Meditations of a Gadfly

Part IX: The one with the joke

Part X: The one with the bottle

Part XI: The one with the status

Since before this story began, I had a subtle desire for my family. After winter break though, my subtle desire had turned to deep longing. The only real thing that had kept me from transferring schools was knowing that at least I had my best friend, Zach, in Savannah. The demise of our friendship was the final straw, cementing my decision to transfer schools. For the most part, following the soda bottle incident, Zach and I had gotten along. We did not speak to one another, which helped out a lot. I will not lie and say everything was peachy, there was a decent amount of tension; the same as if you forced Obi-Wan and Darth Vader to live together. However, I was determined to keep the peace my last few months in Savannah. On virtually every occasion that a problem did arise, I took the high road. I refused to put my friends in the middle of our feud and allow them to be pawn in our game, as Zach and Carson had. I knew that is what would happen if I retaliated. Our de facto arrangement of universal indifference toward one another and my Gandhi-like nature worked brilliantly. There was less than a week left in the school year, I only had one final in Statistics, and an oral presentation for my Spanish class left. The rest of my classes had already had their finals, and by Tuesday I would be finished with this year from hell. After the year I had, I decided that I wanted to go out with a bang; one last celebration of the good times, before I left Savannah for good. Posting about this exodus on a Facebook countdown till I left had caused me some problems. I only had six more days left and I posted a status celebrating this and saying, “I want to go out with a bang.” When Carson saw this status—via a minion he had created for Farmville since I had blocked both Zach and him—he took it literal and freaked. He and Zach reported my misread terroristic threat to housing and subsequently I was reported to University Police. It was their last diabolical attempt to screw me, before I was freed from my own personal hell. I had already talked to two UPD officers the morning of my Statistics final, when they woke me to make sure I was not going to go homicidal. Then met with the Director of Housing after my final, during which I refused to promise him not to harm myself, anyone else, or their property. Because of this refusal, he wanted me to speak with the Chief of Police the next day.

In the morning, I woke well rested, even though I barely slept. I had my usual feeling of dread at first, but then remembered that the cause of my dread no longer lived under the same roof. When Zach and Carson had reported me to Housing, they were forced to move out—for their protection. There was no one left to cause me strife, and a state of bliss fell over me like I had not felt in almost a year. The ecstasy was short lived, as I remembered what lay ahead of me today. In my sheer delight of having inadvertently rid my apartment of the gruesome twosome, I had absentmindedly forgot about my Spanish oral presentation that day and scheduled to meet with the University Police Chief during the allotted time for our class to meet. I had made the decision to go to my Spanish class, my grades were more important than that crap, and hoped that the Chief understood.

The Case of the Two Gay Roommates Part XI: The one with the status

Part IX: The one with the joke

Part X: The one with the bottle

The argument that we had about the empty bottle of soda was the last time either of us said a word to the other. Unless you count the time, I walked in the front door and accidentally pinned him behind it. I said, “My bad,” I guess technically that was the last time I ever spoke to him. Everything was going well though. John, Laura, Morgan, and I were closer than ever following Zach and Molly’s betrayal after the soda bottle incident. I had said most of what they accused me of, but it was all misconstrued to make me look like an evil monster. I could have retaliated, but I was not going to turn my friends into pawns of our game. I had previously borrowed Zach’s car to get my medicine, but since the fall out Hunter and John had been assuming the responsibility. I was thankful, but mostly I enjoyed the opportunity to get out of the apartment, and away from them. I still miss Zach, but with the combined force of John and Hunter, it was rare.

When I was leaving the hospital at the end of winter break, I had first thought about transferring schools. I wanted to be somewhere closer to home, closer to my family. Once I got back to Savannah and everything settled down, I was not so sure that I still wanted to leave. Yes, I still missed my family but at least in Savannah I had Zach, which at the time was close enough to family. Then we had our argument about the joke and I really started thinking hard about leaving. I started looking into schools closer to home, talking more to my parents about it, talking to John and Hunter about it; but still I was not certain. I did not want to make a rash decision that would affect the rest of my life. It was not easy by any means; Savannah was a home to me, Armstrong was a refuge, and my friends were like family. I was not certain I could leave all that behind. However, I could not make this decision because I was uncomfortable with change; I had to make this decision for me. Finally, after a while, I made up my mind. I could not stay any longer, my desire to be around my family far outweighed my fear of change. Late one night in April, I finally did it, I applied to the University of West Georgia. I still was uncertain, but I had to, the time had come for me to leave Savannah.

