“Why would you do that?” my friend Chris asks me, with a distinct hint of judgment in his voice.
“Because I’m a humanitarian…not since Mother Theresa has there been such compassion shown for one’s fellow man”
“I didn’t think he was gay though…” Chris says.
“No one is 100% gay or straight dude”
I want to expound on the Kinsey spectrum theory, but this is a pretty good story.
Melissa, my heterosexual life partner and I had been drinking at 147 all night. 147 was pretty low budget, but it was next to the restaurant we worked at on the walking mall. Plus, their main bartender liked me, so sometimes I’d get a free shot. Here’s where I’ll thank my parents for sending me to business school.
Mel and I stayed on the patio most of the night because I’d snorted just a tiny bit of heroin and kept getting dirty looks from the barback for taking little naps at the bar. (You’re a barback, obviously you make poor decisions too bro)
So we are sitting outside smoking and this guy Stanley walks up to us. I already know Stan from AA, so I’m surprised to see him at the bar. “Oh God” I think, “he’s here to ‘save’ people. I look down and see that Mel is wearing shoes for once instead of sandals which is good because we may end up having to run.
That’s when I note that Stan is drinking a beer and actually seems pretty wasted. Nothing warms my heart like watching a former advocate of the 1930s temperance movement enjoy a delicious drink and discover the true meaning of a spirit-ual experience.
I tell him to sit down and join us. He spends the next three hours hitting on Melissa which doesn’t bother me. Stan’s not very interesting sober, and being wasted doesn’t make things much better. The heroin is also good for once in this gross little town, and I keep falling asleep.
There are things on my mind as well like ‘Will Shaun ever talk to me again?’ and ‘Was attorney/girlfriend serious about giving her soda machine back?’. Mel per usual is 100 percent not interested in a hot stranger. This dude is relentless though, and it’s pretty fun to watch.
Anyways, it gets late and Mel and I both know that eventually one of us will accidently answer out phones when our boss calls tomorrow afternoon looking for us, so we decide to head home. The fun fort is just a few blocks from the walking mall, and we leave on foot. Stanley decides to follow us home. I’m not even sure how he made it the four blocks because he could barely stand or talk at this point.
Back at the fort, Mel and I enjoy making of Stan to his face until we both get bored and retire to our respective bedrooms. Stanley obviously can’t take the hint because of the alcohol or lack of breeding, and he follows Mel into the master bedroom still trying to hook up with her.
She finally gets him to leave her room but only by promising to call him in the morning. He writes his number down on the back of a receipt with a green crayon and goes to back to the living room where Mel throws my Elon blanket on one of the couches.
She’s giggling when she walks into my room. “You have to see this” she says, handing me the receipt Stan wrote his number on. It looks almost exactly like this:
“StaDley?!” I scream through laughter.
“I guess he forgot his name, and then briefly forgot his own phone number” Mel says, collapsing on my bed in a fit of giggles.
When we finally regain control I ask her “do you think people can actually aspirate and die on their own vomit, or if that’s just a myth they tell middle schoolers to keep them from having fun?”
“No that’s real, but I am sure he’ll be fine”
Mel returns to her room, and I try to fall asleep as I relentlessly text Shaun and he ignores me. Sleep, as usual, remains elusive, and Mel has the dog, so I’m lonely. I wander into the living room and StaDley is still awake on the couch one eyeing a movie on Netflix.
“I’m bored, come hangout with me”
You can probably figure out what happened next. The details are irrelevant, but it was hot, and I fall asleep soon after getting off. I make StaDley return to the couch.
A week later I’m at an AA meeting at Edgehill (I was still trying to keep up appearances), and I see StaDley smoking outside.
“Why’s he here?” I whisper to my friend Chris.
“He just started the day program…I guess he relapsed”
I start bouncing up and down with excitement as I relate to Chris what happened a week ago. He looks at me with a mixture of confusion, amusement, and disgust. I end the conversation with Chris by saying “I think it finally happened man”
“I got to be someone’s rock bottom”
Apparently StaDley is still sober, and I really hope he mentions me during his anniversary speeches at AA.
You’re welcome StaDley!