in town and whenever he is in Minnesota I think all of the molecules shift. Then, right when I got there, BROSKI! was there with his boyfriend and his ex-boyfriend was right next to them. I’ve been seeing Broski more often lately and I am like 98.7% over it, so it’s good to know for my future self that it only takes five and a half years for me to emotionally recover from heartbreak. Nevertheless, it was a scene I just didn’t want to witness. Also his ex-boyfriend Todd has been flirting with me lately and I know it’s just to be funny but it is sexually confusing and I don’t think I like that I like it.

“Get to the 90s!” Ron texted me, and I was so desperate to see him and flee the scene that I left a full drink at The Saloon. I waited in line for 15 minutes and did karaoke first and then got a drink just to prolong the agony, and then I gleefully told his uncomfortable friends that he met me while I was narrating gay porn in a bar attached to the men’s bathroom. He chastely kissed me on the cheek when he left and I fainted. My feelings about him are very third grade. For ten minutes I erroneously thought he got married and I was only sad about not being invited to the wedding. I reunited with Tan Man the following week, and I am lucky to know so many beautiful people (inside and outside) who live in the West Coast. Here’s to winning more scratch-off tickets so I can finally visit them.

***

A highlight of the fall was a gay wedding reception! James and Marco got married! I planned ahead by asking to be off work the next day. I felt tacky because this means I was skipping inventory, but I also felt wise! I got a room at the AC Marriott again, and missed the first dance (and had to pay cover) because I was too busy watching Mariah Carey videos. There’s one where she sings at the iHeartRadio music festival and they cut to a young woman crying and she is me. On the back of this album is a personal treasure.

I wore a new burgundy suit and felt like a goddamn star, which only exacerbated when Clive picked me up like I weighed two pounds. Clive lives an hour away and is cute if you’re into that whole broski-from-a-small-town vibe (but who is?). One time we went swimming in Reid’s pool and he borrowed a swimsuit from me. He has abs and I wasn’t sure if I was flattered or offended that now I could never wear that suit ever again. (It was a very broski-type swimsuit anyway and short shorts were on trend last summer, anyway. I don’t know why the hell I had them to begin with. Maybe they weren’t even mine from the start.)

The night truly became magical when we realized we could use TouchTunes. It was like having a secret super power. With great power comes great responsibility, and I knew if I just started playing Mariah Carey I would have ruined the reception. I did lots of Britney and “Let’s Get Married (remix)” by Jagged Edge, because that is what I would have wanted played at my wedding, and not just because at the beginning they say “J.E. y’all” and those are my initials.

I clued Joey into my super power and rolled his eyes when he said I should play “Bring Me to Life” by Evanescence, but everyone sang it at the top of their lungs and proved me totally wrong. I kept flirting with Clive and I am sure I looked ridiculous. At one point “Sometimes” by Britney Spears played and we slow danced like we were in middle school. At the time I thought it was a cute and sexy moment, and the next day I saw it on Lee’s snapchat and I looked like his dad. Then we stayed in middle school because “My Heart Will Go On” played, and I bitched about Joey’s imminent trip to see Celine Dion in Vegas, because this year we learned that no one is allowed to have nice things except me.

Because I was having such middle school flashbacks, and not just because I kept shamelessly flirting with Clive, I thought of my favorite thing to do at middle school dances. “We should play the train!” I cried, thinking of the Quad City DJ’s song. “Then everyone makes a train! We did all the time! It was so fun!

“No one is going to want to do that,” said Joey.

“People love the train!” I yelled. It played and at first nothing happened, and I made everyone that I knew in the nearby vicinity join in. By the first chorus, the whole entire room was on a train, some trains veering off into their own, and eventually a dance circle was created. I tried to do some back bridge thing and one of the go-go boys tried to dance with me and I was really awkward, but still! It was my 13 Going on 30 moment when she saves the magazine party by playing “Thriller”.

I think I can

I think I can

I think I can

More drinks poured as the night went on. James had to kick out one of Marco’s friends, and I told myself to never be so awful that I got kicked out of my friend’s wedding reception. “She was terrible,” James said. “She was hitting on my 80-year-old father all night.”

“I didn’t realize your dad was rich,” I said.

“What?” James asked.

“Nothing,” I said. This must have been post-tequila.

