Someday My Prince Will Come

I do not believe in fairytales. I believe in fairies and I believe in tales, but in my mind, neither the twain shall meet. So imagine my surprise when Trevor actually rescued me from distress, thus beginning the ride of my life.

Previously on Confessions of a Male Bridezilla, we saw a good-time gay meet the man he would eventually call husband. Through a haze of smoky air, the shiny discoball-esque lighting, and the blurred vision from the aftermath of drugs, he saunterred, slumped, and embarrassed himself in front of the twin hotties. In the next chapter, we see the chase. First, let me not lead you to think for a second, that there was any remarkable gesture on my part to get Trevor to notice me. Perhaps a little tomfoolery, a little trickery if you will. But, grand gestures are for a man, and let there be no mistake here: I am a fucking lady...Er, sort of...

Two months or so after the initial contact, I was perusing the lush and plentiful garden of gays that congregated to their local server in search of quickies, so-called relationships, and my favorite: "friends" on www.gay.com. After watching the mindless banter betweeen "bb4life" and "jockcock69" for ten minutes or so, I began clicking on the screennames to view the mini-profiles of the men in the "Peoria-Bloomington" chatroom. About a third of the way down there was charming young fellow with the screenname EIUstudent who looked vaguely familiar. I brought up the full profile and EUREKA! Well, actually it was more like CHARLESTON! At any rate I had found Taylor. He was attending Eastern Illinois University and had just begun his final year there. Now, mind you, Taylor wasn't the subject of my dreams, but he was close enough and if I were a betting man, and let's face it, I am, I knew that he, if persuaded properly, could provide me with some clues as to how I might find the other one.

So, I clicked on my chat icon and said,

HEY

To which I received nothing in return. Ok, Ok, this one was a princess so clearly it was going to take more than a quick schmooze.

HI. I REMEMBER YOU. YOUR FAVE COLOR IS GREEN.

This illicited a bit more of a response:

LOL.

Clearly I was dying here. Normally, I would have just bellied up and asked for the screenname of the twin, but I felt like this might be more of a sensitive topic. I mean really, how would it look for me to be like "Hey, your twin brother is hot, can I get his screenname?" I knew that would land me face-down-ass-up in the hunt for Twin Two. So, I did what I loathe the most. I small-talked. After spending much time with Taylor since this initial contact, I have learned that he hates small talk as much as I do...I should have just asked for the name and been done with it. Instead, I carried on the charade of coyness. Amidst the coy parade, it dawns on me that they might be talking online to each other as we typed. So I began to search for the other one's picture in the list of chatters. Sure enough, I found him. trevClay1985, had at some point in my conversation with Twin One, logged on. That was all it took:

IS YOUR BROTHER ON HERE TOO?

>YES

TREVCLAY1985?

>THAT'S HIM.

COOL. HAVE A GOOD NIGHT.

(New window open for Trevor's conversation now)

HHEY. (I'm fairly certain i misspelled the first word of our introduction so not only do I look like a drug addict without a clue, but now I also look like an illiterrate dumbass) REMEMBER ME?

>YES. WHAT'S UP'?

So he finally gives me the opportunity to make my move. To really jump on that train. To finally seal the deal with my extreme coolness. My response:

NOTHIN.

Nothin? Seriously? Seriously! My fricking response was Nothin. No g. Forever in his mind I am going to be "nothin no g" the loser who scouted him out through his twin who has inevitably told him about my lame ass chat with him. Luckily, as fate would have it, my nightly debautchery was about to begin as Carrie D, a friend, lesbian, and premier faghag, had just texted me "Going to Sparks. Get here now." With that I bid both twins farewell and went to begin the nights festivities.

As pathetic as this sounds, let me tell you that it was only the tip of the pathetic iceburg. I would have five or six more conversations like this with Trevor before the night of our second encounter. This night is where the tale truly begins.

October 24, 2008 I went out to our local gay dive. We, and by we I mean me, were drinking heavily. Carrie D and I had decided it was going to be a Tequila night, though it was not Monday. So it started: Shot after shot, laugh after laugh, judgement after judgement. Unbeknownst to me, Trevor would be located on the back porch smoking cigarettes and drinking Capt'n-n-Coke. I sidled up to the bar and ordered two Tequila Shooters. As the total came to $7.50, I grabbed a ten dollar bill out of my pocket. Of course, nothing can go smoothly in my world, so I dropped my cash. Paper money, being paper, did what it does: it flutters and floats. It did that up against the base of the bar. I bent over to pick it up and stood back up: WHAM! BLACKOUT!

It seems that I had concussed myself by slamming the back of my head into the corner lip of the bar. As opposed to going to the hospital like a normal individual, I slammed my shooter and stumbled out onto the back porch for some air, and by air I mean Marlboro Ultra Light. I tripped up the stairs and fell right onto a bench and a boy. That boy was Trevor Thompson. I literally fell in his lap. We chitchatted a bit about nothing. Keep in mind this is a little fuzzy as I was not only three sheets to the wind, but now I was also concussed. Here is what I do remember. I told him that I was going to kiss him and that I was going into the bar. I told him I really hoped he would follow.

I did it.

I kissed him. I didn't hear orchestras stringing, or bells ringing, but I did know that I just kissed the one person in the world that I should be kissing. It wasn't magical. It was quite the opposite. It was real. It was the tender, soul-reaching kiss that you can't describe, but will spend the rest of your life trying to. It was in a word: perfect. And, it hurt to stop. But it did.

As promised, I got up, tripped back into the bar and immediately went to the bathroom. After I emerged, I couldn't find him. I checked out back. I looked inside and he was no where. So, I left. I went home. At that moment, I wasn't lonely anymore. I was saved. And he didn't even know it. So, as I said, I don't believe in fairytales, but the tale told by this fairy about that night is absolutely true. That was the day my prince came and rescued me.