I don't remember his last name.
His name is Brad, the perfect name for your relatively unrecognizable memory in your early 20 s.
He is handsome with a nice smile and his blue eyes are amazing.
I have always thought that when the eyes become too blue, it is like a person without a soul.
You look too deep in their minds and there is nothing behind them.
But I 've never dated anyone with blue eyes and it's spring.
Brad is also in good shape, muscular but very soft skin.
I think sex is good.
Heterosexual women and gay men have a big debate about what sex is.
Most of my female friends don't count oral sex. I disagree. I count it all.
If anyone has an orgasm, I'll forget it.
My female friends also have a deeper misconception about anal sex, and for gay people, like shaking hands.
Ladies, news alerts: sometimes we don't want to do this on a date, just like you don't want to do it on a date.
It's just my second date with Brad.
We don't know each other very well. We never would.
His hairstyle is very picky, his hands are a little feminine, but his cologne is attractive.
I was 22 and didn't have many dates at the time, so it was my first time in love.
Bonus: he lives in Astoria, which is only a few blocks away from me.
If you used to live in Astoria, Queens, you know letting people go there at night is like giving strangers a ride to the airport.
Brad is going to do it now.
I am young, dating and independent, and I have a bright spot in my hair.
The conversation at dinner was dull, but he was laughing at almost every word I said, so for a comedy like me from narcis, he was an ideal companion.
When we were eating, my Nokia flip phone rang.
It's my sister Julie.
I refused.
My phone is new and I'm still adjusting to it.
I don't like the fact that people can contact me at any time.
I prefer to call my answering service which makes me feel like an old manTime movie star
When I was young, my father showed me Doris Day's movies and she always checked if her service had information from suitors or Hollywood producers.
After dinner we went to a gay bar for a date and it was packed with other gay people. Because what's more interesting than trying not to look like you're dating someone else when you know your siblings?
Brad and I drank our universe.
It's 2001, and if it's done by Carly Bradshaw, so do I)
Until there is no soul in his eyes, we start kissing.
My phone shook again.
Different sistersBecky. I ignored it.
Another call was made and Julie made another call.
My drunkenness, coupled with my desire to be present for Brad, makes it easy to dismiss these calls.
Our makeup has turned into a corner.
We're at a party now.
I still have enough time left to suggest a taxi.
I feel that I am a superior person. I offered to pay for it.
On the way to Astoria, it is more about groping, more about kissing, and more about imagining that he is Paul Walker.
In my apartment we went straight to the bedroom.
It lasts longer than it takes.
Then there was a hug, sweat, panic, fell asleep next to a basic stranger and woke up thinking, "Do I like this?
Does he like this?
"I forgive myself for using the bathroom and turn on the phone again.
Six more missed calls.
I lost my stomach.
I'm awake now to know what's going on.
I started listening.
Julie is hysterical.
About my dad's fall and the ambulance.
In the next message, Becky calmed down but wavered.
They're not sure if it's a heart attack or a stroke.
My mother told me not to panic.
Next: Julie told me to panic.
I skipped the last message, from Doug, my kind --of brother-in-law (
They are not married)
Starting 15 minutes ago. I called;
He answered immediately.
At my niece's first birthday party, my father crashed after handing out the burger he was grilling.
Although my dad is not there, the party is still at my parents' house.
My parents are getting divorced and my 61 year old father moved into a frustrating single apartment near his office.
A month ago, the last time I came home, I visited him with my youngest sister Natalie.
The walls and carpets are beige.
The furniture he picked was too big and too dark.
The place is full of things but looks empty.
He wants to make it a home, but he doesn't know how to do it.
I went into his bathroom and cried.
I don't want him to see me feeling bad for him.
He does not belong there.
He belongs to his own home.
We had sandwiches together.
He took out plates, napkins and a can of visitors.
When he opened his kitchen cabinet, I saw it filled with canned stew.
I had to bite my chin to avoid crying again.
We watch TV after dinner.
"I hope you feel at home here," he told us . ".
"I should stay here next time I come," I said, which seemed to make him happy.
While Natalie and I were walking, my dad was standing at the top of the stairs.
I turned and shouted, "I love you, Dad.
This is the last sentence I said to him.
"I love you, Andy.
That's it.
Doug tried to do CPR.
The medical staff sent a faint pulse with the paddle.
My father is in a coma now.
I imagine such a scene: the decorations of the party, the yard full of toys, the deck where he falls, the potted plants that his mother puts out every spring, the mother is crying, the sister is crying, no Burger, little girl's birthday cake.
Too much.
I began to cry. Loudly.
Brad came out and saw what was wrong.
His hair was messy and completely naked.
He stood in front of me, half of him
When I try to get more information from Doug, erect the penis at the eye level: what hospital?
Should I get on the plane?
I motioned Brad to sit down.
He began to rub my back and felt like he was tormenting me.
It was embarrassing for me to cry in front of him, but I didn't care enough to stop.
He tried to hug me after I hung up. “What happened?
I want to shout, "There's obviously nothing good!
Put on pants!
Instead, I tried to explain.
As Brad walked around the apartment, still naked, and came up with a plan of action, I felt more and more disgusted.
I don't even like this guy.
Why do I have sex with him?
Everything seems wrong.
The apartment was crowded and dirty.
I hate everything inside.
I found myself in the mirror and was scared of my blonde hair.
Why should I do this to myself?
I look like a fool.
I told Brad he should go and I need to make a few calls.
He sat there and put his arm around me.
He kissed my neck and said, "you shouldn't be alone now . ".
I leaned over him.
I don't want to be alone.
I don't want to go where I am.
It's all over.
Is that what my father thought in that sad apartment?
Seems like it's all over?
I kissed Brad gently.
"I really need you to leave.
He looked hurt, but he stood up when I was hurt.
Then he hugged me for too long. “O. K. ! ” I said. “Goodbye!
I entered the bathroom and locked the door.
I stared out of the window to hear him dressed.
Then I heard the front door closed.
He's finally gone.
My father also left within a few days.
Over the next few months, Brad sent me text messages and a voice mail that was unanswered.
I have too many things to solve.
I think I was embarrassed.
About two years later, Brad walked past me on the Ninth Avenue.
We almost stopped, just nodded to each other, smiled awkwardly and went on.
I feel like I owe him an explanation and have some end to our story, but I just can't do it.
I must move on.
That night, I had figured out a lot of things that didn't feel right.
I now have a job I'm proud of, an apartment I'm proud.
I buried my father, and this buried the chapter in my life.
That means there was no Brad that night, and there was no trace of that time.
I'm not generous or kind, but that's what I do.
The most important thing is that I don't have any bright spots anymore.
Andrew Lannes, an actor who starred in six seasons of Elijah in HBO's girl, is writing a prose book.