this is not a happy story, despite how the picture looks.

jason looked exactly how i always wanted a boyfriend of mine to look. super hot punk rock a go-go.

i met him in the back of a hearse--it was 2 am and jeri and i spilled out of the bar and into this throng of people who took me to the hearse and to a party, punk in drublic.

this party was in a very divey neighborhood of arcata, down in the south bottoms. i met jason and chip and i can't remember much, other than that i wanted jason for my own and figured i would have him. in the course of the evening, chip kicked me in the shins and stepped on my feet and i just thought "punk rock" and laughed. jeri, of course, also was hitting on jason, but this time i was giving nothing up. when i decided it was time to walk home, jason said he would walk with us, and he did.

i tore my pants climbing over the fence to my apartment and went to bed with that boy, telling him i was too drunk to fuck. took me about 20 minutes to change my mind. in about another hour, i realized we had really started something.

so jason followed me home from that party and stayed for about four months. the morning after i met him, he told me he was married to one of the girls at the party, but that she was now sleeping with chip. it all seemed rather modern.

we were never apart. i would take him to work at the gas station, i would pick him up there--sometimes stay the last hour of his shift. i remember i read some western about a mule that was there in the office, cover to cover in the course of our time together. we went to the beach together, played pool together, talked and drank and fucked together. he was my favorite model and my constant companion.

after about a month, he told me he had never loved anyone the way he loved me. i didn't believe him, didn't trust it. it was too risky to believe him, but he swore to me that it was true and that he would never lie to me.

i let my guard down.

i loved him.

about two months in, we had our only fight--it was about the fact that i'm an atheist, and he "wanted to be with me for eternity". i told him we should think about a making it another couple of months and then we could worry about "eternity".

after about four months, after spending my birthday and christmas together, after him waking up screaming in the big earthquake and thanking god for me being there with him, he went out with chip and didn't come home. when i picked him up from work the next night, he seemed a little weird, but i didn't think anything of it. it was new year's eve and we took a shower, had sex and were getting ready to go to a party when he told me that he had fucked another woman the night before.

he broke my heart and i kicked his ass out. and then i thought about how much i loved him and how i didn't want the last thing i said to him to be "fuck you" and i walked and then ran downtown. there was a huge fire in arcata--casa de que pasa was burning down and i was wearing a tanktop in the january weather. i walked back to jeffrey's party and told everyone what happened, one by one as they visited my place of mourning in the kitchen. they didn't do what friend's usually do when something like this happens, that whole "i knew he was no good" schtick. everyone was very surprised. siouxsie threw a candlestick at his head in the mural i made of the two of us and the giraffes that was in my stairwell.

i was fucking miserable.

school was out and i was on my own. i felt like everything was a lie. i gave him all his shit and i found out that even if my friends hadn't known, his friends had and they all pitied me.

that pissed me off.

one night i got drunk and went down to kinkos and made 50 photocopies of a photo of the two of us i had taken. he is naked, on his hands and knees, i am wearing a white dress, standing behind him. on his back i have set up a tea set and he has a shit-eating grin on his face. on these copies i wrote some of the lies he told me like "i want to be with you forever" and "you can trust me, i would never lie to you" and i put these flyers up all over town. in the bars, in bathrooms, on telephone poles. anywhere i could find a place and a tack. it made me sad--i'm not a mean person--but it also made me free.

bachelor #6 is an idiot

bachelor #8 is dirty.

rogue's gallery