This Halloween

What am I doing?
I just watched Tales from the Hood and then I am going to BB Kings, yes the world famous blues joint, to participate in the Gong Show. I am curling my hair and preparing to be Xtra naughty. I went to church before all of this and saw a good friend. Perhaps this will balance out my night of sin, at least that is what May told me. Still, she informed me since there would be no sexual favors for money his was middle school field trip as far as she was concerned. Maybe I will party with someone who I have been speaking to on facebook IM. Either way I spent much too much money at Ricky;s. Everyday for me is Halloween but why does the holiday leave me so broke? Either way I am celebrating with my curlers, my fake eyes, and hairspray that left my hands too damn cold. xoxoxoxoxo

Rubadubdub

The puppets are in the tub. Yes we all took a bath. Sweetie Pie had an important presentation at school and May....well.....the department of health called.

While Sweetie Pie thoroughly enjoyed the scrubbing don't ask and don't tell about the red on May's teeth

 

Vogue (Madonna)

I am sad to announce the death of my friend Roger Ferrer. A few years ago when I met him, I remember being arrested by his huge laugh which could light up the room. Roger in one word was a character. He always had the scoop on everyone. Back in the day Roger had been a part of the ballroom scene. He had walked with the House of Revlon and won in the Butch Queen category several times over. Roger and his faux hawk even made a cameo in one part of How Do I Look? To me Roger was that friend who always had tales of the fast life. He had been in the midst of that nucleus where the motto was live fast and die young.

One thing I loved about Roger was his honesty. Whenever we would see someone he had beef with he would tell me right out about the beef he had with them. Or when we saw someone he knew from back in the day Roger would tell me what had transpired. I once told Roger about someone I knew who was a pathological liar. Roger laughed and said, “I could never lie like that. I am such a jerkoff I would probably screw it up.”

Roger would always tell me about the Voguing he did back in the day as a member of the ballroom scene. In addition he would also tell me about all the scams those queens used to pull. One in particular was that the ball children as they were called would lift the credit card numbers of people they knew, use them in stores, and then order the stuff they needed for their little balls. Of course the merchandise would be delivered when the rip off victim was at work and the thief and company would pick it up when the trucks came. Yes, drag queens are the reason you need photo ID when you buy things at stores with a credit card.

It wasn’t just the balls for my friend but it was the drugs as well. Roger not only sold crystal meth when it was beginning to rear it’s head in the underground ball scene, but he also used it. I remember Roger would tell me the crazy stories of the places he had been and how at one time he was even a drug connect to Angel Melendez, the victim to Michael Alig. He also told me about the partying at the Limelight before the whole bloodbath happened, and how when that transpired he switched his drug selling spot to Kinkos. Walking through Chelsea with Roger was always a trip. Someone would wave to him and he would tell me what a freak they were back in the day. Or he would tell me the dirt about the gay porn store owners because he knew them personally. Roger also knew a few gay porn stars, and one thing about him was that he was the real deal. Once a guy was running his mouth about how he was some hustler back in the day. When he left Roger turned to me and said, “Hustler huh? Uptown at Paris Duprees huh? I never saw him once and I was there.”

Unfortunately Roger also paid the ultimate price for his drug use and drug selling. After being busted, Roger spent eighteen months in prison and got released on parole. Around the time he left us Roger was about complete with this part of his sentence. He also had contracted HIV and Hep C as a result of sharing needles and the unsafe sex associated with the crystal meth lifestyle. In addition he also had a heart condition which plagued him until he passed away. As a result Roger was always in and out of hospitals. Usually, he would lose his phone again, he was always big on doing that for some reason. However, no matter where he was hospitalized Roger would always, always, always ask for me. I never knew why but he always said to someone, “Please give April my number if you get a chance. Please tell her I am here.”

It was never a problem to visit Roger in the hospital. When I did he would usually have me smuggle him in food because he detested hospital cuisine. That’s when we would gossip and often I would sneak out long after visiting hours were over. Once Roger and I were so busy talking that I stayed well after midnight and the night security guard simply chuckled and let me out. Being Roger’s friend I got to know St. Luke’s quite well. Those hospital visits were always fun in a way. Once we had a mini Vogue off where he completely creamed me. Sure, he may have been sick but once a gay man always a gay man.

Roger was indeed a gay man and always had the best advice too. Once I was seeing a guy who was becoming clingy and annoying. Roger looked at me, put his glasses to his nose and said, “Ditch the bitch and make the switch.” I still quote him to this day and always will.

