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YAY! I'm about to start a new job on Cape Cod!! I take a drive down with my dad to "scope out the area" and if you want definitive proof that a middle class no longer exists...go to Cape Cod.
If you ever drive to the Cape you'll notice on both the Bourne and Sagamore bridges that there are signs. Not "Welcome to Cape Cod" or "Enjoy Your Stay"...they are signs by the Samaritans of Cape Cod that read "DON'T JUMP". Oh yes, they're real...take a look next time...and keep reading...you'll find out why.
Being in your 20's and living by yourself full time in a resort location means 1 of 2 things:
1) You are very rich and can afford to live in a beautiful waterfront property, possibly your parent's guest house they only use for key parties (which are still a thing here) with sweeping views of the ocean and possibly a golf course should you so choose
the second option is
 |
| Just a bachelor pad |
the second option is
2) You are POOR!
When we went to meet with a realtor he said to me "what are you looking to spend?" I gave him what I could afford and his second question was "can you commute?"
No really, he was NERVOUS about me living by myself which didn't really do much for my dad and he started his normal/irrational thinking plan "we should just buy a house down here and I'll come use it during the summer"
Sooooooo WE are going to mutually invest in a property and since YOU have just retired from working full time, YOU are going to come live with ME during the period of time there actually are bodies on this god forsaken rock that I actually might want some alone time with? yea no.
I was out with friends that night and casually brought up my plight when a very lovely friend of mine Angela said "YOU CAN JUST MOVE IN WITH MY FAMILY! MY MOM [KATHY] LOVES KERRI SO I KNOW SHE'LL LOVE YOU!!?"
Something to note about my close circle of friends is that since we younger we have subscribed to the Haitian style of "communal parenting". Not in the sense that it'd be cool for Joan D to beat me with a belt if I misbehaved, more so the fact that our parents trust our friends parents so much that it wasn't even a question when my friend came to tour Europe with me and my sister for a few weeks even though in reality, our parents had never met each other. I mean...what could POSSIBLY GO WRONG?
This wasn't a vacation though. This wasn't a quick overnight or even a week away. This was ME moving in with a FAMILY that I met ONCE for ONE HOUR three years ago. It took me all of ten seconds to reply "OK!"
Angela: "OH YAY!! IT'S ALL SET!! THEY CAN'T WAIT UNTIL YOU MOVE IN"
Wait...you didn't pick up your phone and I'm pretty sure you're not telepathic so how do you know that 1) It's OK and 2) They're EXCITED about the prospect of having some wayward homo move into your old bedroom?
"Are you sure? Don't you want to call them?"
"No it'll be FIIIIINE! You can come and talk to my mom at my Superbowl party!"
But that's 6 days from when I report to work? What if she doesn't like me? What if I don't like her? It's not really giving me a lot of other options but at this point, it's pretty much all I got.
"Ok?? Tell her I'll see her at the Superbowl party and GO...I don't know [insert some football team here]!
The day arrives and I put on my most conservative, yet cute, football attire. Knowing what you know about me, you're well aware that my outfits might sometimes scream less "Come move in with me" and more "You need to be committed" so trust me when I say, for me it was conservative. I took a selfie to prove it:
I arrive at her house expecting there to be a plethora of chips and dip, maybe one of those veggie platters nobody eats, and if I'm lucky scallops, scratch that, ANYTHING wrapped in bacon.
When I opened the door, I did not see any of things. I did however see...DILDOS.
Fuck! Did I go to the wrong house? Did I get the wrong date? Maybe she sent out the invitations wrong and now there are 50 horny housewives at some undisclosed location hoping Frito-Lay is a new pleasure device!?
"IS THAT YOU SEAN!?" I hear a voice that I don't recognize coming from the other room. The low hum of vibrators is distorting some of the noise so maybe she didn't mean SEAN?
"THIS IS SEAN?? IS THAT YOU KATHY?" please dear god let it not be Kathy please please please
"I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!!"
"PLEASE TAKE YOUR TIME!" I trip on sex swing.
There are a few familiar faces at the party laughing and pointing to things labeled "coochie cream" and "the tingler". I don't even know if the TV was on but I know for a fact it wasn't on football.
Then, Kathy comes in. The best way I can possibly describe this amazingly lovely woman who I now consider a second mom is the following. Remember those old claymation Christmas videos with Rudolph, Santa, and Mrs. Claus? How Mrs. Claus was always short with big round rosey cheeks and a peaceful look of love in her eyes? Now picture Mrs. Claus about 30 years younger. Certainly not as old, but just as cheery. Got that picture? Great!
Now picture Mrs. Claus charging at you for a hug with a 32" light up, rotating, pulsating, scarier than anything I've seen in a SAW MOVIE sized DILDO.
"OH MY GOD ISN'T THIS SO MUCH FUN!?" she asks as we break the hug.
"Ummm, what exactly is this?"
"It's a RAMBONE!"
"No. nono. I was talking more about the "superbowl" party I was invited to and less about the weapon of mass destruction you're waving around like a conquistador"
"Ohhh Angela thought it'd be funny to throw a sex toy party upstairs while the boys watched the game downstairs. Isn't it fun!!?"
(for reference, isn't it fun? is to Kathy is what did I do that? was to Urkle)
"So we're all set for you to move in next week! What do you like to eat?"
At this point my stomach really wasn't in "eating" mode so I told her I'd have to get back to her on that one. The rest of the party was as enjoyable as one can be with the constant whirling sound of vibrators and the fact that I think I accidentally put edible nipple cream on a cracker. I met Kathy's husband and I made absolutely sure they were comfortable with me moving in.
