Damn damn damn. I’ve been here a week (as of yesterday) and I already hit homesick? This is not a good sign.
I’m sure what actually made me homesick, is the fact that I don’t have a home yet. I’ve started couch crashing. Which, overall is fine, but that means you don’t have your own space and that is starting to get to me. I figured finding a place would be super easy, and when I got here, really it was. But GETTING a place has proved to be a lesson in patience and understanding of some master plan (hopefully that plan isn’t to send me packing back to the summer fog and winter sun of CA). I will press on, i’m sure to the shagrin of leasing agent who has had to put up with some nasty voicemails and mean texts from yours truly.
What set it off this bout of homesickness last night was going out. Yes, I finally went out to a gay bar, not for a date, but because my host, Dan, wanted to socialize, and socialize me to people in the area. Much appreciated. When I got there, I was introduced to a whole lot of new people, and we all know how I am with new people. But I tried to stay bright and cheery surrounded by strangers and get to know them. We had a few good little strides of conversation, but I got lost when the topic turned Apple fanboy and I ordered another drink, two actually. Not having eaten since the afternoon and trekking through the vertical swimming pool that people in Chicago call “outside”, I was promptly lit. Luckily I retained enough composure not to booty shake or tip drill at the bar, but it was difficult.
As the conversations wandered through weekend plans, the gay get away hotspot in for Chicagoans (which I still have no idea how to spell or pronounce correctly, so I’m not going to try), I realized I had nothing to contribute. If I were in SF and had no plans for the weekend, I’d head to the Port and hang with the family for the weekend. Now they’re a 4hr flight away. If I was in a bar in SF, I’d most likely be with Derrick and the Twins. We would be talking about the randoms who walked in and who’d slept with them, and what fun new cheer moves we wanted to try at practice and Lintz would be buying shots. I kind of feel like i’m gaycation, but I don’t have Ernie with me and we’re not being tourists and there is no Key Lime Pie on a stick.
So I’m homesick. I’m a total gypsy, and not loving it cause the outfit requires too many layers to be authentic and I don’t have a wooden wagon to traverse the countryside in. Something has to break soon, cause I’m not packin’ it in due to a rough patch. But it may be time for me to stop watching cheer videos and go find a team where I can throw people around. That always seems to help blow off steam.