The Loneliest Year: Part Four

June 2020

On June 3rd at 9 PM, I stood outside and held my flashlight up to the sky for eight minutes and forty-six seconds in honor of George Floyd. That’s how long the officer held a knee on his neck.

White friends kept checking in on me, and I just wanted to be left alone.

I put all my other projects on hold to finish “We Just Wanna Live,” the song I’d started on May 30th. I wrote it to honor the memory of black victims of police violence, and later, with the help of several generous friends, I recorded a professional music track and a high-quality video to post online. Of everything I’ve ever created, it’s one of the things I treasure most, because it came from the deepest well of my heart.

The Groundlings Theatre, as well as other comedy schools and Hollywood institutions, came under attack for discriminatory practices. One morning, I wrote a defense of The Groundlings and shared it to Facebook—not to undermine or minimize anyone’s claims, but to speak up for those of us at The Groundlings who truly cared about diversity and had championed it for years.

I continued to audition and hone my skills even though Hollywood had temporarily shuttered. I submitted a self-tape audition for the virtual ABC Showcase. I volunteered as a cold reader for three virtual casting director workshops. I did a Zoom reading and shot scenes for Patrick Hurley’s web-series, The Nicest Guy in the World. And I also continued to work on the pilots with my writing partners.

I finally weighed myself. I was 190 lbs. with 19% body fat, which was basically where I was at in December. I continued to count calories and decided to focus on my macros to get down to 185.

I went to the LGBT center in WeHo for a PREP appt, and all my results came back negative.

I watched the third and final season of Future Man. All of the characters grew to be better people, and it was such an amazing show. Each episode I would think of Jesse and how we saw Josh Hutcherson at Intelligentsia on the afternoon we spent in Silverlake. I still missed him every day.

Marcus (from New Zealand) went MIA again, and this time, I was worried that something bad might have happened to him. A week or so later, he messaged me on Facebook that his phone had died, and he hadn’t been able to use WhatsApp or Instagram. We just became friends after that.

I went on a few more virtual dates with Bobby until we were supposed to meet for a walk, and he canceled the morning of and didn’t apologize.

One night a former fellow chorus member slid into my DMs on Facebook, inviting me to come over to his place for sex. I graciously declined.

I briefly chatted with a guy named Sean from Hinge, and the only thing we really had in common was that we both disliked the final season of 13 Reasons Why.

My L.A. mom was really sad, because she couldn’t have a dog, so I ordered her a plush dog from Amazon. It’s the cutest thing, and Phyllis named her Michelle.

One day, I drove to Long Beach to bring my friend, Marisa, Krispy Kreme doughnuts, and then we went for a walk around a nature trail. When I got back home, I discovered that Lindsey Mallard had left me roses and a gift bag. A few days later, Claire Joy, gave me an original drawing of Ariel by Floyd Norman. We were all getting by with a little help from our friends.

An exercise bench I ordered in March arrived, and I was able to step up my at-home workout game.

I saw that Chuck E. Cheese Pizza might be going out of business on Twitter, so I went there to pick up pizza and wings, because I used to love going there as a kid.

I also ordered a pizza with pepperoni and pineapple from Pizza Hut. It was my first time trying pineapple on pizza, and I had no strong feelings about it either way. It was fine.

I chatted with Jonathan Slavin via FaceTime, who reached out to me because he saw I was going through a hard time. I used to watch him on Better Off Ted, and I cherished every moment of our conversation.

I began manifesting low-grade psychic abilities. Small stuff, but noticeable.

One day, I started humming the song “Tequila” out of nowhere. The next, I saw a video on Facebook of a Japanese woman wearing and playing several instruments at once as she said the song “Tequila.”

I sent Jesse an Amazon gift card the day before his birthday, and then I cried the rest of the day, because I missed him so much.

Later in the week, Jesse posted on Facebook, asking for donations to the LA LGBT Center, and he said it would be the best birthday ever for him if he reached his goal of $500.

After four days, I woke up and cried, because Jesse hadn’t opened or responded to my gift card.

The next day, I went for a walk with my wonderful friend, Claudia Black, who tried everything she could do to ease my suffering. I confided that living without Jesse in my life had been pure hell, and after an outburst of tears, I declared, "I don’t deserve hell.” And with those words, something released in me, and I stopped crying. Jesse had felt like heaven, and I knew it to be true—that I was worthy of him or better.

When I got home, I saw that Jesse had finally texted me about the gift card. Strangely exhausted, I took a nap, and I physically felt his presence with me. As if I were being held. And when I woke up, I felt lighter. I canceled the gift card, and I donated the rest of the money Jesse needed to reach his LGBT fundraiser goal. I knew that it wouldn’t make him love me, but if reaching his goal would give him the best birthday ever, I wanted to make that happen for him.

A friend from high school read a short essay I posted to Facebook about how I was often made to feel “not black enough” growing up because I was gay, and he commented that he was proud of me for being an openly gay black man. Oddly, he was one of the people who called me “white” in high school although I’m sure he didn’t remember. It was good to see that people could change.

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Part Five:

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Note from the Writer

This is part four in a thirteen-part essay series that details my year in quarantine from March 15, 2020 to March 15, 2021. If you enjoyed this essay, I hope you'll add a heart and continue reading the other essays in the series.

Tips are not mandatory, but greatly appreciated.

Thank you for reading.