Justin's Life... November 8-22, 1996

Justin's Life... November 8-22, 1996

November 21, 1996


It's been a while, but hopefully I can make this all make sense.

A day or so after meeting Dave, I got e-mail from a friend of Christian's, Erik (not my "roommate" Erick). He had an extra ticket to a taping of a Dennis Miller comedy show and invited me to go along with his roommate/best friend and his roommate/best friend's girlfriend. I said ok and that I'd talk to him the next day.

The next day came and as I don't live on campus, I told Erik that I'd meet him somewhere at USC. He said that it was ok, that he'd pick me up at the house and after several reassurances from him, I gave him detailed directions. Time passed, and I thought he surely must have been lost, but he wasn't; he was simply late.

So I got in the car and was amazed that this guy was actually cute. --After having my share of random net meetings, I'm always leary that the person will be a complete geek.-- But, anyway, Erik was koool and we headed over to KTLA where the taping was to have taken place. As we drove along, we talked about USC, about adjusting to LA life, and so forth.

But when we got to the entrance, the line went on forever. We got in the back of the line and laughed that our tickets were stamped "VIP" or something like that. We chated about various things and I got slightly embarassed when someone told me, "You have a sticker on your jeans." It was "32-32-32-32-32" the waist size sticker which I hadn't removed from the new pair.

After about ten minutes, the ushers came back and told us (the line in general) that no cell phones would be allowed in the auditorium. My cell phone was off, but in my pocket. What luck! I'd already felt like I'd impositioned Erik by having him pick me up and like a dweed with new jeans. Now I had the task of asking him for his car keys so that I could take my phone back.

I told Erik as much and said that I'd take the phone back to the car. He, however, said that he'd take it and off he went.

When he got back, I was still standing in the same place in the line and the ushers were still counting the crowd, which they must have done literally over four times.

So, finally the line started moving... and it stopped. We continued talking then word slowing made it back that capacity had been reached. No one bothered to yell, "We're sorry, but we've reached capacity." Instead, it had to work it's way slowly back through the line... and why in the world did the ushers count the line so many times? Didn't they know that we weren't going to get in? Needless to say, Erik and his roommate weren't too happy with the situation. (And I wasn't too happy at the treatment of the crowd, but I actually was happy that we weren't watching Dennis Miller. No, the purpose of my going out wasn't to see Dennis Miller (who I think is an absolute bore) but rather just to have someone new to hang out with.)

So, anyway, we all started walking down the street then Erik, his roommate, and his roommate's girlfriend decided that we should go to a little Mexican restaurant just down the block to have a couple margaritas. I didn't have my fake ID and I really didn't feel like being embarrassed about my age, but Erik told me not to worry, that he's only twenty, too. As he's a Senior, I figured he was older, but oh, well, I went on into the restaurant. When the waitress came to take our drink order, Erik's roommate said he'd have a strawberry margarita. The waitress's reply was that they didn't serve alcohol. No one was really hungry; the purpose of going there was to get a drink, so Erik told her to give us a second to decide what we were going to do. When she came back, everyone else ordered a strawberry margarita. I had no idea what had happened in the few minutes she'd been gone, but I followed suit and ordered the drink as well. When she left, I asked Erik and he said that she'd said, "The owner said we have alcohol." As I was still lost, Erik explained that they didn't have a liquor license, but were serving us liquor. I chuckled and said that I doubted we'd be carded then.

Once the drinks were done, the four of us decided to go see a movie. We didn't know what was on, but agreed to meet at the Mann's Chinese in Hollywood to choose. Erik and I returned to his car: They returned to theirs, and we drove off.

After we'd searched a while for a parking space, Erik and I got out and found his roommate and girlfriend waiting for us. They didn't want to see The Associate which was playing there, and so, Erik and I said we'd walk down to the next theatre to see what was there.

From the not-to-wonderful choices listed, Thinner seemed like the best bet, so we headed back to where Erik's roommate and girlfriend were supposed to be to tell them, but they weren't there.

After looking and looking, we stood against a parking structure's wall and talked... but as we were talking, a drugged prostitute walked by and propositioned us. In her tattered clothes and with her half-open eyes, she asked us some mumbled unintelligible questions. We simply looked and made those "I have no idea what you're saying, so I'll just smile" faces until she walked away a bit. She then turned around to look at us again and Erik said, "You're wasting your time honey." She took this as some personal offense and came back to tell us, in her gibberish, that she could get me, gay or not, from Erik. Yes, she'd thought Erik was defending his man and she wanted to let him know that she could get me away from him, anytime. I laughed and laughed... especially after she left and we fully realized what had happened.

