I can't stop thinking about Tony. Wondering where he could be, who he is with, what is he thinking, is he thinking of me, and whether he'll ever return someday.

I dreamt about Tony last night. Why Tony? Beats me. I haven't seen or spoke to him in five or six years. We didn't have a falling out or anything. We were neighbors and friends, and then I moved, then he moved too, so we got together less, which turned into "We should really hang out soon" whenever we ran into one another at the grocery store or The Little (and never following through), and then I moved to NYC and we lost touch completely. That kind of thing.

But I'm so fond of Tony, even though we hated each other when we met. After we had been friends for a few years we were able joke about how irritating we found each other to be, but initially? --he rubbed me fifty wrong ways, and vicey-versey. The guy was impossible, tightly-wound and arrogant, the kind of person who states his opinions as facts and is impervious to any other points of view. Furthermore, he didn't have an 'edit' button and didn't care. He'd casually point out that monster zit on your chin, or give unsolicited advice on how to lose those extra pounds you've put on, or ask if you were drunk, high, or both when you decided upon your outfit. And even though his roots were in a white-trash semi-rural suburb, he assumed a bold air of superiority --he wasn't just another starving twenty-something arty-type trying to figure out what the hell to do with his life (like the rest of us), oh no --Tony was fucking deposed royalty, a poet, statesman, just waiting for the day his rightful ownership of the universe would be returned to him. To the point: he was my doppelganger, a taller, gay, male, me. So of course we couldn't stand each other at first, what with all the self-loathing brought on by having a dark little truth-mirror living next door.

I don't remember how we overcame our similarities and became friends. Part of it was my friendship with Tony's boyfriend B, and being neighbors, and being forced to share company, and be pleasant about it. But we didn't become close until I caught him making-out with a Hooters waitress on the hood of a muscle car.

The scene was disturbing, obviously, for a number of reasons. Before I saw them I heard them --the glass-pack on the Firebird they were driving nearly removed my windows from their casings. When I peeked behind the curtain to catch a glimpse of the fuck-wad revving his 450 in front of my house, I never expected to find Tony behind the wheel. Tony. My neighbor who publishes a queer zine with his boyfriend and chairs six different AIDS awareness/gay rights organizations Tony. Screaming up like Night Rider in skin-tight Levi's and a Black Sabbath concert jersey, with an acrylic nailed, booth tanned, big titted, bottle blonde stripper in tow.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It wasn't possible. It had to be a gag. He and B were always throwing extravagant theme parties, it must be 'come as a metal-head straight couple' night. Or...it's his sister. He said earlier that day he was going out to (aforementioned trash-burg I know well, as my entire family hales from there) to help his mother with something. His sister gave him a ride home, let him drive her car. He went incognito to throw the homophobe locals off his scent.

I had settled on the sister/in costume angle as I watched the girl open the door and get out --as demurely as one can wearing a six inch swath of lycra-- I was most certain about it in fact. Right up to the point where he rammed his tongue down her throat and started dry-humping her on the hood of the car.

I didn't see Tony for a few days after that, which was excruciating. But it gave me time to decide whether I should tell B his man is stepping out. Or back in. Whatever. Luckily I caught up with Tony at the mailbox and was able to confront him in person, "So hey, ah, who was that girl you brought home Sunday? Friend of yours?" He looked puzzled, then his face took on an "Oh!" He let me sit with the idea I had caught him for a few seconds, looking all sheepish and guilty. He started to tell me how, although he prefers someone with chest hair and a cock, he can dig on a little girly action now and again; but spilled the beans about his identical twin mid-way.

Our friendship started then, partly because he found my nosiness endearing, part because he had a pass to mock my idiocy indefinitely, and part because the box of wine we emptied telling stories on the porch that night.

Anyway, my dream about Tony isn't worth describing. He was just there while a whole lot of nothing was going on. My dreams are generally linear and terribly boring (I blame it on my subconscious's need for a break from all the neurotic over-thinking that consumes my waking hours). But his cameo made me wonder where he is, who he is with...

Posted by Antigeist at June 23, 2004 01:18 PM