The Gap Year: A Retrospective Look at a Year in Mediocrity

Let me paint you a quick picture: a young, fresh-faced gay male graduates from the University of Illinois with the future in front of him and no limitations in sight. Sure, he had suffered a bit of rejection, but nothing was going to keep him down. The enthusiasm and optimism surrounding him is palpable.

This person is me nine months ago, and he is an IDIOT.

The life undergraduate is a surreal experience soaked in sexual innuendo and alcohol. You graduate with a false sense of superiority, thinking that the world is your oyster. Little do you know that oyster is just waiting to clamp shut on your tiny little torso at any moment.  Damn you oyster for tempting me with your stylish pearls.

Luckily, the skills you gain throughout your college career are extremely useful. FALSE. I’m sorry, but knowing how to hook up with three people in the same evening, control your black outs as to appear not blacked out, and dominate at drinking games will not be useful in your adult life. Well, at least not your professional adult life. I’m sorry I party?

So, seeing as I entered the real world without legitimate skills I ultimately screwed myself into a gap year: a year during which you work for the man at minimum wage. I could no longer work at my retail job with the sense of superiority I once had. I couldn’t say to people, “Oh, this is just my side gig while I finish up school. Look how self important and better than this I am.” I was officially a retail gay and turning more into a stereotype than I ever cared to be.

Seeing as I was working for a pittance, I also had to take a second job as a hotel heiress, meaning I work the night audit every other weekend at a hotel. Do not ask me why I thought it was a good idea to work on the weekends overnight. This is a terrible idea. Like the worst ever. Under no circumstance should this be done or even considered.

Now, this wouldn’t be too terrible, except for the hours of BOTH of my jobs (which scarily almost turned into careers) are awful. I work in retail from 5am ‘til 2pm every weekday and then at the hotel from 11pm ‘til 7 am on weekends. I basically have just kissed my Circadian rhythm goodbye. I miss it, and I treat it as “the one that got away.” On the weekends, I sometimes forget what time it is appropriate to brush my teeth and wash my face. Thank goodness that this has only increased my rugged good looks and charm…

Now, if the gap year teaches you anything, it’s how much your life can blow. During the holiday season, I worked sixty + hour weeks. I did not see my friends or family, and I basically worked or slept through every holiday (both official and drinking) of this past calendar year.  And don't worry, this menial labor isn't too demeaning when you graduated cum laude from a top school with a degree in molecular and cellular biology.

Throw in an ill fated relationship with the craigslist killer and some auto troubles, you have me riding my bicycle to work every morning at 5am with a little bit of emotional damage (cue Damaged by Danity Kane). That gap year can really kick you when you are down my friends.

But don’t worry, this story has a happy ending. I have just recently been accepted to graduate school. The gap year has an end in sight, a light at the end of the tunnel.  The most satisfying part of this will definitely be leaving both of my jobs, especially since we are coming on the busy season in the hotel. Ultimate gratification for real.

This guy is going back to college a little older and a lot wiser.

Robin Hood and His Merry Men: A Sequel

The Lifeguard and I were alone. The night appeared to be eventful but over.

I have a feeling that this is how people who haven't experienced a tornado before must react:

"O man, I'm safe. That storm ruined my life, but it's finally over. I will never have to go through anything like that again. O wait, I AM IN THE EYE OF THE STORM!! We are just halfway done with this beast." *PANIC*

I was in my own personal tornado (soaking in a false sense of security), and things were about to get worse.

Remember how we had received a ride home earlier in the evening? Remember how I scampered off with two homosexuals leaving the driver alone and helpless? Well, you should, because the Driver will become a key player in the second half of this story.

Let me just start by saying that the details on this part of the evening are slightly...muddled.

I remember being outside of my apartment wearing pajama pants and a cardigan (I decided to forgo a bottom layer for unknown reasons). The Driver seemed to emerge from the All Hallow's Eve mist ominously surrounding my apartment. Now, I must have had a conversation directing him to my location. This has been mentally misplaced on my part.

I invited him into my apartment. I thought that having another person there would ease the awkward situation previously created by Uncle Sam and the Lifeguard. We all took our places on the couch. The Lifeguard was seated in the center with the Driver and I on opposite sides of him.

I decided that the film Donnie Darko would be a good viewing choice. I have since realized that Donnie Darko is not a good film and that I mostly enjoy Jake Gyllenhaal brooding in all that is 80's adolescence.

Well, the film obviously was not that entertaining, because the next time I looked over to my left, I saw some serious fellatio action underneath a blanket.

WHAT. THE. HELL?

I think this the point at which I called my friend Amy. The whole recording is muffled except for two words, "madame" and "brothel".

I had apparently opened a whore house in my small apartment, pimping out the Lifeguard to any gay male who happened to stumble in. I COULD NOT handle the situation, especially once Uncle Sam had reappeared to call on his shower buddy.

I believe the night ended in an emotional plea on my part to have the Lifeguard think about his boyfriend (who was sick in bed, most likely dying). It went over really well, as soon afterward the Lifeguard and Uncle Sam merrily pranced to another location.

I woke up the next morning lacking both my phone and a sense of faith in the homosexual way of life.

Happy Halloween?

The following porno names have been attributed to the above evening:
Robin Hood and His Merry Men
All Hallow's Beej
Uncle Sam Wants You
Gaywatch

P.s.  I think we can all agree that the most disturbing part of this evening is that I did not get any action. AT ALL.

Blog Inappropriate?

So, I have realized that an unsightly number of people in my life read my blog. Therefore, I have began to censor myself somewhat needlessly. That ends here with the following tale of scandalous sexuality and delightful "this could only happen to me" awkwardness.

