The Return of Steven and my Heterosexuality

Easily one of the best and probably the most interesting weekend since the end of college. The UR crew was in town, namely Sam, Charissa, Bender and Preston and wow, I don't know how to write this blog. Well, let me start first with what everyone will find amusing at my expense. We ran into Steven (the gay guy I met last weekend who called me up and pretty much asked if I wanted to have sex with him) at a random party that none of us were really invited to. That would be another theme of the weekend, but more on that later. I had no idea he was going to be there, and neither did Meaghan who had told us to come to the party. Well, we got there and we were all 10 beers deep and we had just walked a mile, so I ran right inside. There was no one there. Actually, there were about 10 people there and one of them was Steven. It was awkward immediately, namely because on Friday night Sam called Steven from my phone a couple times. He didn't pick up since I grabbed the phone from Sam before it rang more than once. And yes, Sam is a terrible terrible person, but I understand why he thought it would be funny to call a gay guy whose number was stored in my call history from last weekend. Anyway, another point of note, I was wearing the gayest article of clothing I own to this party. My big gay blue turtleneck, as I like to call it. I rarely ever wear the thing, but Bender was wearing his mock turtleneck (which was very sexy, by the way) and we thought it would be douche-tastic if we both wore them out that night. It was, indeed, the last fuckin thing in the world I wanted to be wearing around some dude who wanted to tickle my pickle. So I purposefully tried to avoid all contact with Steven at the party and at first I had no idea that the calls Sam made on Friday had shown up on his phone. So I figured, wtf, I'll just keep drinking and all will be well. It wasn't. I was sitting on the couch and got a text message, I looked down at it as I watched Steven walk out of the room. Of course, it was from him. Oh, no, not awkward at all. It said, So why the call so late last night? What's up? I ignored it. 10 minutes later, another text, this one was off the charts of the gayometer. "Totally interested in hanging out...What's up?" Ignored it again. Then I'm talking to a couple of people in the kitchen and Steven walks up and says "Ryan, can you grab me a napkin?" I definitely started laughing at that point, but I don't think he caught on. I told my friends that itd probably be a good idea if we got the hell out of that party before I became Steven's love slave, but of course, they found it all quite hilarious. All of the guys jumped on me while I was on the couch for a great big gay photo (see above). Steven stood in the corner watching all this going on, probably thinking about my innocent behind. We did get out of there pretty soon after, but no, it would not end there. As we're walking to Meaghan's place, I get another text from him, "Could you please just call me?" And then a voicemail, "Come on Ryan, just give me a call. Come on, man, I haven't spoken to you all night. Just give me a call." So I did what I should have done the second I knew he thought I was gay, I told him I like girls. Gasp. Well, Sam dialed his number of course, but once it was ringing, there would be no turning back. Went something like this: "Hey sorry man, but I'm not gay." "So why did you call me so late last night?" "That was my friend, he accidentely hit your number in my call log." "Are you sure, man?" "Yes, I'm definitely sure." "Ok, well, thanks for calling me. Now it won't be awkward the next time we see each other."
Really, Steven? Are you sure it won't be awkward? Fuckin Richmond is so damn small, it's almost guaranteed I will see him tomorrow. When we got to Meaghan's, more details emerged, disturbing ones. On the night I met Steven when he started coming onto me, apparently earlier that night, he had been sort of making out with this UR girl on the dance floor. And this girl sort of had a mini-crush on Steven. Now, I don't want to say I turned Steven gay. But, I turned Steven gay. Plain and simple. I don't know what it was, maybe my concave nipples or my non-existent ass, but he liked what he saw and he came charging full steam ahead. I just hope this is the last time I mention Steven in this blog and you can bet your ass, I will never be wearing the big gay turtleneck in Richmond ever ever again.
Bender drank a Sparks on Friday and his tall heart almost exploded. Here's a cute photo of John making sure that Bender is still alive:

On Friday night, we hit up Starlite for a while, but eventually we herded like 15 people, a bunch of them med school people John knew, over to a party where we kind of maybe, no, not at all, knew the people living there. They were UR girls, so that's probably why they didn't throw our asses out, but we definitely caused a scene. With med school done for the semester, Rob "Big Pecker" Becker was like a caged animal that had just escaped from the zoo. A couple of girls tore his shirt off and some married Russian chick tried to molest him in one of the bedrooms. We stayed at the party until 4 am, and probably would have stayed another couple hours, had we not realized that everyone was gone besides us, passed out people, and the people who lived there. We must have been dancing for a good two hours straight, which means we were all pretty cooked, since none of us can really dance. John stayed out the whole night, which happens like once every three months. I was very proud of him. But, it should be noted, and people have mentioned to me that John gets more comments on his blog than I do on mine, that just tonight I watched John post a comment himself on his blog, from anonymous. That's obviously complete bullshit and should not be tolerated at all in the blogosphere. Just thought y'all should know what King Douche has been up to.
Speaking of blogs, more people should have them. I'm getting sick and tired of putting my life and dignity on the line by posting these blogs when no one else is making any sort of effort. This is my fucking life, people. I'm going to start charging a readers fee for anyone that doesn't have their own blog. I'm doing a public service by providing people with crap to read at work, and what do I get in return? Sure, the knowledge that I'm fuckin awesome, but besides that, I don't know what's going on in everyone else's lives. And I do like to know that stuff (unless you're really boring and if you don't have a gay stalker, you probably are.) So, really people, everyone should have a blog. It's easy, it's fun and people will think you are really cool. Go blog or go home.
I could write this garbage for hours, but I have lots of important journalism to tend to tomorrow. I somehow convinced my editor to give me off the entire week after Christmas, which is fuckin sweet, since it means I can spend New Years in NY instead of passed out alone in my bathtub.
Wow, 2:30 am on a Monday and some drunk chick just rang our door bell trying to get into the building. I asked her who she was looking for and she said apt. 6, her boyfriend lives there, but apparently he wasn't there. I said, why didn't ring their bell, it's 2 in the morning, we don't even know you. She got all bitchy so I told her to find another way in. Couple minutes later, I saw her standing outside, so I hit the button to open the door. She walks in and bangs on our door. I open it and she's crying and screaming how I'm such an asshole and I should have just let her in. Then, you guessed it, five huge dudes start banging on the door saying they just want to talk. I woke up the boys, and John grabbed the bat and I had the trusty butcher knife, but eventually, I told one of the guys, the boyfriend, outside the door that I had been in his apartment before and that I was just pissed that some drunk girl was ringing our bell at 2 in the morning. He went away, then, but come on. He said I shouldn't have yelled at her. Of course I should have, not only does she ring our bell, but then she's a total biatch on intercom demanding that I let her in. Unbelieveable. The Sunday night crime spree at 24 N. Blvd might be returning. I just hope they try to break into my room first. I'll be ready. Underneath the bed.