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I am not, by any means, a very social person by nature. I am, in fact, very antisocial. I'm extremely picky about the company that I keep simply because I don't feel that being social is a constructive use of my time. I suppose that it would have been good of me to have passed high school without making any friends, but alas, I was not so lucky. I do have to admit, however, that for a small town like Blacksburg, it has an oddly eccentric selection of people. The people that I have come to befriend over the years include:
An alcoholic, writer-musician, anti-hipster hipster who frequently travels in a car with a broken radiator to far-off and poorly-planned destinations. He's a troublemaker, that one, from the first time I met him scribbling homework in class twenty minutes after it was due. The teachers signed his yearbook saying he was "a little too liberal for my likings," and he even once made an impromptu journey to Florida by air for sex, drugs, and rock and roll. A college drop out after just two weeks back in Florida and seperated from his beloved girlfriend (who then promptly dumped him for not being a Christian), he now works as a waiter and writes psychological thriller novellas while watching CSPAN. The last time I saw him, he was an utterly brokenhearted insomniac with a malfunctioning car radiator and Homer Simpson slippers that were glued to his feet. He was a rather pathetic sight.
So I promptly got us almost-killed while driving us to lunch. That livened him up a bit.
Another friend of mine: a homosexual stud muffin, pseudo quantum physician, and avid coccaine-user who is currently in the University of Pennsylvania, was going through his twenty-fourth man of the semester. I heard that he had just caught himself a fickle one, and was busy working at the knots of the other boy's resolve. At one point we discussed a possible numbering system for all the men that he had dabbled with since his official coming out of the closet. We eventually decided that it would become too much of a mouthful to say 'two thousand four hundred eighty-ninth' instead of just 'Steve.'
I asked him what his secret was over winter break, to which he replied: "Just act like you know he wants to bed you." Then he offered to give me pointers on how to give a blowjob.
Finally, the last of my best friends: a chattily and sociable bisexual wannabe and runner-up number one for Alcoholics Anonymous, currently afflicted with 'Yellow Fever' and attending Tufts University in Boston. The last time we got together was in front of a local coffee shop where he was gingerly nursing a hangover the size of Neptune. An oddly eccentric boy who has the gall of calling me weird, he promptly told me (very proudly, might I add), that ever since college, he has kissed quite a few boys. Unfortunately, none of them have managed to turn him from the firm path of heterosexuality.
He said that the facial hair was rather uncomfortable to kiss.
I told him to stop kissing boys with beards.
God, I love my friends. |