As it became time for the movie to begin, we walked back down to the theatre and went up the escaltors... to find Erik's roommate and girlfriend in line getting popcorn. They'd figured we were lost as well and had decided to go see The Chamber. We asked them if they wanted to come with us, but they said no and we each went to our respective theatres.

When the movie was over, we headed back to the car and Erik drove me home. I asked him if he wanted to come inside to meet Larry and he said that he didn't mind. I called Larry on the cell phone to ask him if he minded and two minutes later, we were inside.

Larry and Erik talked for a bit and Larry fixed us each another margarita. Twenty or so minutes later, they'd gotten to know each other a little better and I walked Erik to his car. We thanked each other for the night and he gave me a kiss on the cheek. It was so koool just going out again. That night I thought Erik was someone that I could hang out with... and --time warp-- in the weeks following that night, he's become just that. Unlike in situations before, Larry's allowed me, no rather trusted me, to hang out with someone by myself. Erik and I've had lunch on campus and even went to West Hollywood clubbing this past Sunday. It's so koool just to have someone to hang out with again. No pressures of sex and no controlling from Larry. I must admit, the one thing I thought would definitely be the splitting point for Larry and I was the fact that I felt he wanted me to be his friend exclusively. But in recent weeks, that's been changing. I think Larry's self-confidence where I'm concerned has improved and I actually feel like he trusts me again... and that's a great feeling. Without it, I felt like I was in a pseudo-priso, constantly modifying myself to fit his invalidated fears, and being convicted for "crimes I haven't even committed" (as I told him). So, yeah, in a nutshell, I'm glad to have met Erik and I've not only got someone koool to hang out with, but by having Erik's friendship, it's also improved my relationship with Larry.

November 22, 1996


The following entries were written a few weeks back in rough form, but I didn't upload them because

  1. To keep chronology, I needed to write about Erik first.
  2. I needed to re-read them to make sure they made sense (that I hadn't left anything out)... and
  3. I've just been super busy with school, life, etc. etc..
That said, here goes:

November 8, 1996


Well, to be honest, I didn't really ever see myself returning to Boston, or at least not so soon, but, seeing that I'm several thousand feet in the air and am holding a ticket stub which says,

          United Airlines
          From Los Angeles
          To Boston
          8 Nov     750A
I guess I was wrong. No, I didn't quit school or decide to move back. No, actually this is a primarily recreational trip... but I guess I should backtrack a little.

As I've written before, Larry's pretty well off financially. With those finances come a lot of work; there's not a lot of time left for playing and certainly not enough time to do the household chores. Even with a maid and a nanny, a lot of things (like everything from fixing dinner to having the seeds cut out of the palm trees) don't get done, and so in comes the need for an executive assistant of sorts... also known as a houseboy.

OK, OK, I can hear you asking so what exactly does a houseboy's position entail. I don't know exactly... and neither does Larry. It's more personal than a nanny or butler, but has several of the same aspects and it does not necessarily include sex... at leaset not in this kase. What type of relationship will it be is anyone's guess, but this weekend we'll find out.

You see, after spending several hours on the phone with this guy Matt, we're flying to Boston, then driving to New Hampshire to interview him in person. (Larry posted an ad on America Online. This guy responded with a short letter and quickcam photo of himself. We've since had several long phone calls and exchanged other photos (his, which indentally, looked like four different guys). We could have flown him out, but Larry and I both were ready for a little mini vacation... to the "cootie condo" as it semi-affectionately has been come to known. I doubt we'll do any skiing, but the only thing I do know is that Matt's spending the weekend there with us (and that the sheets will be washed and left folded, not on the beds )

Am I excited about the trip? Like always, not really... at least not yet. After an exhaustive time checking in, Larry and I were two of the last people to get seats, and so, they aren't together. The flight was also delayed an hour, so no, I'm not particularly excited... but not particularly in a bad mood either... mainly indifferent at this point.


It's been just over an hour and nothing much has changed. I at some Skittles, "read" Entertainment Weekly and am now eyeing the drink cart.


