We had been dating for two or three months. I had just started school and lived in a small single right off of Sunset Boulevard. It was his idea that we should move in together. I didn't think it was a good idea, as I had a plan to get my degree and become an architectural designer. He thought moving in together would be good for my paying for school. I wanted to do it all on my own.
He continued to pressure me. I tried to hold the idea down. One day he was in the midst of telling me that moving in would be a great idea when I told him that we should give it a 30 day trial. When I moved in with him, I sublet my apartment. And 30 days later, he did not see why I should move out. Instinct told me to stick to my plans...but I didn't. I had quietly fallen in love. We continued to live together even though he could not have sex with me...
My friend who was subletting my apartment called to tell me that he was moving out. I called the manager and gave 30 days notice and on the day that I closed out my apartment and retrieved a few left-behind belonging, my boyfriend told me that he was not happy. He wanted an open relationship. I told him that I did not sign on for an open relationship. We broke up. I was without a home.
He flaunted his new found freedom in front of me. He relished being an asshole, as if my misery was his power. For my birthday, he offered me a downpayment for me to get my own place.
"Keep your money," I told him.
The video company where I worked as an administrative assistant/writer/producer was in financial trouble and would only need me a couple of times a week. I found another job and, in the process, a part time job at a new West Hollywood art house theater. I went to my boss at the video company and made him a deal: I would continue to do his sales reports for free if he let me live in the office until I had enough money to re-build my life. I had to quit school.
When he dropped me off at my temporary home, he disagreed with my choice. "You no longer have a say in how I live my life," I said.
I saved the paychecks I earned from AIG while I lived on the money I made from the Sunset 5 Theatres. I had a routine. AIG was on Wilshire Boulevard, the Sunset 5 was on Sunset Boulevard and the office where I lived was in North Hollywood - in the San Fernando Valley. I became familiar with the bus lines. I didn't complain much as there were 3 gay bars and a bathhouse within walking distance of the office that became a home.
I worked both jobs, having Sundays and Thursdays off from the theater. After leaving the theater Friday nights, I would get to the office and try to get some sleep so that I could wake up early the next morning to get back to the Sunset 5 for the morning and afternoon shows. When I got home after work on Saturday, I would go to one of the gay bars for a couple of beers and a game or two of pinball. Then I would get back to the office and settle in. I had porn at my fingertips. As far as sleep went, I averaged about 4 hours a night.
Sunday mornings, I got up and packed my duffel bag and walked three blocks to the laundromat. I did my laundry while reading a book and eating McDonald's cheeseburgers. Afterwards, I went to the bathhouse to work out, fuck away my pain and shower two or three times. There was a porn star who performed once or twice a month who flirted with me a couple of times. Later in the evening, I would dine on Chinese food while watching a movie. I once saw the little kid from Eight Is Enough - all grown up - coming out of the restaurant while I walked in.
Monday was the start of a new week. Sponge baths. Work at AIG. Work at the Sunset 5. Carry around a gym bag that held my life inside of it. I saw him driving around West Hollywood once or twice. I was later told that he pretended not to see me. With the exception of him and my former boss, my best friend Mark was the only person in the world who knew where I was.
Thursday nights were spent again at the bathhouse not only to fuck away my pain but, also, so that I could take a shower and work out. When I had to do my ex-boss's sales reports, I would leave the bathhouse early.
Three months later after stress and rashes and still trying to get through the pain, I had nearly four thousand dollars in the bank. I found an apartment in Hollywood - on Poinsettia Place between Hollywood and Sunset Boulevards. My dream apartment, if you will. Mark was with me when I made the deposit and retrieved my keys.
"How does it feel?" Mark asked.
I couldn't say anything. I just smiled.
Mark and I spent the rest of the day shopping for what one needs for a new place - a new life. I spent the rest of the weekend on a shopping spree and obtained a credit card from IKEA.
I did not quit my job at Sunset 5 just yet. I had to spend Saturday nights somewhere when there wasn't an underwear party happening. At one underwear party, I met a cute guy who did not want my friend but wanted me. I was scared. I was still in pain. I turned down his offer to give me his phone number.
Sundays I would usually do laundry and spend the evening wearing boxer shorts and watching old movies while eating chili dogs and drinking Bud Lights.
