Brian and I were texting on Saturday. He knew I was feeling down. (He, on the other hand, woke up at 5am passed out in his clothes on his couch). He puts a spin on life for me that is both big brotherly, and completely irreverent. Whichever twin is drowning, the other one will save it. We are so good, and we are so bad.
I said, Let’s go to Hawaii.
He said, Fuck Hawaii. Let’s move to Mexico.
I said, I’ll start brushing up on my Mexican.
He said, I’d rather be brushing up on some Mexicans right now.
I said, Go to the flea market.
He said, No, no no. Not those kinds of Mexicans. Hot, rich Mexico City Mexicans.
So 10 minutes later, Sebastian, the Microsoft engineer from Mexico texts. After our mysterious meeting and my going underground after he calls me dangerous, I finally feel like it’s time to have our coffee discussion. I texted him when I got back from Fremont, on April 22 which was quite the electric day, to see how life was treating him. He said he was good and leaving for vacation but he wanted to meet up when he got back.
He was texting to say he was back and asking when I was available.
I wrote to Brian that on command, I got a Mexico City boy on the line.
When we go to gay bars together, guys always give me their number, and I never understand why. Sometimes I wonder if because we’re so close, some of Brian’s wishes fall into my life.