While You Were Out

Fridays are my favorite day of the week. If you screw up Friday night, you still have Saturday!

Oh boy did I screw up Friday.

I left work feeling accomplished and fulfilled, knowing my best friend was ready to rage the night away. I didn't even care when my Sperry Top-sider laces came untied because nothing was going to trip me up! I took the stairs to the train two at a time and hummed showtunes the whole way! LIFE WAS BEAUTIFUL! IT WAS FRIDAY!

Then, my friend called saying she had a sinus infection and would be staying in.

Well, fuck.

I tied my laces and ditched the showtunes. Having years of experience in the Friday night industry, I knew there was no bouncing back from plans that were canceled after 6PM. I had to succumb to the inevitable, so I stopped at Walmart, purchased two bottles of wine, ordered chicken Pad Thai, and went over to my friends to watch her pop Nyquil and Sudafed. At least I would get some social interaction before she passed out (from the G&Ts I poured, not the Nyquil).

The real problems started when she turned on Dateline. I probably haven't watched Dateline since I was 10 years old sitting in The Great Room of my upper-middle-class family's mansion in the woods. You know, back when the only struggles I knew of the world came from Friday night prime-time. Oh, and from being a flaming gay kid in the middle of a conservative Christian town. Now, I can't seem to get enough struggle in my life.

BRING IT ON JOSH MANKIEWICZ!

As soon as the first Twitter pop-up appeared in the corner of the screen, I was in for the kill. I was practically narrating the show though a live Twitter feed. Once news anchor Josh Mankiewicz and Dateline NBC started responding, something changed in me. I felt powerful, I felt important, I felt on top of the world.

Two hours and 67 Tweets later, I have plans to get lunch with Mr. Mankiewicz and Dateline whenever I'm back in NYC.

I finished my G&T, remembered that I was in my best friend's apartment, acknowledged her presence one final time, and took my wine to have a good cry.

You know those times when you need a good cry? You're not really sad, but you haven't been sad in a while, and you just need to let it all out or else the next time you are really sad you'll either stab somebody or adopt a cat? I decided two bottles of wine was a good time to do it.

I stopped and started approximately 12 movies on my Netflix

- and by my Netflix, I mean my friend Ian's Netflix because what kind of bougie person has their own Netflix account -

I just couldn't find the right crying material. I needed something that would get to my gut but not make me feel unattractive.

Just at that moment, the universe could tell I needed help. My ex-boyfriend (the dancer, not the mini-jerk or the movie mogul) texted that he would be visiting Chicago in the coming weeks.

And it hit me. Only one person in the world could make me cry like I needed to. The one person who could understand what I've been through, and what I still have yet to go through, more than anyone.

Judy Garland

I scoured YouTube and found Life With Judy Garland: Me and My Shadows. I'm not sure if you've ever seen this made-for-TV masterpiece, but you can find all 3 glorious hours right on the very screen you're currently staring at. I highly suggest you culture yourself and do so.

I had my cry. I sobbed and sobbed and felt what Judy felt, and we connected beyond the decades that separated us through the lyrics of Arlen and Gershwin and a bunch of other gays.

Then I woke up in bed alone next to an empty bottle of wine and pile of tissues.

Thank GOD I still have Saturday,

TJB: Making It