(a parody, for the uninitiated)
Not only that, I’ve lost all faith in celebrities. I dreamed of dating one, or at least being friends with one, but now I wonder: are they all assholes?
So I arrive at the airport, in my AMAZING O-Town T-shirt, waiting for Chris to pick me up (as we had planned). And I waited. Then waited some more. I called him on his cell. No answer. I was getting really worried. I was in Salt Lake City, ya’ll. Everyone was looking at me like I was the only gay person in the airport. Those Mormons may look nice on the outside, but I could feel their thoughts. Every one of them was calling me “fag.” I couldn’t hear them, but I knew that’s what they were thinking.
Feeling alone and vulnerable, I searched for some comfort. After spending two hours and $80 at Chili’s, Chris called. “Now who are you again?” “I thought I was your new boyfriend, but I guess I was wrong!” He sighed and giggled and acted like he was joking. Said he couldn’t be at the airport because he was being interviewed by someone from Out magazine. Take a cab, he said.
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe in us. So I took a cab; it cost me like $120. He lived with his grandmother in the middle of nowhere in some poopy trailer.
This mean old woman answered the door. I told her I was here to see Chris. She screamed for him. No answer. After a few minutes she invited me in and pointed me to his bedroom.
“Better knock first,” she said.
So I did. And I knocked again. No answer. Finally, I cracked open the door. And there was Chris masturbating on a Web cam. When I announced my presence, he didn’t stop. He kept on until well, you know. I didn’t know what to do.
His walls were covered with Britney and Ashley Angel posters, so I felt a little better. When he finally turned around he told me I looked fatter than I do in my pictures.
I was speechless. Bravely, I opened my mouth. “What did you say?” “You’re fat!”
How could he be so mean? How could I have ever fallen for someone with such little regard for my feelings? Then he told me, “you can stay here, but I don’t want to see you naked.” Don’t worry, asshole!
I needed to escape. But I was in the middle of the desert in some trailer. He said he was going to an orgy later that night and that I could come but would have to sit in the car.
I just wanted to go home. “Take me to the airport … now!” I demanded. He was like, yeah, that’s probably a good idea.
We listened to Britney’s new CD the whole way there. Fortunately her beautiful voice drowned out my tears. That asshole didn’t even care. He was too busy singing along, looking at himself in the rearview mirror every five seconds. When we got to the airport, he said nothing but “have a nice trip.”
I was numb. Before I could tell him how I felt he sped away. And I had to spend the night in the airport because I couldn’t catch a flight until early the next morning. By the time I left Utah I had spent $120 on a cab and $257 at Chili’s. I felt so sad. Maybe it was the cheese fries. More likely it was my broken heart.
I gave up everything for him — I’m still on leave from my job at Initech, and they’re like in no hurry for me to come back. I’ve never felt so alone.