In Real Life: My Journey to a Pixelated World

  “I really like this,” he said.

  “Me too.”

  “But I want to take things slow.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Me too. Slow is perfect.”

  We ended up cuddling under the covers and falling asleep. At some point I heard his roommate stumble in and fall on the opposite bed.

  Mike’s alarm went off early the next morning, and I watched as he packed up his things so he could head to the airport. His friend was staying an extra day and was snoring softly on the other side of the room.

  I had no idea when we’d be able to see each other next. I played it cool as we rode down to the lobby together, but inside I was obsessing over the fact that if we wanted to keep this up, it was going to have to be a long-distance thing.

  We hugged good-bye and promised to Skype later that night, and then I hung out in the hotel restaurant to wait for Kalel to wake up so we could put our costumes on and leave.

  Whatever, I thought, leaning back into my chair. I can handle long distance.

  Over the next few weeks, we started a really intense Skype and text relationship. I’ve been thinking, he wrote one day. Let’s just get married and cuddle the rest of our lives away. Ok?

  Ok, awesome. Glad we had this talk.

  During this time, I became painfully aware of how in love Luke and Ingrid were. I was their constant third wheel, moping while the two of them held hands and kissed everywhere we went. I wished that Mike were next to me.

  After about a month of this, missing him became too much to handle, and I spontaneously decided that I wanted to buy him a plane ticket so he could come and stay with me for a week. We were both excited about the idea, but when I went to bed that night, I had trouble sleeping. Instead of thinking about all of the fun we were going to have together, I kept fast-forwarding to the moment when we’d have to say good-bye again. He had no intentions of ever leaving Ohio, and my entire life was in Los Angeles. Is that what it’s going to be like? I wondered. A month of agony followed by a brief bit of happiness, and then loneliness again?

  I’d been coming out to more and more of my friends, and there hadn’t been a single case of someone reacting negatively. I looked at what Ingrid and Luke had, and it seemed like what they shared was something that was possible for me too. I was sick of being the odd guy out. I wanted to be able to go on double dates with them, to share what was happening in my life with an actual human in front of me instead of one trapped behind a screen thousands of miles away. The next morning I debated for hours before kicking off the following text exchange:

  Joey: So I’ve been thinking a lot about everything and I’m really not sure a visit is the best idea anymore. I obviously really like you and wish things were different but as things are now I don’t see anything happening long-term! :(

  He wrote back a few minutes later.

  Mike: Oh ok. I understand what you mean. I know for long term it’s not fully the right time and of course I would never stand in your way of other relationships. I just thought you’d want to hang out and have me visit.

  That broke my heart a little.

  Joey: I would love to hang out if you already lived here, but I just feel like a visit is a lot of attachment and that’s not fair to both of us since you don’t live here and nothing can actually happen.

  Mike: It’s ok Joey. Don’t feel bad. I’m just sad at the moment.

  Joey: It makes me sad too! I really like you but I’ve been thinking a lot and I just wish the distance wasn’t a factor. And I know if you come and stay it’s gonna be hard to say goodbye. The only time I’ll see you is for short visits! And that’s just not fair to either of us.

  Mike: I know. But at least I’m going to see you twice a year at conferences no matter what. Unless you skip out!

  Joey: Never! I totally still want to be your friend! And this doesn’t mean something can’t happen in the future! But yeah, at the moment the distance thing sucks.

  Mike: You better stay my friend or I will have to come visit you merely to punch you in the face. Lol. I’m sorry if I made you feel super attached. Let me know if you ever want me to visit as a friend Mr. Graceffa.

  I felt awful. But I also knew that it was the right thing to do and that we would remain friends. Now that I was single and had a little bit of experience under my belt, I felt that a whole new era of my life was opening up.