One person Roger loved more than anything in the world was his little step nephew named Pumpkin. Pumpkin was the son of his brother’s girlfriend. Roger’s brother was basically acting as the child’s father though. At the time that Roger was living with his brother his task was to babysit this little boy. Every night Roger would call me on the phone rattling about how Pumpkin had said some complex word or made an association. Glowing with pride, Roger would tell me about how the child had a bright future and about how little Pumpkin was destined for great things. Roger was one who also suffered from extreme nightmares and would call me in the middle of the night panicked. Mind you he was the only one allowed to do this without me taking my hands through the phone to choke him. I would ask Roger about Pumpkin and immediately he would light up and everything would be alright.

Though Roger was gay, no question about it, he still had the macho manly streak in him. When I was with him typical of the Latino male he would walk on the outside of the street. Not to mention Roger almost always paid when we went out. He would always tell me with him women never paid. Roger would be quick to inform me unlike a lot of gay men he had dated women and also had sisters therefore it wouldn’t make him feel like a man to have me pick up the tab ever. Not to mention Roger always had an opinion about who I dated as well. Usually when Roger didn’t like the sound of them there was a reason for it. The truth of the matter was, Roger was the real deal and he could spot a fake a mile away and made no bones about it. Sometimes I wish I would have listened more. The crazy thing was at the end of the night he always got all big brother on me walking me to my door or telling me, “There are a lot of bad people out there sweetie. Get home safely.”

For as crazy as Roger could be he also was insightful and had more clarity than anyone I ever encountered when it came to speaking about what he was going through. Not to mention while even at the end Roger could not avoid the bad boys and men who were wrong for him, same as yours truly, Roger didn’t want me to share the same fate. Once I was talking shit and Roger stopped me. Gripping my hand he looked me dead in the eye and said, “See how sick I am. You don’t want this sweetie.”

Towards the end of his life Roger was a regular brunch buddy of mine in between hospital visits. We would sit outside and check out the boys rating them on a scale of one to ten. We would giggle and gossip like, or as Roger put it, “a fag and his hag.” For as ill as Roger was he dreamed of doing better things with his life. He talked about going to Aveda to become a colorist, something I thought he would have been excellent at had he lived. He also wanted to go to Paris to live for a while. When I would talk to Roger I always spoke to someone with a good head on his shoulders and a mind like a steel trap. He was someone who was much smarter than he knew he was.

One of my last encounters with Roger I had met him and we were hanging out. He had just gotten out of the hospital and was having chest pains. Being in between houses he was currently homeless and was scared to go back because he thought they would discharge him because he was faking it. The way he was clutching his chest let me knew he wasn’t. After having sushi I insisted that he go to the hospital. So I threw him in a cab, paid for it (he insisted but I told him he had bought me sushi, this one was on me) and then dropped him in the emergency room. A few hours later I got a text from him, “I had a minor heart attack. You saved my life. Thank you.”

Roger was supposed to begin cardiac rehab but he didn’t want to because instead he wanted to go to Puerto Rico. Of course he also wanted to see Niagara Falls before he died as well. We were supposed to go to the Hamptons one weekend and that didn’t quite happen. When I chastised him for being such a bad patient, and Roger had his moments trust me, he said something so profound. He said, “I am always in and out of hospitals and am sick of it. The doctors will always be there. The sunset over Niagara  Falls might not be there tomorrow.” At the time I remember being angry with him for not taking care of himself, but looking back I think he knew he was going to leave us soon and wanted to make the most of his last days. The guy was right. Doctors will always be there same as the hospitals. Go Roger.

I heard my dear friend had a massive heart attack last week and something told me to check on him. When I don’t hear from him it is never usually good. Anyway, I was busy with the career and all so it slipped my mind. But when I heard the news it hit me like a ton of bricks. For as cliché as it sounds I felt like a piece of me had gone. Being Roger’s friend made me more careful with how I handled men because when you see a friend sick with HIV and other complications you wake up quickly and become very careful. Roger also made me want to stay clean, sober, and continue to fight the good fight. His body gave out long before his spirit did. I know he was proud of me for turning my life around and he basked in the glow of the fact that I was starting to make something of myself.

