Day 55: My experiences at West Hollywood are not unlike the beginning of every sappy, gay-themed movie ever created. Wandering along Santa Monica Boulevard surrounded by bass-thumping bars and beautiful people, I can’t help but feel mediocre.
There by the traffic light, I’d wait for my shining knight with a sharp jaw line in a ridiculously tight tank to come take me away, leading me to the ending I can only dream of.
Of course nothing ever happens, yet I’m so trained by those movies that something always does: a happenstance, a wallflower discovered, something irritatingly cheesy.
Maybe at the next light.