LONELY HEART CITY

The first time Anne and I met, I was playing Frisbee in the park when one of my errant throws struck a baby strapped to a man’s back. Nearby, she had seen my gaffe and thought it funny. A few weeks later, I found out that she worked in the bar behind my apartment.

She was full of stories, like how the property manager of my building once posed as Saudi Arabian royalty to get into the socialite circles in New York. Princess Antoinette convinced jewelers to loan her almost a million dollars in merchandise which she put into safety deposit, insured, and then reported it stolen, collecting the insurance money. Her sister’s husband bailed her out of jail and brought her to Buffalo to work for him. Why else would anyone come back to Buffalo?

And then there was the one about the middle-aged regular at the bar who bought Anne gifts. She accepted them all, each one more expensive than the last, and then would talk shit about him behind his back. That is, until he bought her lingerie. Apparently, this is where he crossed the line.

The last time I saw Anne, we had drinks at the bar. Afterwards, I walked her to her car in the parking lot and worked up the nerve to tell her that I liked her, and asked what she thought about “us.” She said that her boyfriend had just come back from Europe and that she was really confused, and hugged me.

As I walked back to my apartment, I was comforted by the thought that I may or may not have shit in her closet.  

Chicken Lips

I was the first to wake up, and felt a little hung over. Brian looked at me, closed his eyes and giggled. Stephanie and I were trying out “being friends.” She said we were more like ‘brother and sister’ than ‘boyfriend and girlfriend.’ I miss the sex more than anything. Last night she made a move, but I was too drunk and hurt to act.

We all eventually sit up, wrapped in blankets telling stories. Brian said there was a family he went to school with whose mother and father were brother and sister. They had four or five children. The one in Brian’s class they called “Chicken Lips” because his teeth stuck straight out of his mouth, pushing his lips apart. We couldn’t stop laughing at the name.

Ryan appeared out of nowhere, wrapped in his blanket, and nonchalantly added, “Yeah, thanks a lot ‘Aunt-Uncle Mom-Dad'” and went into the bathroom.  

American Dream

At one point, I had taken to lying. I lied about stupid things—things that didn’t even matter. I would steal other people’s identities, telling stories I heard from others in the first person.

I remember thinking how easy it was, and how eager others were to believe the fantastic. They wanted me to be interesting, if for only a moment, vicariously, their lives were too. It didn’t matter if what I told them was true. I gave them the hope, the possibility that life was more than paying bloated student loans and the constant struggle to find contentment and validation in the banalities of their situation. They forgot about their miserable jobs and abandoned youthful aspirations—the stillbirth of the American Dream. If they took the time to think about their situation, they’d realize the corporations they work for have them locked into a legalized form of slavery. Or maybe they knew, and found it easier to remain inert, choosing not to change their circumstances for fear of failure or the unknown. I’m always amazed at how so many people toil their entire lives for the benefit of someone who has much more than they do. 

I think back to when I used to work for this company that made computer chips. A friend of mine who worked in purchasing would tell me about how, on a weekly basis, one of our distributors would decide to discontinue a product integral to our supply chain. This was bad news for my friend because, as the purchase agent, he was responsible for securing parts and suppliers. Finding another supplier would take at least six months and interrupt manufacturing, potentially leading to the loss of millions of dollars in contracts. At this point, one of our VPs would call the VP of the supplier, negotiate details, and then arrange to transfer a large, undisclosed sum of money into the other VP’s personal bank account.

This is how business works.