Once during one of my visits to the hospital  I told him I had been a part of Fashion Week with Betsy Johnson. As I was telling the story he stopped me and said, “You always  dress like you are broke. Stop dressing like you are broke when you see me.” Before I could even protest he waved his hand like he always did. As a result I started experimenting with new looks and followed his advice and the only reception I have gotten has been positive. People ask me what happened to me as if I grew a horn or a third head. Instead it was none of those things. A kick in the ass from a gay angel made me self aware and now not only do I look better but feel better.

Today as I dawn my makeup and dress in an effort to look like I am not broke I think of my dear friend Roger Ferrer. I think of a man who was always sharp, on point, the real deal, and never hesitated to call it like it was. I also think of someone who made me look within myself and not only made me dress better, but made me a better person. As I continue my climb up the ladder called life I will always remember my friend. Just because he is dead doesn’t mean that his story should not live on.

Roger sweetheart, I know you are in heaven. I know God took you because He needs angels. While we are on the subject don’t get into too much trouble with them because like me, you always want the ones that you can’t have. On the other hand, my only request is you save me one as well as a seat in the back. That way we can gossip about people like the old days. Just do me one favor, don’t get into a fight with a drag queen. This being Earth and you being in the sky I don’t know if Verizon is ever going to cover that one.

Rest in Peace Dear Heart.

Kay

Growing up I had a good friend who lied. Kay, who grew up on the poorer side of town, or the wrong side of the tracks if you will, would lie saying that her family had all these cool possessions like a limo. Kay even told us that her uncle was buried in the wall of her house, that is why the plaster and paint were cracked. Of course then there was the big screen TV. None of it was true. Her family had no money whatsoever and they were on and off of welfare. However the lies got so bold and so big that when we were in fifth grade we disfriended her for a time. My mother, angered, explained we couldn’t just disfriend her because she was friends with her aunt. Still, the lying was just too much for all of us. We didn’t care that she was poor and had no money. At the moment I am poor and have no money. What irked us was how she lied and the frequency of it. My folks at the time sided with her because they hated my other friend Erica thinking she was a bad influence and this whole thing was her idea. So we made up with Kay.

Unfortunately we thought this would teach Kay not to be such a liar. Boy were we wrong. In middle school she joined the football team and at the time I had a public access television show. Kay came on the show and lied about starting and said she was the quarterback. Everyone in her neighborhood, stoked that she was on TV, tuned in. Much to her misfortune, so did the coaches. They did not share appreciation for her imagination and made her run until apparently she puked her guts out. The truth of the matter was that Kay was not the quarterback nor did she start. As a matter of fact she sucked so terribly she was benched most of the time. While this was a doozy, I had to give her points for creativity.

We all knew Kay was a fibber but she was only getting started. Shortly after appearing on my TV show Kay called me apologizing for being scarce over the summer. I asked her why she had kept her distance and she told me it was because the little boy that her mother brought to the football games and said was her little brother was actually her son! My mouth dropped open. I asked who the father was because I had never seen her with a man. She explained his name was Andre and he was from the city. That explained everything, an evil city kid. Kay begged me not to tell anyone and I swore upon my own grave. However it irked at me and I told my mother who told me to be nice to Kay because odds are life wouldn’t and people obviously wouldn’t when they found out the truth.

A week and a half later a girl named Amanda who I was sometimes friends with sought me out. She asked me if it was true if Kay had a child. I didn’t know what to say and then Amanda informed me Kay had told her to ask me. I told her yes because Kay had sent her to me for confirmation. Well by the end of the week everyone was talking. I felt bad for Kay and tried to seek her out. Instead of crying or being mortified she didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact everyone was gossiping in our quiet little suburban high school about how she and the mysterious Andre made a baby.

Well my friend Erica, who had a love/hate relationship with Kay because of her lying streak, cornered me angrily before English class one day. “April, that kid is her baby brother.” Erica snapped.

“What?” I asked.

“Yes. I know this because I am her neighbor. My mother and I brought food to the house when we mother was in the hospital, in labor, and couldn’t cook. Kay answered the door because it was her and her two brothers home alone.” Erica said her face red with anger.

I rolled my eyes back. While Kay was a liar why would she lie about something like this? “Look, don’t kick her when she’s down.” I countered at my friend. “You hate her and now is not the time to throw daggers, okay?”

“April, she picked you because she knows you still sort of trust her. My mother is coming later to pick me up. Ask her. She’ll back me up.” Erica informed me.