I was wired as hell when I got back to the room. Joey stayed for a while and we watched music videos on the TV and he walked home at about 2:30, and of course my Cancer ass made him text me later because 4th & Hennepin late on a Sunday night is not an ideal place for a young boy to be by himself. Then I felt anxious and lonely. The wedding party was staying at a different hotel. Why did I keep booking hotels? Was Uber-ing home at 2:30 that bad? Sometimes it felt like highway robbery. Sometimes my phone would die and I’d pay $40 cash to a pissy cab driver. One time I got a room at 1:58 A.M. because my phone was dead and Proud Drunk Me felt I was loving myself more if I paid $200 to be alone in a hotel room instead.

Clive frantically called at 3 in the morning because he was locked out of the apartment where he was staying.

“You can just stay here,” I said, and I didn’t even mean it in a romantic way. Like not at all.

“Jakey, this is BAD,” he groaned. “I have to get up super early tomorrow! I’m supposed to pick up Mike from the airport.”

“Who’s Mike?” I asked.

Awkward pause. “My … boyfriend,” he said.

“Oh,” I said as I sat back down on the bed. “Well, you can try an Uber but that’s gonna cost you a lot …”

I helped him come up with a Plan B but we ended up blowing up the phone of someone else staying at the apartment who worked the graveyard shift. I felt victorious in that I was able to make the assist and only a little bummed that the Sometimes thing was nothing more than a music video moment. And it was better to be let down gently than to see him sucking face in the corner of a bar, y’know? It’s a weird thing about gay friendships. Sometimes one party has a crush for a while but it goes away and evolves into something more meaningful. I don’t need to be a masculine jock daddy to have a good friendship.

Most of the wedding party was staying at the Hyatt. I played video games at Steve's house the next afternoon. The comedown felt harsh.

"I'm bipolar," I said, and my tears hit the pillow.
"It's okay," he said.

It somehow felt final.

***

ANOTHER hotel story!

For Halloween, I got a room at the Hotel Minneapolis. Did you know it used to be a bank and was built in the 1920’s? Did you know that the desk agent knew all this and told this all to Charlie while he waited for me to get there?

We were splitting the room because we got VIP tickets to meet Tiffany “New York” Pollard. I made sure to pack my portable DVD player because Charlie has Flavor of Love and I Love New York on DVD. I wore a red suit and devil horns and just went as a cheesy devil. Charlie went all out and went as New York’s “inner cry”. One of my favorite things about Charlie is that when he nerds out about something (a phrase I use with endearment), he goes all-in with it. We’re gonna see New York? Then we’re gonna pregame while watching her reality shows, and our costume is gonna be so esoteric that only she’s gonna understand it.

The meet and greet was on the first floor of UNION, and you will be shocked to learn that people were cranky about waiting. The line moved rather briskly, although I was nervous because this man kept talking to us and Charlie and insisted on taking his own pics (unbeknownst to me, this was a no-no). There was no way for me to tell Charlie that this was the same dude who called me a snob and shoved me during the last night of Jetset! We got close to the line and I made a beeline to Gigi Berry who was assisting with the photos, a) to get away from the guy but b) because Gigi Berry is a goddamn delight.

I was nervous for the pic and I wanted Charlie to have his moment because he worked so hard on his costume, and of course New York loved it. In the pic, I’m just awkwardly standing in the background like Mrs. George at the end of Mean Girls. As I walked away, Ms. Pollard hollered.

“I’ve always wanted to say this!” she cried. “Excuse me! THE DEVIL IS BUSY!”

There’s a reason she’s a star, folks. I also loved, per Chad of Flip Phone and her own Instagram, that she had a reverence for Minneapolis as a first-time visitor. She was especially inspired by having her picture taken by the Prince star at First Avenue. I got my picture taken with sexy Instagays, including one I work with who said “Please don’t share this on social media”. Um, okay. One I used to work with hugged me and didn’t have a shirt on and I almost fell off the roof.

The next night I planned on just Slutooning! Chuck and his boyfriend Jeff were gonna come over but then bailed, because they’re an old married couple now. Ok, they aren’t married and Jeff is 27 but looks 16, but you kn0w what I mean. Also, I worked that morning! I got Halloween off even though I didn’t ask for it, and my 21-year-old co-worker that did ask for it off was scheduled, so I bit the bullet and worked at 9 AM that Saturday morning. I woke up late so took a Lyft to MoA. I was shockingly on time, so I learned the secret to punctuality is to take a Lyft that will cost as much as one hour’s pay. I am not 21 and felt miserable as the day went on. I took the train to the hotel and this loud drunk man was terrifying everyone. It was uncomfortable! I made my way back to the hotel by navigating the empty skyway successfully, and I fantasized of a different life in which I made good choices and lived in a high rise.

