Between Manhunt and MySpace, I can't remember exactly where this guy found me, but he used to work at the Olive Garden just down the road from me. He left the area last summer to move to Los Angeles for a gay porn/escorting career. Is that even a career?
He and I never officially met. We once saw each other from afar when I was at the Olive Garden for dinner (he was a waiter at that time), but nothing transpired more than a nod. To tell you the truth, I never had the desire to meet him, but we've exchanged IMs a few times since he moved. He was always erratic and nonsensical. Our conversations never reached much intellectual depth and I was usually on the listening end of his mindless rambling.
Once in California, it wasn't very long before he became gassed by the west-coast culture. Money and attention was pouring in from escorting and doing porn and he never missed an opportunity to brag about his new car. To no surprise, he started doing drugs (the white stuff you snort) and became the stereotypical Hollywood gay boy: drugged up, high on himself and materialistic.
He IMed me last night in one of his stupors talking about how he wanted to suck me off. I don't know if he was serious or not, but I jokingly told him to come back to Connecticut and I might consider it. For the record, I wouldn't touch him if I was armed with Lysol and a quarantine bodysuit. I may have been too slick at the mouth, but for comedic effect, I had to throw in, "although, I like my boys clean and untainted by the porn industry." What? I thought it was funny!
Well, the bitch flew off the handle. I felt like I was in the third grade. He tried to dis' me by using his financial status. "I make more money than you do," he boasted. Pffft -- I really couldn't care less about how much money he makes and that's exactly what I told him. He went on and on for a few more lines about his money and car and topped it all off by saying he was "done" with me. I managed to slip in a "BYE!" before his screen name went gray on my buddy list. I'm sure he blocked me.
I just thought it was funny to hear some kid who, doesn't even have a college degree (let alone a high school diploma); who's constantly drugged up and high; who lives a life of materialism; and who has to bend over to make a living has the nerve -- the audacity -- to say that he's better than me because he makes more money than I do.
Now, bitch, let's put it in perspective. Hilter had more money than me. Saddam Hussein had more money than me. Kim Jong-Il has more money than me. George Bush has more money than me. At what point does money even matter?
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