I met Brandon on Plenty of Fish because let’s be honest, I moved to New York City a few months prior, and any money I make seems to evaporate into thin air. Shelling out $40/month on a Match subscription was certainly not in the cards considering the lack of funds in my bank account.
Brandon was hot. He had blond hair and blue eyes which looked especially adorable when framed by the worn out brim of his Syracuse baseball cap. Despite him being a few years my junior he seemed to relatively have his shit together.
We met at a German beer garden in Chelsea, and enjoyed some local brews while nibbling on a giant fresh baked pretzel with stone ground mustard for dipping.
Brandon and I were so enthralled in intellectually stimulating conversation that we lost count of how many beers we had consumed.
Feeling rather toasted, I said that I was going to return to my apartment…
And that he should come too.
After some aggressive necking in the back of the taxi and up the elevator we landed on my bed to continue our adult recreational activities.
Brandon pulled away and paused for a moment…
rolled over to the side of the bed…
and blew chunks all over the floor.
For several minutes Brandon violently heaved while emptying the contents of his stomach all over my Pottery Barn area rug.
Too drunk to do anything about it, we both passed out.
I woke up the next morning to the putrid smell of vomit permeating my tiny studio apartment, so I gave Brandon a nudge to wake up and somehow take care of the situation.
He stumbled to his feet still seemingly inebriated while trying to assess the situation.
He then slid the area rug out from under the bed, rolled it up tightly and threw it over his shoulder.
I never heard from Brandon again, but I did discover a mysterious Pottery barn gift card in my mailbox one week later.