Put Your Teeth Back In & Call Me Sunshine

When you’re young, meeting people is relatively easy.  You meet your friends in your neighborhood, or in school.  It was simple.  Being an adult, the game is played in a different arena.  You have to seek out new connections at work, online, or (sadly) at a bar.  Eventually it does happen, but in the haste to create a community you’re bound to make some mistakes.

I had moved to Seattle in 1995 immediately after graduating from Ole Miss.  I moved in with my best friend Jen, found a job, and for the most part sat in my apartment waiting for life to happen.  It was pathetic.  I soon became depressed, gained 30 pounds, and considered moving back to Mississippi where I already had a tight community of friends.  It was finding a job that saved me.

I found employment at Mediplex Rehab.  Mediplex was a brain injury rehabilitation facility.  My job title was Rehabilitation Specialist.  I was excited about the position as it provided validation that my Psychology degree was worth something.  Even if that something paid only eight dollars an hour.  I didn’t care.  I had just left Mississippi where I was cleaning houses for five dollars an hour.  I thought I had struck gold; however, I quickly learned that you cannot pay anyone enough money to wipe the ass of another individual.  That amount of currency just doesn’t exist.  In addition, I felt like I was in a good place to meet people as my co-workers were all around my age, in school, or had just graduated.  Aaron was one of those co-workers.  Being that Aaron was a Gay, and I was a Gay we were either destined to fall in love, or be the best of friends.  At least that’s the way the Straights thought it should happen.  Initially, I thought they might be onto something as I found Aaron quite charming with a wicked sense of humor; however, like all relationships (romantic or otherwise), it takes time to see someone for who they truly are.  As my therapist said, “Everyone has a mask.  Just be sure you like what you see when it comes off.”  I agreed, once the mask comes off, people are either so in love with you that they don’t care how blemished your soul is, or they realize you should be on a serotonin re-uptake inhibitor, and kiss your sweet ass goodbye.  In less than a few month’s time I said goodbye to Aaron’s sweet ass.  No regrets.  Felt good.  Still feels good.

On one particular evening Aaron had come over to my place for wine and nibbles.  We  were swapping tales of dating, when he revealed that he had been corresponding with a gentleman in Manhattan for the last several weeks.  The man, whom we will refer to as Bruce, he met from an ad in the Village Voice.  This was 1995, and well before online dating became mainstream.  Bruce was a well-to-do investment banker who traveled to Seattle often, and was interested in making a romantic connection with someone in Seattle.  I guess, in 1995, there was a real shortage of gay boys in Manhattan.  Which never struck Aaron as odd, but had me concerned. 

After several glasses of red wine, Aaron revealed that he just might be in love with this Bruce guy.  I asked how this was possible without meeting him, and he said, “A spiritual connection transcends the physical.” That’s when I called him a cab.

Later that night, I was relaying Aaron’s story to Jen.  Jen, a beautiful optimist when it comes to love, thought the idea of a bi-coastal relationship was sweet.  I thought it was the drunken meanderings of a desperate thirty year old gay man looking to fill the black hole that he called his life with the attention of another freak who couldn’t get laid despite living in a large metropolitan area brimming with homosexuals.  Jen said I sounded bitter.  I said I sounded honest.  She said she was worried about me.  I said she should shut up, and have a drink.

Aaron’s long distance romance continued, and since this was before internet dating had been perfected, little Aaron was spending hundreds on long distance charges.  He said it didn’t matter.  “Love transcended money.”  I was beginning to see a pattern with Aaron’s transcendence, and he was transcending himself right out of my life.

For Aaron the only thing that mattered, the only thing he could focus on, was the undying love he  supposedly shared with Bruce.  I wondered how this could be possible given that they had never shared the same space physically.  I was concerned.  Concerned that Aaron was losing, or lost, his grip, and more concerned that I actually gave a damn about such a damaged individual that I had only known for a few weeks.  I needed new friends, a hobby, something to occupy my time other than the antics of a desperate homosexual.  Hell, I already was a desperate homosexual.  Why would I need to spend more time with another one? 

