Can we talk?

The royal blue trimmed screen of Microsoft Word is my lighting source. I am in a quiet apartment in Wicker Park at 1:18 AM. My roommate is sleeping. The whole world is sleeping.

What would it be like if someone else was here with me? Not my roommate, A boyfriend sleeping beside me.

Pausing to light a Camel Light.

Have I missed that boat? David Sedaris didn't have a boyfriend until his late twenties. I still have time.
But I am not David Sedaris. Clearly.

Really, what would it be like to have a boyfriend here, a man, a guy sleeping behind me on my bed while I do my homework? It's hard to answer because I feel like I don't fit the mold.

I am twenty eight. I am supposed to be out of college by now. I am supposed to be a smartly dressed gay man, wearing square toed shoes, riding the el to my office. When I get there I am supposed to be the fun loving gay man that all the office ladies love, the "Will" to their "Grace." On the way home, I am supposed to make plans on my cellphone for the evening with my group. We will go to a nightclub that has a one-word name taken out of a science glossary, perhaps "Catalyst," "Theory," or "Inertia."

It's at one of these nightclubs that I should have met my man. The two of us would be from the same socioeconomic class, have similar haircuts and body types. Everything about us groomed, trimmed, cleaned and polished. Not a nose hair or DVD out of place.

But I am still sitting in my messy room, listening to whoever it is that I choose to have a parasocial relationship with at the moment. Carrie Fisher or Madonna or Robert Downey Jr. or Oprah or David Sedaris or Conan O'Brien or Joan Rivers on QVC hawking jewelry. These are my friends. This is my group. Cry me a river.

Every once in awhile, there is glimmer of hope, a spring leaf that starts to sprout from a branch. A meeting over coffee when I'm particularly funny with my cigarette smoke swirling around me. A connection to a wonderfully sexy and complicated person who I know I could spend years trying to figure out.