Later that day Mrs. Robertson came to pick Erica up from school. She backed her daughter’s story shaking her head. “I don’t know what Kay hopes to accomplish out of this, but it is pretty sick and I have decided I want Erica no where near her.” My mouth dropped open in utter horror. Kay had screwed up major and felt no shame about this. This wasn’t a lie to pretend she had more because her family had less. This wasn’t a lie that would make anyone cool. Yet she loved every second of it. In our group of friends we could deal with Erica’s need to be a gossip, Jessie’s need to be a slut, Kayla’s need to get in trouble with strangers on IM chat, and heck Brittany constantly putting her foot in her mouth. But this was the straw that broke the camels back. From that day forward she was done.

My mother meanwhile asked her aunt about what was up with Kay and her son because she had seen Kay come to our house over the years and was concerned. Kay’s aunt, who was the nicest lady in the world, said to my mom, “Anne, that’s her baby brother. You are the sixth person who has asked me today. I don’t know why this child feels the need to lie.” My mother was also shocked and angered informing me Kay was in a bad way and I was not to hang around her anymore. She and Erica’s mother even talked later about this both coming to the consensus that there was some mental health stuff going on.

Kay wasn’t done just yet though. In tenth grade, two years after I cut her out completely, she told everyone she and her then boyfriend were expecting twins. On the school computer, in the midst of her multi-media class, Kay doctored up a picture of a sonogram. Showing it to everyone, they all gasped in horror and awe. They asked when she was due and she gave them an exact date. Rolling my eyes back because these people didn’t know her, I told them she was running a fast one. People, who didn’t know Kay and her tricks, informed me that I was being mean. However, time passed and she wasn’t showing like a pregnant woman should. So when people confronted her, especially when they saw her smoking, Kay lied and said she miscarried. I couldn’t believe she was running the same scheme now having three fake children. I went from simply being civil to going the other way whenever she went in my general direction. For the most part, so did most of the school.

Well the next year Kay said she was preggers. Most of us that knew better shook our heads in disbelief. This girl was running the same scheme for the third time! However this time it was for real. She was showing and carried a picture of her sonogram for all the world to see. The crazy thing was, the second it became all the more real Kay began to change. She sort of became nasty in a way to most everyone. With a gigantic belly, she would bump into people in the hall. One of my friends Megan told me that she was scared to run into her because one little nudge might make her deliver. Still Kay would fearlessly swear at people if they came in her general direction, especially other girls. Our student government president got the ear full about how she was just a suck up. Meanwhile this was coming from someone who could have used some of that energy in her own life. Then there was me who got the lead in the musical that year. Kay told me the musical was a waste of time and it was “foolishness.” Yes, this is coming from the woman who got pregnant because she tricked her boyfriend and lied about going off the pill.

The further Kay got and the more real it became it was almost as if she didn’t want it, except she had wished and tried for this so much that now the kid was in her belly it was too late. Little by little, she was realizing as the father of her child wavered about whether he was going to stay or was going to go that she seriously screwed up her life. It was so telling when we had a conversation at the end of junior year. I saw her in the bathroom and hadn’t spoken to her in sometime. Just to break the ice, because being seventeen and pregnant is just awkward, I asked her what she was doing for the summer. While it wasn’t the smoothest line I didn’t want to ask her who her Lamaze partner was. Kay looked at me as if I were joking and asked, “Well having a baby.”

I didn’t want to tell her that my family had planned a trip so I could see Smith, Mount Holyoke, NYU, Barnard, Marymount, Emerson and possibly Hood. I didn’t want to tell her my dreams of being an actress and TV personality as well as a writer were beginning to take shape. I didn’t want to tell her how I was becoming skilled with puppets. I didn’t want to tell her about another writing award I won. Yet that day in the bathroom she knew that we were once friends and now we were completely strangers. In her warped quest to find something she had become totally lost, and now it was as if we had never known each other.

Kay did have her son, and her aunt, ashamed of Kay’s bad decisions, but being as nice as she was, attempted to defend her. She said Kay had straight A’s when she left school for three days because she went into labor early. My dad, who knew life would be hard for my friend, got the full scoop. I remember he said, “God bless that little girl.” He had known Kay and was saddened that her life was over. I remember talking it over with the splinter section of our eighth grade crew who agreed. For as bad as Kay lied she had gotten what she wanted and now it was going to be a nightmare for her.

