HONEY I’M HOME

I needed you, and you needed me.

Maybe it was the tacos (actual Mexican tacos, not this pita-burrito-shaved-mystery-meat bullshit I’ve been victim of for two years) or the potential English-speaking sex partners (such potential) or the mountains (likely) or, actually, the text my younger brother sent me:

Hey Jessi. I hope Europe’s fun and all, but if you ever come back to the states, I’d like to spend some time together. I think we could be really good friends now.

Two years, 1.5 years, doesn’t really matter. People figure some shit out in two years. They flip-flop their lives around and get new girlfriends and married and a dog. The stench of the change I was headed to witness, so dank and meaty like that of aged crotch, assaulted me through the Ibiza airport, the Barcelona airport, the Paris airport, the Turkish airport, all along the 30-some hours of flights, and when I arrived in SFR I was sweaty and anxious and physically weak. But it was just me, as it turned out. Much of what I came back to was exactly the same, or improved un poquito.

Maybe that’s it, that everything was the same.

I don’t want you to go, but I would never do anything to keep you. I am so, so proud of who you are.

Thanks, Mom. Hey, Aunt Jeanne told me you used to be a wildcat yourself.

Smiling. I was.

My old ex-boyfriend faked sick in Tahoe to come see me in San Francisco. We ate burritos in the Mission and drove up to Coit Tower and I sucked him off in his Subaru, parked on the street in some suburb. It was fine. I won’t miss him.

My friends in Portland are all depressed. Portland sucks now, they say. Flooded with shitty Californians and rich hipsters driving up the rent. We can mostly blame Portlandia for this. Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein, go fuck yourselves. Now I have to pretend your shit’s not funny.

It’s like that all over: rent is higher, apartments are smaller, college is cheaper for women with babies and Food 4 Less is always hiring. They ask me when I’m coming home, but what can I say? Home has never really existed.

We’ll talk about this next year.

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