American Baby in The Stuff That's Not Interesting But Is The Most Interesting Stuff I'll Write

You know, I came back here for many reasons. One of them was because of my family, but the other was because of the friends that I had here. However, as I have learned again and again, those relationships aren’t what they used to be. There are ebbs and flows that change the tidal dynamics of the invisible spaces between us as people.

So I have found myself a new group of friends. Ironically, they are all straight men. And not just straight men, they are the men from whom I used to distance myself. Part of me wonders if this is another of my subconscious need to resolve the fractured relationships and estrangement I felt from straight boys when I was younger. I’m not exactly sure what the appeal of being my friend is from their standpoint, but it’s proven to be an interesting experience.

There is Kevin, the one whom I first befriended, who showed an enthusiastic willingness for me to teach him about Madonna music, “for the pussy songs”. There is also Beaux, the scary looking, tattooed bull who seems to be the alpha of the group. There’s also Ryan, the super-hot, long-haired rocker kid who can’t hold his liquor but dances like a fucking fiend. There are others, but these are the three with whom I’ve spent a significant amount of time.

These guys are all extremely promiscuous despite the fact that they have girlfriends (or kind-of girlfriends). They drink like crazy, routinely getting wasted night-after-night. They consume an alarming amount of drugs. But they all strangely have their shit together and aren’t as out-of-control as I make them seem.

Is that what I see as so appealing? To be part of that missing fraternity, to have support that extends beyond the simplicity of friendship. When one of them gets pussy, they get a high-five. I got the same high-five after the hot hippy situation. I always have led a very private life, nobody ever really knows who I’m with, what I’m doing, where I am or whether or not I need help. Am I finally reaching out and breaking down those walls that people have always told me I have built around me?

I don’t know that I have the answer to any of these questions, but I suppose that this has always been my part of the American dream. To feel apart of the great family that seems to extend and reach across the differences that we perceive. I always tried to eschew those traditions because I didn’t want to be weighed down by the pressures of being an American Baby, but perhaps that I’m actually running in the opposite direction.

Maybe, just maybe, instead of running away from something, I am running toward something.