The story begins on October 30th, 2009. It was unusually warm October. I remember because I was debating on whether to even wear shorts underneath my Robin Hood frock or to just go for tights alone. After the realization that if I even raised my arms the slightest bit I would be fully exposed to the general public, I wore the shorts.

To give a general picture of my costume, I wore a jaunty hat (that always seemed to fall to the side of my head in a playful, fun way that made me super approachable), a green frock with black plastic detailing on the sleeves and bottom, black basketball shorts, bright green (and mostly transparent) tights, and tie up leg warmers with similar detailing as the frock. My costume also included a rapier that I used to both stab unsuspecting passersby and take beer shots out of its base.

Actual conversation I had with someone that night:

Me: "Are you sad? You look kinda sad."
Girl: "No, I'm fine."
Me: "Are you sure? Because if you were sad, you could take shots out of the base of my sword with me."
Girl: "I am sad. Please let me see your sword." (JUST REALIZED THE DOUBLE ENTENDRE!!!)

Anyhow, these details are just adding to the imagery of the evening. You know I'm quite the story weaver.

So, that night is when I ran into a once potential hookup with whom nothing had come to fruition. I saw him at the party I was attending, walked up, and said, " You look like someone I know, but he moved to California. So, it couldn't be you."

His response: "Marty, you are an idiot. It is me."

We had a small discussion about his current boyfriend (who he was visiting) that was completely irrelevant to my life. Therefore, I zoned out the majority of the conversation and entertained myself by speaking in a British accent and swordplay.

End scene. (Not really end of the scene. Other events of that night include crashing a party with a pumpkin I had just met and losing my cellular device in a random's car.) However, move on to the next night, October 31st, 2009.

I am without cell phone, still hungover from the previous evening. I had lost the basin aspect of my sword, which would mean no more glamorous and attention/popularity gaining beer shots.Also, a cold front had moved in. I should have known my night would go awry by these foreshadowing components.

My friend Amy ventures to my apartment dressed as Robin from Batman and Robin. We were actually an unexpected couples costume that most people did not begin to understand. I was Robin Hood, and she was Robin, which effectively made us Robin and Robin. Great Couples costume or the greatest?

As we begin the festivities for the evening, I receive a facebook chat from the gentleman of the previous evening. He shall be referred to as Lifeguard for the remainder of the story (These names have been chosen based on costume. This is just a precaution for when my blog blows up even more, and I get that book deal. Nbd.) He chatted me wanting to know my whereabouts and plans for this fine All Hallow's Eve. He told me that his boyfriend had taken ill, and therefore, he was without plans for the night. I invited him out. LITTLE DID I KNOW. LITTLE DID I KNOW.

Fast forward to the bar. We run into a past hook up of mine Uncle Sam, who apparently had been hitting on the Lifeguard basically in front his boyfriend the entire night. The lifeguard's only request was that I keep them separated for the majority of the evening. Now, believe me when I say that the minute this request was made the Lifeguard immediately began flirtatious behavior with Uncle Sam.

Brown out starts now.

Open on me in a car with Uncle Sam, the Lifeguard, and three other gentlemen who shall remain nameless at the moment. I at this point in my college career had begun yelling the word "afterhours" at the end of every bar night. This would result in many a random entering my apartment and partaking in the festivities. This was the cast of the afterhours for this evening: two thirty year old gay men (one of whom is my friend), the driver of the vehicle, US, and LG (abbreviated for ease).

In a twist of fate, the car broke down at a busy intersection on campus. I jaunted away from the vehicle yelling something about having to meet my friend Amy. Only two of the five men followed me: Uncle Sam and the Lifeguard. Now, at this point, I begin to realize that something may be happening between these two. My drunken haze had distracted me from the obvious flirtation between them, but it was coming to the forefront more and more. Enter Amy who had come to gather her belongings. All she told me is that I was mouthing the words "Help me" to her as she left.

The flirting hit its peak when the Lifeguard asked if he could use my shower. Not thinking about the consequences of someone entering the shower, I obliged.

What's the worst that could happen? Just think about your answer to this question...

Okay. So, you have probably deduced that Uncle Sam moments asked me if it was okay for him to get into the shower as well.

US: "So, would you mind if I got into the shower too?
Me: "Wait...WHAT?"
US: "I'm going to get into the shower."
Me: "What. Is. Happening?"

I was literally just standing in the bathroom staring at the motions behind the shower curtain. I could not look away. It was like a really graphic accident or a terrible pornography. O wait, THIS IS JUST MY LIFE.

The Lifeguard kept yelling for me to get into the shower despite protests from Uncle Sam. At first I resisted, but then I realized what I needed to do.

After some drunk reasoning as follows:

1) The Lifeguard wants me in the shower
2) Uncle Sam does not want me in the shower
3) I do not want to be in the shower
4) Due to these two volatile reactions to me being in the shower, if I enter the shower this situation will diffuse itself.
5) I am sloppy enough to think that #4 actually makes sense.

I crossed the threshold and entered the no man's land (which ironically was filled with men) of the shower. My only weapon being insane amounts of awkwardness. Luckily, it was the only thing I needed. Within one minute, the situation had been resolved. Uncle Sam left immediately afterward, and the Lifeguard and I were left on our own for me to awkwardly remind him of his boyfriend. Did you forget that he had a boyfriend? BECAUSE I SURE DIDN'T.

Inebriated Marty - 1
America - 0

Well, doesn't that seem like a tidy little ending. It gets so much worse...

To be continued...