A Plague of Chiggers on Both Your Houses

Hello All,

I write to you on a Saturday night from my basement at 8:57, because I lead such a full and fulfilling life. I have purposefully avoided watching “This Holiday” for a few years now because it reminded me of, “America’s Sweethearts”- when bad movies happen to good people, but actually I kind of like it. Don’t hate me. Aside from loving Kate Winslet and movies that have characters with lots of money-so everything is possible, it also has Jude Law in it. I already have a standing crush on Jude Law, but this movie has reaffirmed it to the point where I will go buy the movie just to see him again.

In my singlehood, I’ve been trying to decide what amazing guy I should be looking for to complete my life. I think it’s important to know specify my Mr. Right so that I don’t waste time on all the losers that will be hitting on me in the meantime. I’ve been thinking Dr. because of the financial security, scholarly-but not so much that I look stupid, handsome-but not out of my league, distinguished-but not too old, energetic and exciting-but definitely not too young, and that something that David Hyde Pierce had while playing Niles on Frasier- he was frail and whimsical yet confident and sophisticated. It’s a delicate alchemy, but I feel like the charm of an accent or just a gay Jude Law in general might do the trick.

“I don’t know why I’m not finding this man,” said the gay guy wearing sumo wrestler pajama pants in his parent’s basement.

This amazing gay Jude Law definitely wasn’t finding me the other day as I was actively avoiding participating in a conversation about chiggers with my mother. I hat the word chigger. It’s redneck and basic. I know the insect’s actual name is “Chigger”, but it sounds like something my dad says in place of what its scientific name should be.

Mom: “Did you see me in the bathroom when you got home from work?”

Me: “No, the door was closed”

“Well, I got chiggers while I was picking raspberries this afternoon.”

“…………..mm-hmm.”

“I got them bad!”

“……………mm-hmm.”

“Like from my waist down.” She started to gesture.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOK!”

“………..alright, Dad had to put this medicine all over my…..”

“Stop! I am not listening to how my parents applied ointment in a closed bathroom! That is not happening!”

I’m still having a hard time erasing that image from my memory.

In addition to living at home, I am also not meeting my gay Jude Law while I am working at a superstore and dancing all day and night. That’s right, I said dancing. I’m a dancer again, I’m taking dance classes at night and I dance with a dance company during the day. They are putting on ballet next month; Romeo & Juliet, I’m playing Paris. I have a friend who couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t be able to meet a boyfriend in dance class. I’ll tell you why this brilliant idea to meet gay men is a complete bust.

I am the only boy in my classes that are mostly filled with 16 year old girls and aside from dodging awkward looks from parents who think I’m a pedophile; I’m actually there to have a good time and dance. While dancing with the company there are 2 other men dancing, but one is from Cuba and doesn’t get my jokes and the other…….how to explain the other……….he is attractive, in a 70’s porn star type of way, he also has never made eye contact with me because, like the rest of the company, he does not interact with me because I have the plague of the new person.

Although I have been dancing with them for 2 weeks now, the plague of the new person is hard to shake and shows no sign signs of being cured. Everything I say is incredibly charming and witty, but to them I am an annoying idiot. All of my dance clothes are appropriate and sleek, but to them I look uptight and toolish. All of my questions pertaining to this very specific rendition on Romeo & Juliet are COMPLETELY appropriate, but to them they are uncalled for and moronic. The plague of the new person is totally bringing me down, if they saw my gay Jude Law imaginary boyfriend they would totally think I was cool……..but seeing as how he doesn’t exist, that would probably just be more ammo for their awkward looks before barre.

I was talking to someone the other day about the 4,000 mile hike up the shit slide of a mountain that is my life, and she said that 26 is rough for everyone and in a few years it’ll be SO much better. If one more person says that to me I am going to lose it. I mean, I WILL FUCKING LOSE IT. I’m not saying that things aren’t better than what they were 6 months ago, but it’s no trip in Barbie’s convertible either. Dr. Gay Jude Law and 1 gabillion dollars better be in my Spectra tomorrow morning on my way to work.