"Are you kidding! I love gay guys. You people are hilarious"
Right but you realize I'm not going to be doing 30 minute stand-up performances I'll actually be living in your home.
Kathy and Angela both reassured me that everything was all set. The next weekend I packed my bags and was ready to go when I got a phone call from my sister:
"When are you leaving?"
"In about 45 minutes why?"
"Can you stop by Angela's and pick up something for Kathy?"
So I drive to Angela's and got a package to bring to her mom. The woman I would now be living with for the foreseeable future while I figured out what exactly this new job was. You can probably guess what was in the package.
What the fuck did I just get myself into :)
Something to note about my close circle of friends is that since we younger we have subscribed to the Haitian style of "communal parenting". Not in the sense that it'd be cool for Joan D to beat me with a belt if I misbehaved, more so the fact that our parents trust our friends parents so much that it wasn't even a question when my friend came to tour Europe with me and my sister for a few weeks even though in reality, our parents had never met each other. I mean...what could POSSIBLY GO WRONG?
 |
| DAD HELP!! SEAN IS DOING THE SINGLE LADIES DANCE AGAIN IN FRENCH! |
This wasn't a vacation though. This wasn't a quick overnight or even a week away. This was ME moving in with a FAMILY that I met ONCE for ONE HOUR three years ago. It took me all of ten seconds to reply "OK!"
Angela: "OH YAY!! IT'S ALL SET!! THEY CAN'T WAIT UNTIL YOU MOVE IN"
Wait...you didn't pick up your phone and I'm pretty sure you're not telepathic so how do you know that 1) It's OK and 2) They're EXCITED about the prospect of having some wayward homo move into your old bedroom?
"Are you sure? Don't you want to call them?"
"No it'll be FIIIIINE! You can come and talk to my mom at my Superbowl party!"
But that's 6 days from when I report to work? What if she doesn't like me? What if I don't like her? It's not really giving me a lot of other options but at this point, it's pretty much all I got.
"Ok?? Tell her I'll see her at the Superbowl party and GO...I don't know [insert some football team here]!
The day arrives and I put on my most conservative, yet cute, football attire. Knowing what you know about me, you're well aware that my outfits might sometimes scream less "Come move in with me" and more "You need to be committed" so trust me when I say, for me it was conservative. I took a selfie to prove it:
 |
| #sports |
I arrive at her house expecting there to be a plethora of chips and dip, maybe one of those veggie platters nobody eats, and if I'm lucky scallops, scratch that, ANYTHING wrapped in bacon.
When I opened the door, I did not see any of things. I did however see...DILDOS.
Fuck! Did I go to the wrong house? Did I get the wrong date? Maybe she sent out the invitations wrong and now there are 50 horny housewives at some undisclosed location hoping Frito-Lay is a new pleasure device!?
"IS THAT YOU SEAN!?" I hear a voice that I don't recognize coming from the other room. The low hum of vibrators is distorting some of the noise so maybe she didn't mean SEAN?
"THIS IS SEAN?? IS THAT YOU KATHY?" please dear god let it not be Kathy please please please
"I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!!"
"PLEASE TAKE YOUR TIME!" I trip on sex swing.
There are a few familiar faces at the party laughing and pointing to things labeled "coochie cream" and "the tingler". I don't even know if the TV was on but I know for a fact it wasn't on football.
Then, Kathy comes in. The best way I can possibly describe this amazingly lovely woman who I now consider a second mom is the following. Remember those old claymation Christmas videos with Rudolph, Santa, and Mrs. Claus? How Mrs. Claus was always short with big round rosey cheeks and a peaceful look of love in her eyes? Now picture Mrs. Claus about 30 years younger. Certainly not as old, but just as cheery. Got that picture? Great!
Now picture Mrs. Claus charging at you for a hug with a 32" light up, rotating, pulsating, scarier than anything I've seen in a SAW MOVIE sized DILDO.
"OH MY GOD ISN'T THIS SO MUCH FUN!?" she asks as we break the hug.
"Ummm, what exactly is this?"
"It's a RAMBONE!"
"No. nono. I was talking more about the "superbowl" party I was invited to and less about the weapon of mass destruction you're waving around like a conquistador"
"Ohhh Angela thought it'd be funny to throw a sex toy party upstairs while the boys watched the game downstairs. Isn't it fun!!?"
(for reference, isn't it fun? is to Kathy is what did I do that? was to Urkle)
"So we're all set for you to move in next week! What do you like to eat?"
At this point my stomach really wasn't in "eating" mode so I told her I'd have to get back to her on that one. The rest of the party was as enjoyable as one can be with the constant whirling sound of vibrators and the fact that I think I accidentally put edible nipple cream on a cracker. I met Kathy's husband and I made absolutely sure they were comfortable with me moving in.
"Are you kidding! I love gay guys. You people are hilarious"
Right but you realize I'm not going to be doing 30 minute stand-up performances I'll actually be living in your home.
Kathy and Angela both reassured me that everything was all set. The next weekend I packed my bags and was ready to go when I got a phone call from my sister:
"When are you leaving?"
"In about 45 minutes why?"
"Can you stop by Angela's and pick up something for Kathy?"
So I drive to Angela's and got a package to bring to her mom. The woman I would now be living with for the foreseeable future while I figured out what exactly this new job was. You can probably guess what was in the package.
What the fuck did I just get myself into :)
