It felt so nice to have the apartment all to myself for a few days. All of Starkid was in Boston for the SPACE Tour, and Darren had flown out to make a special appearance; which means quiet, peace and quiet. An empty apartment and a light shooting schedule allowed me to have some unprecedented down-time. I now had a date with my Netflix account and a jar of peanut butter.

It was a good thing I was home alone, because I can only imagine the sight of me. Three episodes into my Doctor Who marathon, I was sprawled out with one leg over the back of the couch, my bathrobe was only there to keep my naked body from sticking to the leather sofa, and a spoonful of peanut butter painted my tongue. Even the apartment was a mess; a trail of clothing from the front door to the couch, empty cans of diet coke all over the coffee table, and a pile of dishes in the sink, a perfect picture of the bachelor lifestyle.

I started to realize how much I miss living alone. I never needed to wear pants, because fuck pants, and I didn't need to wait for the bathroom in the morning. Also, no one drinks my soda, or eats all the red vines. Since Darren wasn't here, I also avoided his lecture on toxic chemicals every time I opened a Diet Coke. I love Darren, but after living together, it was nice to have some space.

I hear the beeping of my phone, and look at the soft glow of my iPhone. It's a text from Ashley, "Want to go to the Grove?"

"Maybe tomorrow, my schedule is a little full today." I felt kind of guilty lounging around instead of hanging out with Ashley or getting some work done, but I'll just call today a mental health day.


After one too many Weeping Angel episodes, I decide I need to watch something a little more lighthearted before bed. Nothing staves off nightmares better than a love story. After searching through Netflix Instant Play and my DVD collection, I settle on Latter Days. Sometimes I just get tired of watching a boy meets girl story, and I need some low budget gay cinema in my life.

It's been a while, but I have watched this movie many times, and it still has me bawling my eyes out. I've progressively cocooned myself in a king size plush fleece, and surrendered to the soft blanket against my bare skin. The credits rolled a while ago, but I remain perched in a ball on the couch. I guess it is time to go to sleep, seeing as it is now 3:00 am, but the trek to my bed seems insurmountable. I drag myself from the couch and let my fleece blanket trail behind me across the hardwood floor as I sauntered over to the bedroom.

I recreate my blanket cocoon on the massive king bed, surrounding myself with blankets and pillows. Surrounded by soft, fragrant bedding makes me so glad I did laundry yesterday. It was such a production, because the only thing worse than doing laundry is washing dishes. Sinking into the memory foam I begin to drift off to sleep.


"Ah!," awoken by my own scream, I took a moment to collect myself. As the panic subsided, I curled the sheets tightly around me, trying to counteract the chill of a cold sweat. I guess the mixture of angel statues and bigoted Mormons made a hybrid nightmare in my subconscious. These two forces of evil teamed up and took Darren away from me, I knew it was a dream, but the panic felt so real. I rolled onto my side to grab a hold of him; just having Darren next to me would calm my nerves.

Darren's empty side of the bed intensified my panic for a split second before I remembered he was in Boston. I felt even colder with the absence of his body heat. Clutching a body pillow was a poor substitute for a warm body, especially because it didn't envelop me in a warm embrace. My glorification of the bachelor life was over; I just wanted my boyfriend back.