  My Five Favorite Breakup Recovery Songs

  1. “I’m Not Angry Anymore” by Paramore

  2. “How to Be a Heartbreaker” by Marina and the Diamonds

  3. “Revenge Is Sweeter” by The Veronicas

  4. “In Repair” by John Mayer

  5. “Potential Breakup Song” by Aly and AJ

  Tips for a Perfect First Kiss

  Make your first kiss count! If you are scared and feel that you don’t know what you’re doing, follow your partner’s cues. This isn’t the time to try out some crazy soap opera–style lip smacking. Don’t psych yourself out by obsessing over the fact that it’s your first kiss while it’s still happening. Just go with the flow and enjoy it. Also, feel free to practice on a poster of my face. :-)

  Five Celebs I’d Love to Make Out With

  1. Zachary Quinto

  2. Michael C. Hall

  3. Spike Jonze

  4. Jonathan Bennett

  5. Jennifer Lawrence (just because she’s Katniss. Maybe I’m a little bit bi after all!)

  Chapter 17

  Prince Heartbreak

  Whitney could tell that I was pretty bummed out after the breakup with Mike. Even though I’d been the one to end things, it wasn’t because I didn’t like him; I was just trying to be a realist. What good is a boyfriend if he can never be there to experience life with you? I wanted someone to hold hands with at the movies, someone whose shoulder I could cry on when I was feeling down. And to be perfectly honest, now that I knew how awesome kissing was, I wanted a whole lot more of it in my life.

  So Whitney decided to take me out in West Hollywood to see if we could find anyone. Her roommate, Colin, tagged along, and our first stop was the Abbey, one of the neighborhood’s most famous gay bars. It’s got gargoyles at the entrance, go-go boys inside, and Elizabeth Taylor used to pop in from time to time. Overall it’s usually a blast and full of cute guys (plus a fair share of drunken whack jobs). As soon as we got drinks, we immediately met two of the latter. Their names were Edgar and Stacey.

  I noticed them as soon as they walked in. Edgar had long, straight black hair and a boyish face that looked out of place on his tall, skinny body—picture a toned-down Marilyn Manson type but with Harry Styles’s face. Stacey was short, with cropped auburn hair, and she was wearing a tight pair of Daisy Duke cut-offs, six-inch heels, and a black tee-shirt that was knotted on the lower hem of one side. She had tons of black mascara and eyeliner on and bright red lipstick, and there was something wonderfully trashy about the two of them that I found hilarious, so I walked right up to the girl and introduced myself.

  “You’re so pretty,” I told Stacey after she told me their names.

  Her eyes grew huge, like the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland.

  “Oh, thank you, honey!” she said. “So are you! Here, I have something for you!”

  She started tugging on one of her fingers until a cheap, pink plastic ring came off. She grabbed my hand and shoved it onto my finger.

  “Now we’re married!” she beamed.

  What is it with girls wanting to marry me? I wondered, thinking back to VidCon.

  “Well, lucky for you, I’m bi,” I said, still keeping up the act.

  She exchanged a lascivious glance with Edgar that made me think maybe it had been a dumb thing for me to say.

  “Let’s grab that table,” Edgar said, pointing to one that had just opened up across the room.

  “So what do you two do?” Whitney asked when we all sat down. I could tell that she was tolerating them only for my sake.

  “I’m a screenwriter for NBC,” Edgar
said.

  “Oh, I’m a screenwriter too!” Whitney said, relieved to have something in common. “What program do you like to use? Final Draft? Storyist? Fade In?”

  “Um,” he stammered. “Um, well, um, I like to just write things down, you know, on paper. I haven’t really finished anything yet. Anyone ready for another round?” He practically jumped up from the table to get away from more questions. Los Angeles is filled with people like him—people who claim to be writers or actors but have never done any actual work in their entire lives. I thought it was funny, but Whitney kicked me under the table. She wasn’t having any of this.

  “And you?” she asked Stacey.

  “I’m a hairdresser, on Melrose.”

  Edgar soon appeared back at the table with not just drinks but shots as well, and we all got tipsy pretty fast while chatting. The music was great, there were boys dressed only in their undies dancing on the bar, and I was feeling really happy and adventurous. Which is probably why the following happened when Whitney excused herself to go to the bathroom. I watched her make her way across the crowded room, and when I turned back to the table, Edgar had moved into her seat and was staring directly in my face. I jumped.