And it was. When I saw her at the beginning of our senior year she looked as if she had aged ten years. Always as skinny as a reed, she had lost even more weight. Though she was only eighteen, she had somehow gotten crow’s feet by her eyes. Always a bit of a health nut and gifted runner she had now started smoking to cope. One day, since the two of us were on senior early release, she offered me a ride home. At this point she barely had any friends left at school because her life had become so radically different. I was one of the few people from the old days who wasn’t looking at her weird of giggling as she walked by. It was almost as if she were eager to recapture time and couldn’t, or eager to hold onto what was clearly lost. As she drove me home she complained about her car and how she had to share the beat up ride with her mom. I asked her why she didn’t get a new one.

With big, sad, tired eyes she said, “I would but I have a son and he costs money.” I wanted to tell Dick Tracey no shit. Kids cost money. But I couldn’t. She was already discovering on her own the fantasy of playing house versus the reality were starkly different things. And the world is very cruel to single mother’s who don’t even have a high school diploma.

Kay would marry the father of her son and eventually have two more kids with him. Of course, since she captured him by having a kid, he always felt that she had tricked him. This man of course had kids with two other women, none of which he took care of. He skipped out on them and eventually skipped out on Kay as well. A year ago she contacted me out of the blue telling me she was alone with three kids after her husband left. However now she was engaged. I asked her about him and apparently he is only “eighteen but mature for her age.” Translated, she has done the big ass fuck her on life.

Looking back at it I think when Kay started lying it was to fill in something that she felt was missing in her life. Ultimately she thought a kid would bring it to her. I think Kay started out wanting a cure for one thing and ended up with a thousand other problems. I used to detest her lying and didn’t understand it. We used to term her as bad news.

However these days if I were to see her I would ask, “Have you finally found what you are looking for? If there is a God I hope you find Him now. I am sorry for your pain.”

Seasons of Love (RENT)

I am sad to announce the recent passing of Mr. Ronald W. Tietz. For those of you who knew him, he taught both ninth grade honors history and humanities at Bethel Park High School. There are some teachers who we hate and others we simply acknowledge later forgetting. However there are few who make a direct impact and leave a lasting impression in both our minds and our hearts. Mr. Teitz was one of those people.

This man wasn’t just a history teacher, he was history. When he taught us the Declaration of Independence it was with hand motions. When he taught us Thomas Paine it was with hand motions. Then why did the colonies want to succeed from the US? Easy, the practice of mercantilism. Taking both hands to this day I mingle my fingers showing how the colonies traded amongst themselves. Still to this day I can take my thumb saying “aught oh!” The way Mr. Tietz used to. Then there was Manifest Destiny. How could we forget the projects and the posters. At the time we thought it was crazy but guess what? We all still remember.

Then there was Humanities. This was the second half of Mr. Tietz. Using hand motions he taught us the Communist Manifesto as well as John Stuart Mill. I also remember Plato and can still quote him directly. My fourth period humanities class was like a little family that year. I got to know everyone and I still talk to many of those people on facebook. One thing was for sure, we all loved Mr. Tietz.

Once during that year Mr. Tietz was sick for several days and we were beginning to get concerned. Some of the guys from the class worried that our beloved teacher was in peril almost sent a search party to his house. I remember one substitute teacher told us, “I have never met the beloved Mr. Tietz but I have never seen so many students bummed that their teacher was gone. What does this guy do to get this response?”

The answer was that he was funny, good hearted, and made learning pleasurable. Not to mention he taught us and challenged our minds in ways that benefitted us in years down the line. In addition, he was also supportive of his students in their outside pursuits. When I was on public access television, Mr. Tietz turned in. He also read my articles and not to mention he always came every year to see musical. The year I was in the Wizard of Oz Mr. Tietz was poised with binoculars in the audience. We all wondered who the man was with the specs. Then it was answered one day during study hall.

Mr. Tietz also wrote a wonderful college recommendation for my brother as well as myself. For those of us who had the pleasure to know such a wonderful individual with a vast body of knowledge and a love for teaching this is a staggering loss to all of us. My sympathies to his family at this difficult time.

Here is to you Mr. Ronald W. Tietz, to a life well led.