I tried and failed to take a nap. Reid came over and was Jonathan van Ness from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. He looked amazing. Do you believe???

As for my costume, Diva and I had gone to the Halloween store (Diva is a special-effects makeup artist and lives for Halloween), and I thought I had bought a two-piece camo army-type outfit to wear with my MAN HUNTER hat. Turns out I bought a Halo-themed onesie with no pockets and it was tight as hell!

“Look at my ass,” I told Reid.

“I think it’s on backwards,” Reid said.

“Oh, no wonder,” I said. “I was wondering why the velcro was in the front. That seemed awfully stripper-ish for something from the kids’ department.”

We got there and it was raining! Thankfully, The Saloon had a roof over the patio. Reid placed in the top ten of the costume contest! Diva might have won but she didn’t get there until 12:30. In her defense, she did this Venom look and it was sooo gory! She also couldn’t see because the entire left side of her face was obscured with SFX make-up and  and I had to be her seeing-eye gay. My favorite costume was Taylor, who was Jim Carrey Riddler in the third act of Batman Forever and was everything. I wish I knew HALO because hot guys kept trying to talk to me about it and then walked away when they realized I didn’t know anything.

Here We Go

Dr. Bobby and I have discussed bipolar disorder and borderline personality disorder. I have not been officially diagnosed with either. Even if I was, it would not be an excuse to continue acting a fool. Whatever it was -- and maybe it was nothing more than being an overdramatic asshole who drank too much and should have stopped mixing Adderall with alcohol a year and a half ago -- it seemed to get substantially worse when I moved back home.

From November to April, too many nights ended with me yelling at Steve. I would cool down and then I would crawl into bed and all was seemingly forgiven.

I didn’t live with him anymore. Now if I yelled it was to him at home, or in angry text message mode. I still had all that anger but now it had nowhere to go.

One morning I arrived home in an Uber, set to be on time to work, even with enough time to shower. I had stayed at Joey’s and he had the day off. My mother saw me get dropped off just as she was leaving. “Liar liar pants on fire,” she texted me as she drove off, convinced I had been at Steve’s. Considering that the root of all my anger at Steve was based on deception, I was especially upset at being called a liar. Then I couldn’t find my keys. Then I freaked the fuck out.

“I can’t come into work!!” I screamed at a co-worker while sobbing. I just drove. I drove by my old house and took sad Snapchats. I debated driving to Duluth where my Aunt Jana lived. I texted Ron if it was a nice place to visit because he went to school there. He was responsive until he realized I was going nuts. I went to Chuck’s house and he made me a sandwich and trimmed my neck hair. Then I went to Sean’s house, where we had an adventurous day of the Eagle, The Saloon, Whole Foods and Mario. This is proof to always be friends with older and wiser water signs. I did not perform in a show I was booked at that night at House of Comedy and did not properly notify of them of my absence, and I believe I am appropriately blacklisted. I screamed at Steve that night anyway and I don’t remember why.

A week after I performed in my former college town of Menomonie for as much money as half my day job paycheck, as I was leaving for work, my mother said, “You have too much free time on your hands.” It was random and out of character for her. I knew after decades of experience that LorettaSpeak is all about what is not being said, but in the moment I felt angry and attacked. “Fuck off,” I said, loud enough so the neighbors could here.

“Jacob,” she pleaded. “Don’t be rude.”

“Fine,” I yelled. “Fuck off, please.”  It was like my teenage years redux, only this time I could drive. I sped away in my Yaris and didn’t speak to her for two days.

I fell down on the way to Joey’s one night. I went to Chuck’s again and he clipped my nails and bandaged my hand.

***

Steve got a boyfriend.

Jared told him to tell me before he told the world, or else he would feel my wrath. Casey told him that I was going to try to sabotage it.

I found out from Facebook and Snapchat anyway. Steve, who had not posted on Facebook in a month, posted an adorable picture of them on a date, and their copulation quickly led to cohabitation. I never said I was good in bed. I handled it very well.