  “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

  I felt my face flush. Oh, why the hell not? I thought. That is why I came here, after all.

  “Go for it,” I said. I closed my eyes, expecting a soft peck on the lips, and that’s just what happened—for a second. But suddenly his tongue shot out like a snake and tried to worm its way down my throat. I gagged and shoved him away from me.

  “All right, that’s enough,” I said.

  “My turn,” Stacey said gleefully, and reached across the table with both hands, grabbed my head, and started making out with me. She tasted sickly sweet, like strawberry lip gloss, and I flailed my arms around with my eyes wide open. I caught poor Colin staring at us from across the table, horrified.

  I managed to get her off of me just as Whitney arrived back at the table, and the tension was so thick in the air that she picked up on it immediately. “What’s going on?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  My eyeballs were practically popping out of my head with the force of moving them from her face toward the door and back again, trying to signal that we needed to get the hell out of there. I tried to beam my thoughts into her head: These people are weird, and we need to leave RIGHT NOW.

  She got the hint. “Hey Joey, Colin, let’s go check out Cabo Cantina.” She turned to Edgar and Stacey and said, “Maybe we’ll see you guys later,” before they had a chance to invite themselves along.

  We rushed out, cracking up over what had just happened, and walked to the other bar, a cheesy beach-themed restaurant and lounge only a few minutes away. We got drinks, headed up to the rooftop terrace, and squeezed in at a table next to a group of other people. Immediately a cute blond guy started chatting me up, asking me my name.

  “How old are you?” he asked after I told him.

  “Twenty-one,” I said. “You?”

  “Twenty-one?” He scoffed. “You’re just a baby. I’m twenty-five.”

  “I’m not a baby,” I said, sounding, too late, exactly like a baby.

  “I’m just saying that four years makes a huge difference,” he said smugly. “You’re basically still just out of high school.”

  I turned to Whitney. “Let’s get out of here.” I’d rather take my chances with weirdos at the Abbey than deal with a snob who spends his Friday nights at a glorified tiki lounge inflating his own sense of self-worth by insulting people younger than himself. The night wasn’t exactly turning out how I’d hoped.

  Back at the Abbey, it was hot and crowded, and after only one drink we decided to call it a night. I was pretty depressed. I decided I should have just stayed at home brainstorming ideas for new videos.

  As we were walking out the door, I locked eyes with a guy, and the world seemed to slow down. He looked as if he had just stepped out of a Prada ad. He had soulful eyes, perfectly swept-back brown hair with a slight widow’s peak, and ridiculously sharp cheekbones.

  Whitney saw him, too, but we’d already left the bar. “That hot guy just totally checked you out,” she said, grabbing my arm. “He’s so cute!”

  “I know!” I said. “What should I do? Should I go back in?”

  “Maybe. You shouldn’t pass someone like that up. He is sooooo sexy and clearly thought the same thing about you. Did you see the way his head turned as you walked by?”

  I desperately tried to come up with a reason to walk back in without seeming obvious. Or maybe it would be a good thing if I seemed obvious.

  I didn’t have to think about it for long. He walked out of the bar with a friend and was standing a few feet away from us in the front courtyard. I got an even better look at him in the light. He was taller than he’d initially seemed and was wearing a light blue V-neck tee-shirt and jeans. He caught me checking him out, and I looked away quickly, but when I snuck a glance back he was throwing me some major eyes.

  “What do I do?” I whispered to Whitney, but just then she stumbled off her heel and had to catch herself on the wall. The gorgeous guy suddenly appeared by her side and gently held her elbow to help her stand back up straight.

  “You all right there?” he grinned. “A little too much to drink?”

  “I’m fine, thanks,” she said. “And no, I just tripped. These heels are ridiculous.”

  “They’re cute,” he said. “Hi. My name is Preston.”

