After waiting about half an hour for Bob to meet me, I gave him back a DVD I had borrowed from him a couple of weeks ago, Four Rooms, perhaps my having watched it a sign of what my future held for me or perhaps an invocation that brought that future about, soon afterwards getting employed at a hotel. I had been through training sessions all this week with about forty other people, the inaugural cast of this hotel. Training was fun, held in a posh setting, catered with yummy food, and was with a really interesting group of young people who were fun to chat with and who I am excited about working with. The place is still not open and there is training up until that point, including tomorrow morning starting at 8.
But to get back to the original narrative, this mentioning of recent details of my life, having a job and such (still no apartment though), now taken care of, it was after I angrily handed this DVD back to Bob, annoyed that I had to wait in the chilliness of an October evening for him while underdressed for it, that I hopped on the downtown train and went to the MIX festival. I was quite late for the screening I had wanted to attend, but tried to go in anyways. I was told I needed a ticket and so went to the ticket table asking for a ticket since I had volunteered for them. They directed me to hospitality, who turned out to be Jeremy, and who I started making out with. We ducked into a little alcove off to the side of the lobby and went at it. We were soon sucking each other's dicks, licking body parts, and having a really hot time. It was when he was rimming me that I suggested he fuck me. We put things on pause to go find lube and condoms. He went in search of them and I pulled my pants back up and stumbled into the lobby to wait for him to return. There I ran into Ben, Gabriel, Richard, and several other people who were all leaving to go some penthouse party in Chelsea.
I was more than a bit off balance, really fucking horny, still in the middle of sex basically and was just waiting for Jeremy to return, but a penthouse party sounded great, as did hanging out with all my friends. I followed them since they were leaving right then, not seeing Jeremy around, and not even making it past the ticket collector after I had come all the way down to South Street Seaport to try to catch some films. Soon I was on the roof of some amazing apartment building in Chelsea, smoking joints, drinking cocktails, eating plates of food, and marveling at the incredible view of the city from there, also marveling at the unexpected unfolding of my last hour or so, that what was supposed to me going to a queer film festival turned into sex in the lobby of the festival, turned into being on the roof of some fancy penthouse apartment stoned.
We stayed there for an hour or so before heading back down to the MIX space for the festival's afterparty/sex party. There I had a chance to talk with Diego. This should have been mentioned earlier in the narrative to give this meeting some context, but it wasn't and so perhaps a bit of back story is in order. There is no need for seamlessness when you can just have endless digressions. A week or so ago at Julius' he had told me we needed to talk before proceeding further and I told him that I loved him a great deal and he said something similar. Ever since breaking up a month or two ago, things have felt more like dating then they ever did before. I have been able to unhesitatingly tell him I love him, have actually felt like I have, and have been quite smitten with him. We talk on the phone often about nothing and have been hanging out more often, and there has been lots of physical affection. So last night after he made some offhand comment, I sat him down in a chair and we talked about things, about what it is he wanted, what it is that I want. I told him that I liked him, that I wanted to have a romance with him, and that it frustrated me that he cast doubt on my seriousness whenever I had warm feelings toward him. He said he liked what we had. I asked him to define more clearly for me what exactly that is, explained that I wasn't looking for a prolonged flirtation, that this ambiguous status was only okay for me were he actually hoping it might lead somewhere else. He said that he wasn't, that he didn't want to be my boyfriend, that he didn't feel comfortable with that.
I got incredibly sad and my eyes swelled with water. Diego looked at them, seeing it, and I didn't want them to overflow so was trying to steady myself by looking at him, trying to hold it in, to not seem so fragile. It didn't work. The water started streaming down my face and I started to laugh because when one can't control their body or things in this world outside of it, it seems the only proper thing to do. I laughed a bit, trying to counterbalance how sad my eyes looked and the now depressing exchange I was engaged in. I really wanted things to work out, I liked him an incredible amount, and sadly our attempt at being friends after breaking up didn't work out - it was friendship and something more, much more - and I knew then that it was going to be very difficult to be friends with this person, that I would probably rarely see them and would probably have to curtail the one on one hanging out that I enjoyed so much, that I was saying goodbye and losing one of the closest people in my life.
I told him I was going to dance and walked away. I knocked back a couple drinks, talked with friends, and did dance, celebrated life. This guy on the dancefloor said hello. I said hello, touched him, he touched me, and I led him to some room and had really hot sex with him. We wiped the semen off of our bodies on to the fabric in the art installation that we had had sex in, black fabric covering the walls of the room, a small video monitor on a chair playing a grainy black and white loop of something. I never even looked at the video.
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