Oh, I’m totally kidding. Jared and Casey may as well be oracles. I was an absolute terror for two months. I was the psycho ex in every rom-com or episode of Criminal Minds where you wonder what the hell the nice handsome man saw in the crazy average-looking woman in the first place. Move on, Sharon! The SWAT team is here! (Okay, I’ve only seen two episodes of Criminal Minds and I really can’t stand that show, but this happened in one of them. And Shemar Moore kept his shirt on, which was just rude!) I was a banshee of a psycho ex who wasn’t even an ex. I made pre-homicidal Betty Broderick look like a pillar of positive coping skills, but she had money and her own house. Yet, by my own words:

I was so focused on emotionally preparing myself for the ending that I wasn't able to enjoy the beginning and the middle. I don't know how to be a boyfriend. I want him to be with someone who is nice to him and was born in the '90s and has a tight ass and doesn't drink very much and enjoys sex multiple times a day and doesn't yell at him about stuff that happened a long time ago. I can't have nice things.

I wrote that a year ago. So now this was the reality that I had long been anticipating. Why the hell was I so angry? It was similar to the thing that he had lied about for so long before. I knew it was going to happen before it actually happened, then it happened, and I was so obsessive about it that I couldn’t get free. The boy was everything I’m not and I took it all too personally. I am not 20. I don’t look good in my underwear and take pictures of it. I am not nice to Steve. I took a thirst trap picture as a joke and my stomach looked good but I still wore a hat and it only got, like, 18 likes. He'll post a picture wearing a staple and get 3,000 likes.

But it's not even about him, y'know?

If he would have chosen a grad student, would I have hated myself for being a three-time college dropout? If he would have chosen an athlete, would I have hated myself for being lazy? If he would have chosen a woman, would I have hated myself for being a dude?

I invited myself over 72 hours after the big reveal, if by “invited” you mean “shamelessly begged to come over”.

“This would be so much fun with him here,” Steve said as we played Monopoly on XBox. “I have to go pick him up soon.” I landed on Community Chest and left.

“Why don’t you come over anymore?” Walker asked as I was storming out, and I didn’t feel like answering.

“This is too painful for me to handle right now,” I said in a text message, and then I got lost and ended up in Champlin.

If it could have ended like that, and I would have taken a month to simmer and be in Do Not Contact mode, this would be fine.

Alas, that is what a mature person would have done. Instead, I drunk texted and shit posted constantly but avoided them in person at all costs. I almost clotheslined them running out of the bathroom at Flip Phone Mariah Christmas, because I was trying to get back downstairs and that’s where they just happened to be making out (despite this and Jared spilling me on twice, that was a fun night; they played both "Dancing On My Own" and "Call Your Girlfriend", so it's like me and the new boy each got a song, and they played "All I Want for Christmas is You" on the hour every hour). I really hurt the boyfriend’s feelings in ShitPost #402, which was never what I wanted, and there’s not enough gifts in the world to make that okay. I have chosen to stay in my own lane, and this time mean it as opposed to the first 100 times I said that.

In the movie in my mind, we would have figured out how to date as adults in the city without all the awkwardness around us, maybe casually seeing others and encouraging each other on the way. Maybe I would forgive him for all the bullshit I was mad about. Maybe he would want to actually use the word boyfriend and I would be open to it instead of pushing him away all the time because I was embarrassed about him being embarrassed about me. He was never responsible for my insecurity.

You don’t know what you don’t know. I didn’t know my dad would be so sick for so long, and that when he finally came back home he was not going to be the same person. I didn’t know I was going to be so horrible with money and excessive spending. I didn’t know my mother and I would revert to how I was in my teenage years, with me extending any boundaries to the limit and her not even trying to mask her disappointment. I didn’t know I was going to spend thousands of dollars on adult chat websites, because I can’t ever be addicted to one thing at a time. I didn’t know that whatever mental illness I had was going to get so much worse when there was nobody there to rein me in.  I didn’t know how much I would miss the comfort of a bed I had slept in every night for eight months until someone else was there. I didn’t know how a hyperactive tortoise shell cat and a weighted blanket would feel so shitty compared to a sexy upgrade. I didn’t know how absolutely dreadful and nasty I could be. "This is not who I am", I would say the next day, but after a while it apparently was.

None of this would excuse anything.

He’s not a saint. He might not be over his allergy to awkward conversations. But I’ll tell you this, gentle reader: he bore the brunt of emotional abuse and juvenile shenanigans of a broken man unwilling and unable to change for longer than any reasonable human being should.

You can say it was me. He doesn't owe me anything and I got what I deserved. And what did I think would happen?

I can read a room. I know the score.

Next week/month (no, really): Christmas and New Year's lead into an especially melancholy January. Erin and Jakey get a tarot reading and a supernatural experience! Jakey goes to Phoenix with his brother! What could go wrong?