The pain dissolved slowly. I just worked my two jobs and had no further use for bathhouses. My life was quiet for awhile...
He continued to pressure me. I tried to hold the idea down. One day he was in the midst of telling me that moving in would be a great idea when I told him that we should give it a 30 day trial. When I moved in with him, I sublet my apartment. And 30 days later, he did not see why I should move out. Instinct told me to stick to my plans...but I didn't. I had quietly fallen in love. We continued to live together even though he could not have sex with me...
My friend who was subletting my apartment called to tell me that he was moving out. I called the manager and gave 30 days notice and on the day that I closed out my apartment and retrieved a few left-behind belonging, my boyfriend told me that he was not happy. He wanted an open relationship. I told him that I did not sign on for an open relationship. We broke up. I was without a home.
He flaunted his new found freedom in front of me. He relished being an asshole, as if my misery was his power. For my birthday, he offered me a downpayment for me to get my own place.
"Keep your money," I told him.
The video company where I worked as an administrative assistant/writer/producer was in financial trouble and would only need me a couple of times a week. I found another job and, in the process, a part time job at a new West Hollywood art house theater. I went to my boss at the video company and made him a deal: I would continue to do his sales reports for free if he let me live in the office until I had enough money to re-build my life. I had to quit school.
When he dropped me off at my temporary home, he disagreed with my choice. "You no longer have a say in how I live my life," I said.
I saved the paychecks I earned from AIG while I lived on the money I made from the Sunset 5 Theatres. I had a routine. AIG was on Wilshire Boulevard, the Sunset 5 was on Sunset Boulevard and the office where I lived was in North Hollywood - in the San Fernando Valley. I became familiar with the bus lines. I didn't complain much as there were 3 gay bars and a bathhouse within walking distance of the office that became a home.
I worked both jobs, having Sundays and Thursdays off from the theater. After leaving the theater Friday nights, I would get to the office and try to get some sleep so that I could wake up early the next morning to get back to the Sunset 5 for the morning and afternoon shows. When I got home after work on Saturday, I would go to one of the gay bars for a couple of beers and a game or two of pinball. Then I would get back to the office and settle in. I had porn at my fingertips. As far as sleep went, I averaged about 4 hours a night.
Sunday mornings, I got up and packed my duffel bag and walked three blocks to the laundromat. I did my laundry while reading a book and eating McDonald's cheeseburgers. Afterwards, I went to the bathhouse to work out, fuck away my pain and shower two or three times. There was a porn star who performed once or twice a month who flirted with me a couple of times. Later in the evening, I would dine on Chinese food while watching a movie. I once saw the little kid from Eight Is Enough - all grown up - coming out of the restaurant while I walked in.
Monday was the start of a new week. Sponge baths. Work at AIG. Work at the Sunset 5. Carry around a gym bag that held my life inside of it. I saw him driving around West Hollywood once or twice. I was later told that he pretended not to see me. With the exception of him and my former boss, my best friend Mark was the only person in the world who knew where I was.
Thursday nights were spent again at the bathhouse not only to fuck away my pain but, also, so that I could take a shower and work out. When I had to do my ex-boss's sales reports, I would leave the bathhouse early.
Three months later after stress and rashes and still trying to get through the pain, I had nearly four thousand dollars in the bank. I found an apartment in Hollywood - on Poinsettia Place between Hollywood and Sunset Boulevards. My dream apartment, if you will. Mark was with me when I made the deposit and retrieved my keys.
"How does it feel?" Mark asked.
I couldn't say anything. I just smiled.
Mark and I spent the rest of the day shopping for what one needs for a new place - a new life. I spent the rest of the weekend on a shopping spree and obtained a credit card from IKEA.
I did not quit my job at Sunset 5 just yet. I had to spend Saturday nights somewhere when there wasn't an underwear party happening. At one underwear party, I met a cute guy who did not want my friend but wanted me. I was scared. I was still in pain. I turned down his offer to give me his phone number.
Sundays I would usually do laundry and spend the evening wearing boxer shorts and watching old movies while eating chili dogs and drinking Bud Lights.
The pain dissolved slowly. I just worked my two jobs and had no further use for bathhouses. My life was quiet for awhile...
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