Opnin A Bottle Rocket WIh Your Teeth (Part 5:

I want the phone to ring. A trumpet flare or a sitar version of "Stay (Faraway, So Close!". I want the phone to ring, but only if there's a guy on the other end. I want the phone to crawl across the floor, lovingly nuzzle me, and say "It's for you." There's too many qualifications, but still I want the fucken phone to ring. It does. "Hello?" Please be Dmitri, please be Dmitri.

"Hey, it's Dmitri," He laughs. Lucky fucker is drunk. "Where do you live?" I give him directions for the cab ride back. An hour and a half later, he's sitting on the couch next to me. He tells me about $4 bottles of water, and finding "(his) people", hot guys who excitedly dance to Kelly Clarkson. I want His People in bed, but they must wear headphones in public. He heads to bed after "The Oblongs". I also decide to crash.

His whole visit has caused me to crash into contemplativityness reflection. After a delicious homecooked meal of fettuccine and Jiffy blueberry muffins, I stack the dishes on the table.

"You're so NEAT." Dmitri says. "What would you do if I made a mess?" He grabs a pile of Landlord's papers and scatters them over the floor.

I shrug. "Wait for you to pick it up." I say, knowing his OCD will kick in, and he'll be compelled to unmessify the floor. A few minutes later, he does.

I really want to kiss him, and it's bugging the fuck out of me. I'm supposed to be a top, the control guy, but I find myself wanting to wait hand and foot on this nudge. He's adorable and everything, but he's not that hot. Am I becoming a Middle Man? A "top" guy who waits for a "bottom" to tell him how to do everything? Shoot me yesterday.

"I'm bored." He says.

We go to The Trident to meet Clarissa for lunch. I'm almost out of cash, so I have this long internal dialogue about cashing my check. I scan through some books while Dmitri paces. Like all of my other friends, Clarissa is late. I locate her via cell, and determine that Dmitri and I have enough time to shop on Newbury Street before Clarissa will show up. First stop, Diesel, where Dmitri spends over $100 on a t-shirt I could get at Garment District for $5. I taunt him for being a Fag. Then we go to the Hello Kitty Store. I no longer have the right to taunt anyone for being faggy.

Clarissa is waiting when we get back to the cafe. Our server is hot but completely incompetent. Clarissa and I are discussing whether I should cash my check when I hear Dmitri breathing heavily...into a straw...that's bent into his left ear. "It sounds like an airplane." So I'm in crush with a four year old.

I turn to Clarissa to mock him, but she has MY straw bent into HER ear and says, "This feels sooooo good." Clarissa needs to get laid.

In an effort to reclaim some semblance of normalcy, I start talking about asses. Clarissa asks to see Dmitri's (because she's so classy the entire word class is in her name, I mean she's not socially obtrusive at all). He would have turned red, if his skintone allowed. He stood up and walked away from us. Due to his baggy jeans, I couldn't yet comment on his ass.

After Dmitri charmingly overpays the bill, we head to Central Square to cash my check. It's snowing. On the bus, Clarissa and Dmitri serenade me with a Brittney Spears song. It's cute, weird, and incredibly out of tune.

The banks are closed, so we have to go to a Western Union to cash my meager checklet. Not having my ID, I sign the check over to Clarissa. The woman behind the bulletproof glass says she's not allowed to cash it because it's now 3rd party. She does anyway, so I go across the street to buy her a flower. Dmitri chastises me for jaywalking, and Clarissa finally realizes "You have red hair." This, after months of trying to tell me I don't have red hair. Chicks are dumb and colorblind.

After Western Union Lady has been flowered, and Clarissa has left for a haircut, Dmitri and I head back to my house for what may be the last time. Unless the snow gets so bad, his flight gets delayed. Please, let it snow harder.