I will Survive

Mission 1. Hook up with someone as old as my mom (54) and as young as my sister (20) in a month.
Mission 2. Live a completely gay lifestyle (without the gay sex) for a month.
Mission Three: Live without an apartment for a month.

His name is Evan. I’ll call him “E” so I can pretend to be like the guys on Entourage. Truthfully, I challenge anyone to say they love Jeremy Piven more than I do. That dude steals the show. “Tonight, I’m going to punish my wife.” Brilliant.

I’m all over the place today. Totally giddy with excitement. That’s because I get to meet my Europal named Evan. He’s flying in to LAX tonight, I’m picking him up at the airport, driving him to my place and handing off the key. I can’t believe I’m really doing this. This is really strange, and I probably should not even say this, but what I’m feeling inside can only be equated to the feeling you get when you’re about to score with a girl. That nervous, tingly feeling when you know it’s in the bag.

The last time I felt like this in a non-sexual environment was driving across country to school. I was armed with a AAA Triptic that helped me find campgrounds along the way. I had no idea where I was going to land each night, but I was happy to just move forward. Christ, I haven’t even let the door hit me on the ass yet, and already I feel like I’m back twelve years, free to challenge myself however I see fit. Free to sleep where the wind takes me. This is going to be a good ride.

Yet, as much as I am excited about the next month, I am also a bit sad about leaving my place. I got that same tinge of regret when I left my parents on the porch to come 3,000 miles away to study. I knew I would never come back as the same person. I knew I had to say goodbye.

I’m not sure how much I will be able to post. I will bring my laptop to the mall, hit up the library and the Corner Bakery (great bagels, free wi-fi). I guess I need to get a card for my laptop. I’ll put that on my list. Pick up Evan, get a wifi card. Got it.

I have established a few ground rules for myself. First, I cannot stay for more than three nights at any particular place: friend’s houses, my car, the park. I also need to shower at least every other day during the work week. I can just hit up the gym or shower at the middle school after my basketball league. That should be no problem. I also cannot let anyone know what I’m doing. I have a few ideas to ease my transition, and this weekend I’ll be in Vegas, so I will be mooching some floor space there as well. Love the Vegas.

But for now, I need to say goodbye to my apartment. Well, actually it’s a condo, but I think that sounds so lame to say. So 90’s lame. I’ll just call it my place. Anyway, my place is pretty sweet. It is one of the smartest investments I have ever made. I got it right out of college and fixed it up myself. It’s pretty big, too, so Evan and his Eurobuds will be pretty stoked by the environs. I even cleaned it yesterday, and bought those guys some beer.

My giddiness is starting to get replaced by sentimentality. I hope these guys don’t fuck my place up. Because it’s more than just my habitat, its walls are filled with memories. My grandpa had left me some money when he died. I used some of that as a down payment. The rest I had saved since I was a kid. All the jobs I had and the people that helped me get this place are as much a part of here as I am.

My dad was pretty good about establishing a work ethic. My first job was playing an elf. There was a Santa guy down the street that would go to people’s houses on Christmas and drop off presents that were left on the porch for us to bring in. Kids would sit on his lap and I would hold the goods. I always resented him because his suit was so much better than mine. My beard was like a cotton ball. His was like natural hair. It wasn’t fair.

We went other places as well, even got to ride in a helicopter (except I don’t remember it). I only knew it because I saw a picture with me next to it. My name was Willy the Elf, and I adorned the green suit every Christmas season until my body outgrew my spirit. Then I was cast aside, like all the other overgrown elves before me.

After that, I taught swimming, mowed lawns, was a ski lift operator, lifeguard, waiter and retail guy. This was all before my 18th birthday. Half the money from there was put in a fund for my first house. My dad figured that he could swing college for me, but didn’t want me to waste all the cash. I hated him at the time, but every night when I look around, I thank him.

But as much as I love this spot, I need some distance from it too. It is truly another thing in my life that is above my means. I truthfully couldn’t afford to live in my building if I had to buy today. I just bought at the right time. When people see it for the first time they either think I am a trust fund kid, a drug dealer or am in some way related to Rob Lowe, the actor. No shit. I usually tell them I’m his brother. But my mom and dad could only agree on two boy’s names, Rob and Chad, and they decided to name us both Rob. Hmm, and I wonder why people sucker punch me.

So tonight’s the night when Rob Lowe steps out of his safety net to experience the real world. The world that is not defined by lines of sexuality, but rather by lines of survival. Wish me luck.