  He was even more stunning up close, where I could get a good look at his green eyes. “I’m Whitney,” she said. “And these are my friends Joey and Colin.”

  He looked at me and smiled, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. “What do you do?” I blurted out. It was such a lame first question, but it was all I could think of.

  “I’m a model, and I just moved out here a month ago from Illinois to pursue acting.”

  Him and everyone else in this town, but he made it sound charming, and he was good looking enough to actually make it happen. “What about you?”

  “He makes YouTube videos,” Whitney cut in. I could tell she was trying to pump me up in his eyes. “He just posted a new one today and it already has over 100,000 views.”

  “Yeah? I want to see!” He pulled out his phone. “How do you spell your name?”

  I told him and watched as he Googled me. The new video was a cover of “We Are Never Getting Back Together” by Taylor Swift that I’d recorded with Luke, and it featured us fighting over a girl, but at the end, we walk off together and I grab Luke’s butt. It’s not very subtle.

  I watched Preston’s face as he watched it, and he laughed at all the right places. “This is really great,” he said.

  “Thanks. That’s cool you’re an actor. I want to get more into that,” I said.

  “You should try this one acting class that I just started going to. The teacher is phenomenal. I’ve already learned so much.”

  “That would be awesome,” I said, but felt my heart sink as I saw Edgar and Stacey come stumbling out of the bar. I tried to duck behind Preston so they wouldn’t see me but it was too late.

  “Jooooeeeeyyy!” Stacey screeched and ran over to my side with Edgar right behind her.

  “You returned,” he said, rubbing my back while Stacey put her arm around my shoulder. “We missed you!!”

  They were tanked and could barely stand up. “I, uh, yeah.”

  “Who’s this?” Edgar asked, looking Preston up and down and licking his lips. I wanted to die. Go away go away go away, I silently pleaded. They were going to ruin everything.

  Preston ignored him and looked at me as I squirmed away from their fondling grips. “Are these friends of yours?” he asked.

  “We’re marrrieeed!” Stacey cackled.

  “I just met them tonight. I have no idea who they are,” I said.

  “He’s coming home with us,” Edgar said.

  “Um, no, I am not,” I said.

/>   “Come on,” Stacey pleaded and grabbed hard at my arm again. I tried to struggle free.

  “Hey, why don’t you guys piss off,” Preston said. “He obviously doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  I think I fell in love right there and then. He was fighting for me! God, it was hot.

  “Asshole,” Edgar muttered. “Come on, Stacey. Let’s go. We know when we’re not wanted.”

  “Must happen a lot,” Preston called after them, and I cracked up.

  “Thanks. You really saved me. They were all over me at the beginning of the night. We actually left earlier because of them.”

  At this point Whitney had turned to Colin and was pretending to talk to him to give us our space, but I could tell she was hanging on to every word.

  “So listen,” he continued. “I’ve got to get my friend Alex home. He’s a little drunk.” He pointed to the guy he’d been standing with inside, who waved at us. “But let me see your phone. I’ll put in the name of that acting studio so you can check it out.”

  “Sure,” I said, handing it over while desperately trying to think of something to make him stay, but before I could come up with anything, he handed my phone back and then he was gone. I looked at what he had entered and saw that he had included his own number along with the studio information.

  “Oh my god, Joey, that guy is SO HOT,” Whitney said as we walked to the car.

  “I know. He put his number in my phone.”

  “You have to text him!”

  “Already? That’s crazy.”

  “No it’s not. Screw it. You should jump on this. And then you should jump on him.”

  I laughed as I climbed into the backseat. “He even wrote his last name. Prince. Preston Prince. I wonder if that’s his real name. It sounds made up.” I quickly typed out a brief text: Nice to meet you Mr. Prince. I hit Send while I still had the courage.

  I must have checked my phone over a hundred times by the time he wrote back the following day: When do I get to see you next?

  I breathed a huge sigh of relief that he’d written back. It felt like I’d been holding my breath all day. My fingers shook with nervous excitement as I typed out my answer.