Reinventing April Brucker

Lately it seems like all my gays have been finding love. My roommate has a rich would be boyfriend who has just purchased a villa in Portugal. Hook me up on that program. Then there is my hairdresser friend who has been through hell and back with men. An ex escort, he has found love in the arms of a barber. It seems everyone around me is finding their soul mate.
I have been thinking about my life for the past few years and all the losers I dated. While they were losers who all were not worth the ground I walked on or the air I breathed, I still liked them nonetheless. Some of it was them not wanting to work and wanting to do all the drugs in the world. Some of it was me wanting them because they were bad. A lot of it was me settling because I didn’t think I could do any better. As a result I have a collection of degenerates that would make any mother weep with shame. I won’t list them because why bother? There are too many to count. But one does include an escaped convict.
So today I thought about it and I decided it is time to reinvent April. It is time for me to stop dating losers. I know I have said this before but lately I have been thinking that if I don’t change the dating of the losers I will always be alone. I don’t want to be alone forever. I mean granted, does anyone? Still I just don’t want to be alone and forced to be with some deadbeat. I don’t want to settle anymore.
Yes I dated certain guys in a certain phase of my life but I am out of that phase in my life. Now I want someone nice. I don’t want any of these losers who just want a meal ticket or a place to stay. Hate to say it, but they have no place in my life anymore. A drug problem isn’t attractive either and to tell you the truth, a prison record is starting to revolt me. I have dated some of the worst guys too. I thought I was hot at the time and a bragging right. However when your boyfriends all start to play connect the dots with their track marks and sort of know each other from being arrested around the same time you have to start to think, it wasn’t just them in this equation of disaster.
This phase of my life has been better than the last. Before visiting my family for my most wonderful birthday yet I went to the penthouse party of Sir Ivan. In case you don’t know him he is a musician by the name of the Peaceman and his castle in the Hamptons has been featured on VH1 a million times over. Not to mention I have been busy working and earning money as a performer, writer and artist. All and all, life is good. Tomorrow I go and film a segment for Discovery Health Network. Things are good.
Now I need a guy who is worth my talent and time to share them with. I don’t know how I will do it but I will. I have a new set of dresser drawers. I am moving up in the world.

