Dear Dionysus XXX: Our Young Man, A Broad, And Our Young Man Abroad

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Dear Dionysus XXX: Our Young Man, A Broad, And Our Young Man Abroad

Dear Dionysus,

Let’s jump back to things just post-high school, shall we?

In spite of the fact that I had bailed on high school graduation, I had still technically graduated. And what’s more, I had gotten really solid grades in the process, which apparently was some kind of an accomplishment or something. I don’t know, Dionysus– it was all a joke to me.

Anyways, my parents decided to reward me for what they saw as a job well done. While I didn’t get a new BMW or breast implants like most of my peers, I was to be going to Germany for a month. This was totally unprecedented and unexpected for me, mate: I had never been outside of California in my entire eighteen years, not even to Mexico (which was a whole two hour drive away). Thus, I was fucking thrilled at this prospect to say the least.

I felt like I was pulling the biggest scam of my young life, Dionysus: All I had done was halfheartedly attend grade school and go through the motions satisfactorily enough to get good grades, and now I was going to Europe? It was a total scam, but I wasn’t about to hip anybody else to this fact. Even before my bar drinking career, I understood that when somebody else is buying, regardless of whatever pretense or delusion they are working with, it’s best to just keep your pretty little mouth shut.

My choice of destination wasn’t an arbitrary one. I had this radical aunt on my father’s side that lived in Berlin. I only saw her once every few years because of the distance, but she was always my favorite. Aunt Germane split the states in the 1960s after becoming disillusioned with the United States and its foreign and domestic policies, and she had resided in Europe ever since.

She was the black sheep in the family of her generation, just as I fancied myself the black sheep of mine. She had rejected her conservative Roman Catholic upbringing and become a leftist, a feminist, and an expatriate. In short, she would have been my dream woman if she wasn’t my aunt, Dionysus.

Actually, the entire affair was Aunt Germane’s idea. She thought that it would be beneficial for me, a sheltered suburbanite, to experience firsthand a little bit of the great big world that awaited me. I thought that it would be beneficial for me to go absolutely anywhere that wasn’t where I was: I probably would have accepted a vacation to the Gaza Strip if it was all-expenses-paid, Dionysus.

I was told that I could bring two friends with me on my travels, as long as they could come up with necessary funds. It was a hard decision to make, deciding which two of my countless* friends to pick. How would I approach my friends with the lamentable fact that only two lucky winners would be accompanying me on what would undoubtedly be the trip of a lifetime? How could I make the selection process fair? Should I have them draw straws? Submit applications? Undergo a rigorous and extensive interview process? And how would the losers react upon learning that they hadn’t made the cut? Would they cut each others’s throats out of sheer envy and outrage?

To my complete and utter surprise, most of my friends weren’t really all that interested in going. But two certainly were: Franky, who was one of my closest friends in high school, and Yorick, who was the slightly older guy you may recall as the owner of the bed that I lost my virginity in.

Franky and I had met through mutual friends, although we didn’t immediately hit it off. This may have something to do with the fact that, the first time we met, I thought it would be funny if I spit on his head from the second floor of the mall as he was walking underneath. But after he got over that initial hang up, we were chummy as could be.

So Aunt Germane was footing my bill and Franky’s parents had him covered, but Yorick wasn’t in a position to get any such assistance. He had been more or less on his own since he was sixteen, and at the time, was working slavishly at the Home Depot for very little pay. But somehow, he pulled enough money together to buy a plane ticket and, hopefully, get by for awhile once we made it to Berlin.

The three of us were beyond excited for our impending trip, Dionysus. We had the wanderlust bad, and all we could talk about for the months leading up to our departure was all the radical stuff we would do over there and how much different (and therefore better) it was bound to be than suburban America.

So there I was, all set to go jet setting across Germany, where countless exotic and alluring European babes were undoubtedly waiting to seduce me, and what did  I do? Well, I got back together with Isadora the night before my flight, naturally.

That’s right, Dionysus: I made a point of getting back that still underaged girl that I still couldn’t quite stop thinking about right before I was to leave the country. If there are two departments I’ve never really been keen in, it’s making sound romantic decisions and my timing: I usually end up harping the same off-key love song completely out of time, Dionysus.  All it really took in this instance was a phone call and a quick drive to her house and there I was– no longer single and about to board a plane with a Polaroid of Isadora in my back pocket for good luck.

Farewell, Isadora! I’ll return to you soon, a little more wizened and worldly than before perhaps, but every bit as dedicated to our love! Forget me not! Be true, Isadora! For I will certainly remain true to you, no matter what longitudinal lines or time changes may temporarily separate us!

Yes, I would certainly remain true.

Ok, I would probably remain true.

Fine, I certainly didn’t remain true, Dionysus– as we shall get to in due time.

</3 Sir Rateval Hurtlinge

P.S. I’m sorry Franky, but I still think it was pretty fucking funny when I hawked that loogie on your dome.

*About twelve.

photo-43

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