Well, two hours have passed and I've eaten a kosher breakfast --Larry requested it hoping it would be better than the regular food although he's not Jewish. Hard to believe we weren't charged extra for it's meticulous preparation-- and I've read all the crap I can stand. I am bored and I still haven't gotten psyched about this trip. The guy next to me spilt his coffee onto my hand, shirt cuff, and jeans... and there are kids all around, screaming, gurgling, crying. That's saying nothing of the I'm-too-good-to-be-in-coach lady sitting next to me or of the peanuts I bought at the terminal gift shop, but now feel too guilty to eat because they smelled too strongly and I feel guilty snacking while the other passengers have nothing. I will be so ready to get off the plane.

November 11, 1996


The rest of the flight was for the most part uneventful. After renting a green Chevy Blazer, Larry and I began our trek northward to New Hampshire. Two hours and a couple phone calls to Matt later, we were there and went inside to the freezing condo. By the time Larry got the hot water heater turned on and the room heaters going, Matt was pulling up in his Corvette outside. Larry and I anxiously peeked out the cracked door to see a smiling shorter guy coming through the rain.

When he got inside, he was more clearly lit and I saw that my "fears" of someone who looked as though he was in his early thirties and on the chubby side were invalid. Perhaps if I'd expected someone drop dead droolworthy, it would have been a shock in the other direction, but as I'd expected someone "uncute," his looks were a welcome relief.

I went to Larry and told him as much by saying, "It was a smooth flight," a little code we'd worked out many moons ago (when I went to meet Werner in Pennsylvania). Larry, who'd gone back to his preparations of the house before Matt had gotten inside, walked over and said "Hello" himself.

For the rest of the night, the three of us got to know each other better. --If only I had a nickel for every time I wrote that sentence... but hey, that's what happened, I don't remember the specifics of the conversation and no real "action" occured except that we went to the local gas station to buy a fire log and four wine coolers.-- By the time we went to bed, we'd gotten to know Matt and find that he was even better than the guy we'd talked to on the phone. His nellyness, a concern of Larry's primarily but also of mine, was not there a tenth as much as on the phone. (After all, this was much more than simply an employment position. Everything was relevant, way more than normal.). So, anyway, he was koool and the three of us ended up sleeping in the same bed, me on one side, Larry in the middle, and Matt on the other... and nothing happened.

The next day, well, things were a little more amourous.

We continued to talk and learn the other's nuances, but we also went shopping, bought groceries, made soup, grilled hamburgers... and well, I guess you could say we lightly fooled around . Larry seemed to be pretty taken with Matt and I thought he was both cute (with his 5'8" stature and extremely furry chest) and mentally worthwhile (a sweetheart and kind soul).

As Sunday came and went, the three of us continued getting to know each other... and Matt was great as far as how he would handle the houseboy position. He did things like clean the stovetop and wipe off the counter. He washed dishes, fixed Larry and I things to drink, put the condiments on my hamburger, and actually fed me soup while I showed him the web site --which, I must admit, was a little awkward, but totally koool. I think I laughed more than I ate, though.

And today, we hung out... until we parted ways around one o'clock. We followed Matt down Interstate 93 until the exit for his house, and then we followed him off. He stopped at a small gas station then came to the window. Larry said that we wanted to say "Goodbye" one more time and he said that he was hoping we'd stop. We hugged, said we'd call him later, then drove off.

For the rest of the drive into Boston (and even before the final goodbye) we talked a lot of Matt and what each of us thought. Larry asked me if I thought he was the third to round out our picture and I said that I didn't think so, but that he could do the job and would be pretty awesome to hang around. Truth is, Larry really does need someone to help, but the position's for me as well. A third still needs to come into the picture and while Matt (at least not yet) isn't the kindred soul that Lee is, he is a kind, generous, sweet guy who Larry says is someone who "we could really end up falling in love with."... and who has the cutest accent when he says "Gawd and Neva"


It's now four hours into the flight and I've done some homework and written the above entry. All of a sudden, a hour or so ago, Larry turned to me and said "I really want to hire Matt." As he'd also expressed some apprehension earlier in our "in car" conversation, I thought for sure Larry was reserving judgment (and I guess he is still, to some degree) until after we'd flown Matt out to Los Angeles to interact with Katie and experience how life will be (He's never lived outside of New England... or even been on a plane). We called Matt to tell him the news: It looks like he'll become part of the family... and from the way this weekend went, I don't think it'll take long for him to make that transition.

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© 1996 Justin Clouse

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