A New York Adventure

It was a long day this past Saturday. I went to a workshop with my friend Derek. My gay Rumpelstiltskin, Derek has introduced me to many celebrity friends he has as well as other glitterati with a ton of money. I initially was not going to go, but when Rumpelstiltskin comes to reclaim payment you better not mess around. Plus this is Derek’s nickname for himself, not mine, and he made it so I could get in for free. The workshop, which ran all day, turned out to be wonderful.
However I had an early morning music video shoot the next morning for a band called Delicate Steve which my puppets were starring. May needed new lashes and I had to go to Rickys. Plus I needed new lashes for myself and new makeup. In addition May’s scalp was falling off and I needed to sew that back on. Then there was curling my hair as requested by the director and picking out my outfit. Not to mention I had to get toilet paper and trash bags. While my Phantom roommate is excellent about cleaning, he had forgotten these much needed items and I figured I was out, I might as well get them. Then there was laying my stuff out so I could sneak out without waking the guy up. A few weeks ago he remarked that I slammed the door interrupting his sleep so I have made it my business to not wake him since I am growing to like the dude.
I will admit the beginning of this previous week was a little crazy. Going home for my birthday, I had the best day ever with a Steeler win and seeing my baby cousin in his light up sneakers kicking the ball. After a bunch of presents and watching Robin Hood with Russell Crowe, I looked forward to sleep. Then at three o’clock in the morning my phone rings. My Phantom roommate was on a cleaning spree. Armed and dangerous amid dateless, he had removed the nobs to clean the oven and now it wouldn’t turn off. Squawking on the other end of the phone line, my roomie informed me that the place smelled like heat and he was freaking out. I asked him what the hell he was doing cleaning at three in the morning. I also reminded him that the first rule was don’t burn down my house when I am gone. If I could have had the power I would have reached through the phone line to strangle him at that moment. However, after the super was called everyone simmered down, no pun intended. Still we were both shaken yet bonded over Stovegate. Plus I had gotten back to the city and my apartment looked immaculate. All and all the guy was forgiven once I saw how beautiful my place looked. Not to mention once I saw him we had a good laugh and he told me his big concern was where I was going to live. Nevermind the guy could have died in an explosion because our stove is a gas stove and when it leaks it could be deadly.
So now back to Saturday, when I got home after rolling my hair I had every intention of sleeping early because I had to wake up at the crack of dawn. At two o’clock in the morning I heard my roommate coming in. My guess was that he had gone to blow off some steam at the Ritz, a gay bar he frequents up the street from me. Plus he had two shows that day so I figured he was tired as the door slammed. Closing my eyes to go back to sleep I heard footsteps coming to my side of the apartment and I heard my roommate whisper, “April! April!”
Rolling over I looked up to see him. Most women look at six feet three inches of lean cut muscle and think,"Come to mama," especially since my roommate is good looking. However I know there is no chance in hell of anything happening and I was a little agitated he woke me. So I asked, "Don't tell me you got into another cleaning accident."
“Relax, it’s just me and thats not the case. Anyway, I saw this set of drawers at the bottom of the stairs and seeing that you put your clothes on shelves which is an interesting arrangement. Lets face it April, you need those drawers more than anyone I know.” It is true, I keep my clothes folded on shelves. The arrangement is chaotic but it somehow has worked for the past three plus years.
Staring up at him I asked, “Why don’t you take them?”
“Oh I have a set.” He said referring to the plastic drawers I gave him upon moving in. “However my dear you need those.”
“How the hell am I going to move them?” I asked my roommate who ironically was waking me up after I had planned my early morning so carefully as not to stir his sleep.
“Easy, you have me to help you. Come on, lets do it now before anyone steals them.” My roommate snapped his fingers which is gay speak for get the hell up now and lets move it. Mobilizing, I threw on my sneakers and was ready for some middle of the night impromptu heavy lifting.
Following him down the stairs I felt like I was in a weird dream because I was adhering to the orders of this still almost stranger that I had met on craigslist only weeks earlier. While my previous roommate was seemingly more of an open book, this guy was almost the opposite coming and going as he did letting bits and pieces out as he felt necessary. Its not better or worse, just different. As I get to know him I see it is a good different, but nonetheless, my old roommate wouldnt have woken me up to move furniture in the midst of the night!
Apologizing for the curlers in my hair, because I had no intent upon being awoken by a gay roommate who had chosen to do my sidewalk shopping for me, I told him to pardon my appearance. Not that it mattered but I wasnt expecting the neighbors to see me rolled out of bed with curlers in hair and cold cream on my face. To which he instructed me without even giving it a second thought to “rock it out.” That made me laugh harder than I had in about a week. One thing is for sure, this new roomie of mine is a hoot.
We moved the nightstand up the stairs. Then we went back for the bigger dresser. The thing was heavier than I ever imagined. However my roommate surprised me with his strength and patience. This dude whined for weeks about how he didn’t want other people to see him working out at the gym. Now here he was lifting this effortlessly and I was a little weakling. There were several times up the four flights of stairs that I had to take a break. It didn’t feel like work at a certain point because we were laughing and joking all the way up the stairs. Mostly it was about how someday I was going to tell my grandchildren the story of their crazed uncle who I lived with to which my roomie replied, "And you will say, he was a grand old man."
When we got to my apartment I was too busy laughing and happy I had drawers instead of shelves. So I gave my roommate a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek thanking him. While he had woken me up, he had still done something kind seeing I am a pathetic wreck and needed those drawers. Plus I had to admit seeing them earlier I thought about snagging them but didnt think I could get the help, and here I had it living with me. That’s when he informed me he was the muscle of the house and that's what he was there for. I couldn’t help but laugh because this is the same man who had only left a week earlier to meet a potential future husband in a red tight fitting t-shirt with sparkles. However, I was willing to let that slide seeing that he had handled the dresser and nightstand, both made from wood that would have broken my back had I gone at this alone, with no problem.
As I drifted off to bed I thought of how my roommate had almost become boyfriends with a friend of mine weeks earlier and the guy sort of fizzled out on him which stung him a little bit. My roomie instructed me to tell my friend he had missed out on a good husband. Initially wanting to stay impartial, I have gotten to know my roomie a little and I can say what what I have seen he is an incredibly thoughtful person with a big heart and my friend was a fool to let him go. Sure my roommate could still mess up, but something tells me any guy who is smart enough to snag him will be one lucky man. Cause one thing is for sure, I do not know how long he will stick around but all and all I can say he is starting to grow on me. Sure he nearly accidentally burnt my house down, but he was cleaning which is a good deed. Sure he woke me up at two am to move a dresser, but I needed one and he was right. It was a good deed.
I went back to sleep for two more hours armed and dangerous for my video shoot. More on that in the next blog. To be continued. Love April