The Case of the Two Gay Roommates Part X: The one with the bottle

Part IX: The one with the joke

The first shots of the war had been fired. I had stupidly made a joke about it not being rape if you say surprise. Personally, I did not think that much of it and if anything, it was offensive because of its lack of humor. Zach thought it was not funny for another reason though. He viewed it as malicious joke aimed directly at him and took personal offense to it; as he did anytime the word was mentioned in conversation. I know most people do not have regular conversations about the subject, but anytime the word ever came up Zach would get pissy. That was not the problem though, or at least my problem with him. I was mad at Zach because he had admitted to saying the same joke, and then alleged that I had been mean to Carson when I had been nice to him all semester. Zach was once a good moral person, but he had changed so much in the last few months that he was no longer the person I once knew. I never wanted it to come to this, but he left me no choice.

Call it foresight if you want, but in the days following the joke incident I was glad that a small bar now resided in my closet. I made good use of the copious amount of liquor I had returned with from my brother’s house. I went on a weeklong binge of drunkenness, to numb the pain and calm my nerves to avoid further aggravating the situation by going off on Zach or Carson. I would have liked nothing more than to yell at one of them, especially Zach. In my mind, I played repeatedly what I would say, but never did. I had chosen to take the high road, the best road for my other friends. If I was to initiate conversation, it could pan out either two ways. First, everything could go back to the way things were before, a one-lane road with me always pulling off to the side to let every time Zach and I met head-on. Alternatively, neither of us could get over and we have a major head-on collision possibly resulting in many fatalities, least of all our friendship. Instead, I opted for the other option, I was going to wait him out, make him come to me. Surely, he would see the wrongs of his ways, especially with me self-destructing. My drinking binge was not only a form of self-medication, but it had an ulterior motive. If there were even a slight bit of my old friend left, he would take pity in my downward spiral and try to help me; otherwise, if I were wrong he would leave me to self-destruct. It seemed perfect in my mind, but reality is often far from ideal.

The Case of the Two Gay Roommates Part IX: The one with the joke

It was a new year and I had a new outlook. Upon my reluctant return to Savannah from winter break at the Winter Cottage, my name for my parent’s Alabama house, I made a sincere internal promise to myself to genuinely try to be nice to Carson. Not only because I felt it may help easy some of the tension in Zach and my friendship, which it did, but also because I had realized the errors of my ways and after all, Carson was human and deserved to be treated like one. For the first time since the Faithful Night, our apartment was almost back to normal and tension free; which was due in no small part from me ignoring all but the most serious transgressions made by either Zach or Carson

At some point early on in the semester, Carson fell ill. I had always been a natural born caregiver for my family whenever they did not feel well. Like it or not, living with someone for almost a year makes you view them almost like family. Ergo, when Carson got sick it was only a shock to him that I was the one who actually gave a damn. I routinely check on him, I think I even made him soup on one occasion, and got onto John and Zach when they were loud playing hallway soccer—I was even shocked when I did the last one. Even when I heard about Hunter telling Carson’s mom, who was completely in the dark, about the whole situation and her son being gay I could not even enjoy it. Okay, maybe I did enjoy it a little, but I was still pissed off at Hunter for doing that. It was not his place to tell Carson’s mother and that act began somewhat of a war.

The Case of the Two Gay Roommates Part VIII: The one with the break

Winter break was in about a week and all of the tension within our apartment had come to a head. Zach and I had gotten into an argument and I had said something that I should have never said; I had called him—or Carson, I am not sure—a faggot. How could I have done something like that? I did not really think that of either of them, I only had said the first thing that came to mind that I knew would do the most damage. I had been depending on Zach for transportation since my minivan, which I affectionately called Big Blue, has broken down the summer before. Because of our argument, Zach had told me that I needed to find another ride home for winter break. He had crossed some invisible line, and threatened me with not being able to see my family. How could he have done something like that? He knew how important it was to me to see them, how much stress I had been under lately, how much I needed a break. Old Zach would have never pulled a stunt like that.

Now I could be stranded in Savannah over winter break. Christmas is not that important to me anyways, for the most part, I cannot stand the superficial nature of the whole celebration, but I wade through it for one reason, to see my family. My Grandpa was diagnosed with lung cancer a few months before and I had not seen him in a long time, making this trip home for the break even more important to me. First, almost immediately after our fight, I called my mum and told her that I might need her to come and get me. I told her the basics of what had happened, not going into the details of Zach’s sexual orientation. She told me that if it came to it, that either she or my brother would come get me, but I needed to try to find a ride home first, even if it meant apologizing to Zach and begging him to take me. I hated to inform her, but that was never going to happen. I have always been excessively stubborn and too prideful to do something like that. Nonetheless, I did look for another ride home. My choices were somewhat limited though. After you singled out the people I was well enough acquainted with to be comfortable to ask for a ride home, I was left with a rather small pool.

