From The Ashes ...

Unexpected Plot Twist Alert!

I'll just throw it right at ya, lest I be called a "plot twist" tease. At my invitation The Hellcat has moved in with me.... Someone just spit milk out his nose. Crazy? Perhaps. I'm trepidatious but not overly so. Shades of Al Coholic? Doubtful. There are many reasons why this could be mutually beneficial. First, obviously, is saving money. This arrangement will knock a couple of hundred dollars off both my share and The Ex's on the rent. A chance for me to put some extra away for a nefarious plot I have yet to discuss here as of now (It involves a Brazilian soccer team, some rope and 20 cases of Merlot, but that's all I'm sayin'). For The Hellcat, I believe that this will significantly lower his monthly expenses as well. Paying one-third the rent for my rent-stabilized castle high atop Second Ave. is still far and away cheaper than trying to go it alone in a two bedroom apt. even if it was in Jersey. As to what The Hellcat will be doing for work, that's undecided for sure yet. Let's just say that money is in the pipeline and we think we got it covered. Hate to be all mysterious but my new identity as a public figure (more on that later in the week as well) makes me freer on the one hand, but more cautious when it comes to other people's privacy on the other. Translation: I'll still post pictures of my own shaved white ass but I won't talk about other's without permission.

What else do I get out of it? A new playmate for one thing. I do like to go out but sadly, as with most things lately my version of go out and The Ex's has become wildly divergent. For example, last week I went out. I met The Hellcat in the village and we grabbed a quick, late workout at The Equinox on Greenwich. Nice gym, by the way. After that we headed across town via Bleeker and then W. 3rd. We were both hungry and finally settled on a really cute Mexican joint that should have been way busier than it was although I think a lot of people were inside where the a/c was better so it's hard to judge. We split a pitcher of sangria and ordered this tortilla taster for two that came with everything (counting at least nine items) on the side for a build your own tortilla extravaganza. It was wicked tasty. We talked, we swapped stories. We ogled the boys working the crepe stand across the street and made up porn dialogue for them whenever they started talking. Thoroughly bean-filled we window shopped back across town finally splitting up as The Hellcat bought a single rose to suprise/apologize to his boyfriend of late. By two days later they had broken up. Back together by the time The Hellcat moved in over the weekend. Anyway that, to me, is out. Or a movie or a play. Or an afternoon shopping. The Ex's version of out is defined by two things. Getting drunk and gogo boys. Neither one of those things am I at all opposed mind you. But he does it every weekend all the time even when he claims he doesn't feel like it. Two weeks ago he scored a rare double play as on the road to getting shit-faced, he apparently got too close to a local gogo 'ho who proceeded to lower his balls directly into The Ex's mouth!(The entire next afternoon was spent replaying that story to everyone on The Ex's phone tree.) Now that's mentertainment! Besides, he doesn't go out at all during the week. Out to dinner is apparently not an option because, and I'm paraphrasing, going out to eat without drinking is too expensive and what's the point? Ah, homosexuality, what have you done to us? That we can't (OK he can't) find the pleasure of a good meal can be the company and the food itself. Yes, Margarita Madness at Fat Ethyl's House of Fajitas (no, you may not steal that) is stoopid fun, but so is al dente pasta, garlic bread and a single glass of good wine. If you're with the right people, that is.

And I think The Hellcat will benefit from living in a home with a stable Mommy and Daddy. He's been bouncing from house to house and living with this person or that for a month or two ever since I've known him. I don't really blame him I just think you get on this track. And you constantly spend your time trying to get the bills paid and keep the lights on. And you start to catch up and then boom, you're out of work for two weeks 'cause your health is wonky. Now you're further in the hole and you're behind on the light bill. Do you keep the lights on or your cell phone paid up? Can't pick up extra work if you can't get calls. Now you party too much and you miss work again. Scratch another 150-$200 you really needed. It's pretty easy to be drowning in debt and bills right quick in this town. But The Ex and I are two of those "more mature gays" (at least when it comes to house and home) that Ryan was musing on the other day. The bills are paid, there's a roof over our heads and food on the table. Always. And truth to tell I'm way more ant to his grasshopper any day. He really doesn't have a pot to piss in as he spends it as fast as he makes it, while I do have a retirement account. There's not enough to retire on in it, but I got it. Baby steps, children. I think it will be good for The Hellcat to see that it's possible to be gay, well-dressed (me), fun (OK, me again) and able to hold down a job in NYC. So we (rather I) threw him a lifeline. I set some ground rules. No drugs in the house. I'm not Narc-Anon so whatever you do outside the house is cool but my castle is my refuge and I've already proven I will push you into the moat if you threaten my serenity. So drug-fueled drama stops at the front door. The Ex don't like tricks in the house so keep that to a minimum as well. And this is all on an experimental basis anyway with a September ending deadline. Or at the very least a re-evaluation where we can say no hard feelings and goodbye, or talk about making him a full fledged member of the family. My hope is that The Hellcat takes advantage of finally being in a situation where you don't have to worry about the bills being paid or the landlord threatening eviction or the rent money being taken but not paid and uses the next four months to get a decent bartending job and saving up some cash and enjoying a modicum of stability. And I'm the most stable crazy faggot I know. Having said all that, The Hellcat dropped off all his possessions on Sunday afternoon, he made me late for work, and I haven't seen or heard from him since.

Oh, and by the way. Now the HIV+ men outnumber the negs 2 to 1. Another bonus should voting need to take place.