The end finally came one fateful night at Re-Bar for Queer Disco.  The Re-Bar was/is a small club that had rotating theme nights, and Thursday nights belonged to the Gays.  Aaron and I were regulars, and on this particular evening; between pitchers of beer, and kicking up our heels, Aaron asked if I had seen Sleepless In Seattle. “Damn, and the night was going so well!” I thought.  By this time in my life I had never ended a friendship over a film, but there is always the first time for everything.  I told him that I had seen the film, and it had offended me with its typical bullshit about love between two stupid straight people.  Not only was it fiction, but felt more like science fiction.  My girlfriends would ask how I could not get caught up in the hopeless romance of it all?  Easy, Tom Hanks + Meg Ryan = terror.  I don't pay for terror.  I get paid to endure it everyday.  Have I mentioned that I manage a dental office?

So, Aaron went on to say that his life mirrored Sleepless In Seattle.  He saw himself as the Meg Ryan character (of course he did) and Bruce as his Tom Hanks.  My first thought was, “You poor, poor, sad man.”  Followed by, “Ooh…Tom Hanks? Seriously?”  Aaron stated that just like Meg’s character, the love he had for Bruce broke through the barriers of time and space.  That nothing could stop their love from “flowering.”  I asked, “Did you just say flowering?”  Aaron nodded enthusiastically, and I ordered another pitcher of beer.

I really wanted to avoid the Bruce subject, but there is just no way to avoid a personality disorder.  It’s like trying to dodge a bullet, or a drunk drag queen, you just can’t.  Besides, I couldn’t understand how Aaron was still maintaining this long distance romance? According to Aaron, all one needed was a phone, cheap tequila, marijuana, and fine motor skills.  Who knew the formula for love was so simple?  I made a mental note.

After another pitcher of beer, and dancing to Salt-n-Pepa’s Push It, Aaron revealed that he was finally going to meet Bruce.  I acted as if I cared. 
“Really, that’s just great…for you.”  He was completely blind to my lack of interest.  Whether it was the beer, or his delusional transcendent beliefs, he was convinced that not only was he in love with Bruce, but that the world must love him as well. 

Unable to resist, I had to ask the following:
“So, you must be very excited.  Are you going to do anything special when he gets here?”
“Yeah, but I’m going to very busy for the next couple of months before he gets in.  So I probably won’t get to see you very often, but I would love for you to go out with us while he’s in town.”
Like a Burmese Python with a rat dangling in front of me, I lunged...
“Busy with what?”
“Well, he wants me to do a few things before he comes out.”
The rat was looking really good, so I lunged again.
“What kind of things?”
“Oh, y’know pick up his favorite champagne, install a harness, and get dentures.”

It was one of those moments when my friend Darcie would say, “Rob, watch the face.” With my mouth agape, and my eyes bugged out as if I had a thyroid condition, I was beyond shocked.  This was reaching a new level of “FREAK” that I had only read about, or seen in a Madonna video, but I never had the opportunity to engage with.  I quickly noted all available exits. 

Aaron failed to note my obvious concern, and without missing a beat he continued,
“Yeah, he’s really into getting his cock sucked.”  
At first I thought, “Who isn’t?” then I remembered to blink, furrowed my brow, and said flatly, “Really? And you can’t suck his cock with teeth?”
“Well, of course I can, but that’s not how Bruce likes it.  I know it’s a bit extreme, but it is for Bruce after all.”

Considering that I had invested the last three months listening to Aaron’s bullshit, and considering the amount of beer I had, the need to be polite evaporated.  I stood up from the booth, looked down at Aaron, and said, “Aaron, walk with me.”  I took him by his right arm, and once outside I asked, “You mean to tell me you’re seriously considering having all your teeth ripped out of your head, all in the name of cock sucking, for a man you have yet to meet face to face?”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t find this a bit disturbing?”
“No.”

There was a long, long pause.  I kept staring into his eyes in the hope that I could maybe see something that would give me some clue as to how I could ever have considered someone so twisted to be my friend.  My search was fruitless.

Aaron, was now sensing my deep concern and disbelief.  He became hostile.
“What is it?  Why are you looking at me like that!?!” 
There was nothing to say but, “I should go.”
Aaron was deeply hurt, and offended, and as I left him behind I heard him hiss,  “What the fuck would you know.  You’ve never been in love.”
I turned, and marched back to him.  The look on my face must have been frightening, as he bolted for the door to the club.  I grabbed his arm again, and spun him around to face me.
“Listen, Meg, if what you have is love I would rather remain a bitter, lonely old faggot, spending my days pissing my pants than end up like you.  Good luck with Bruce, I mean Tom, and I sincerely hope he’s all that you need him to be.”

I walked away feeling as if I had just lost 100 pounds, then a feeling of disappointment hit me.  I had completely forgot to ask Aaron about the harness.