The Case of the Two Gay Roommates Part VII: The one with the wall

Zach and Carson were officially in a relationship together. Although I did not like it, Carson being my arch nemesis and all, I had agreed to support them. I had once asked Zach if he loved Carson and actually cared for him. He told me that he did and that sealed my commitment to supporting their relationship, even though I secretly resented it. Since going somewhat public Zach and Carson had been changing. Zach was becoming more and more obviously gay and Carson took down the wall that made you think that he was just weird. Although I had secretly told myself I was going to be nicer to Carson, for the sake of Zach’s and my friendship, Carson had taken it as a sign of weakness and was grow ever increasingly more confident in his disdain for me and trying to control every aspect of our apartment. It was obvious that he controlled Zach, but now he was trying to control me, creating an atmosphere filled with tension.

I had always taken a perverse pleasure in annoying the shit out of Carson and pushing him to his unknown edge. Driving Carson nuts was especially easy. Our bedrooms were next-door to one another and shared a mutual wall, which I had placed my bed against when I first moved in. I had always tossed and turned a lot while sleeping, I knew this. Still, you never really know your sleeping habits until you share a room with someone and ask them. Zach, who I had shared a room with the previous year, had once informed me that not only did I toss and turn a lot in my sleep, I did so violently. He said I would be laying there in bed and then I would push myself up and twist in mid-air and come crashing down. I am a big guy so I know this tendency must have made an awful racquet. He also informed me that I talked in my sleep. In the mornings I would sit up and somewhat carry on a conversation with him before returning to the prone position and falling back asleep. I have no recollection of these actions; therefore, I am assuming that I sleep talk. Worst of all probably was my snoring; let us just say I could drown out a construction site.

The Case of the Two Gay Roommates Part VI: The one with the tension

Last night I had found out that my best friend and roommate Zach, was in a relationship with my nemesis and other roommate Carson. Fortunately, when I found out earlier that night—after John, the other roommate had gotten drunk and told me—Carson was out of town with his friend, hunter, who I later found out was his ex. Zach and I had taken a walk to talk about the nights events and had returned just as the sun was coming up. Following the ‘stinker incident’ mentioned previously, we went to my room to watch an episode of Criminal Minds that I wanted him to see because the boy in it, who turns out to have killed his little brother because he had broken his model airplane, reminded me of one of our roommates. I am not going to say any names, but he was currently sleeping off the previous night’s inebriation in the next room.

Moreover, I knew that once Zach started watching any crime drama he could not sleep until he found out the ending, and my exhaustion had not hit me yet and I did not want to be alone. I was also enjoying spending time with Zach, although the conditions could have been better. We watched most of the episode before my exhaustion finally kicked in and I suddenly became all too aware of exactly how long I had been up and how great my sleep debt really was. I finally kicked Zach out—or maybe he just left, I really do not know seeing as I was about three ticks past delirium—and I quickly nodded off to sleep.

The Case of the Two Gay Roommates Part V: The one with the stinker

John had gotten drunk, got in a fight with Laura, passed out, almost went comatose, gotten caught by the cops, gotten written up by housing. In the process, he implicated my best friend Zach of having sexual relations with the annoying bastard of a roommate Carson.

After the last of the paramedics, Police officers, and Community Assistants left our apartment; Zach and I had put John to bed. Afterwards, we had gone over to Laura’s apartment because neither of us was remotely tired after the night’s events and we did not want to wake John from his drunken stupor.

The Case of the Two Gay Roommates Part IV: The one with the nap

The weeks went on, and still Zach and Carson were together a lot, but it did not bother me as much. I began to hang out with John more, but still with Zach too. Carson’s friend Hunter, the one I knew was gay the moment I met him, began to come over more and more. But instead of staying stuck under Carson’s ass as he used to, he would hang out with us all. He would bring over one of his Nintendo game systems and him and John, and I too, would play all weekend. Something we called a Nintendo weekend. It was fun, but I noticed how horribly Carson had been treating him, and essentially only kept him around for money.

The Case of the Two Gay Roommates Part III: The one with the prank

I had decided that I was not going to put up with Carson’s shit much longer. He was driving me up the wall, with his constant bitching and condescending attitude. I had come to realize that not only was he annoying, narcissistic, and many other things, but now he was a liar. I don’t even remember what exactly it was that I first discovered him lying about, because there were too many to count.

The Case of the Two Gay Roommates Part II: The one with the painting