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Seth figured that once he came out to his family, they’d leave him alone about bringing someone home for the holidays. He figured his mom would look disappointed, and his dad wouldn’t look at him at all, and his cousins he’d gone to school with would stop trying to tag him in old photos on Facebook. It would be wrong to suggest he had been looking forward to being dismissed from his family, but they were a bit much for him sometimes. The twins had been his only solace for years, but when Brie had married Daniel, and Nikki had found John (even if he was really nervous about marrying her, and kept putting it off) it had been difficult for him to cope. He loved his cousins, and wanted them to be happy, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but think ‘why not me’?
Seth’s relationships never seemed to last long, no matter what he did. Sometimes he’d brought guys home, mostly older guys who called him ‘sweetheart’ at the dinner table and made his mom take him aside afterwards and ask if they were hurting him. They never were, but the worry on her face made Seth feel sick with guilt. The problem is, Seth knows he isn’t good enough. Not good enough for the love of his family, not good enough to have a boyfriend who loved him – and one day everyone was going to realise it.
So coming home for Thanksgiving was going to be another one of those adventures he’d been hoping to put off – he was nearly thirty, for fuck’s sake, did he really have to go and spend time with his parents again? It was getting dark outside the office windows, but he has his drafting light on, and isn’t really working much anyway, if he was honest, clicking through some recipes as he tried to work out something he could make easily for the family meal, and avoiding thinking about seeing his brother.
“You heading home this weekend?” a voice says, and Seth turns away from his computer screen to roll his eyes at Sasha. He surrounded himself with hot, incredible women, and he didn’t have the faintest idea why. “You look like you want to murder something. Workout not dealing with all those pent up daddy issues?”
“Thanks, Sasha, really helping here.” He grinds out between clenched teeth, taking his glasses off to glare at her. It was Tuesday evening, and he had one more day of peace in his own house, with his tiny dog, before he had to head back to Connecticut and his parents’ home, where his cousins and older brother would tease him the whole time, and he’d have to deal with pussy magnet Randy bragging about his latest conquests, and watch Brie and Nikki snuggle up with their partners. It didn’t help that his parents still acted like giggling teenagers around each other, and he was pretty sure his mom talked about his dad’s dick more than was usual for a woman in her late fifties – especially after a couple of glasses of wine.
“Hey, you could always take me home with you, I’ve always wanted to see how you fancy blue-bloods do the holidays.” Sasha says cheerily, like he isn’t throwing daggers at her with his eyes, “Or hey, there was this thing I spotted the other day, let me send you the link.” She taps hurriedly at her phone for a moment, and then his IM service flickers up, telling him she’s sent something over.
“Great, thanks.” He says, dryly, and lets her swoop over and kiss him on the top of the head.
“Don’t work too late, sweet thing, don’t want you getting wrinkly before you catch the one, do we?”
She dodges out of the doorway and disappears, cackling down the corridor before he can find something to throw at her, but he clicks the link anyway.
It's Thanksgiving. Want to skip that long, insulting conversation about how youre still single? About how your parents really want more grand children? Well, look no further!
I am a 28 year old felon with no high school degree, and a dirty old van one year younger than me painted like Eddie Van Halen's guitar. I can play anywhere between the ages of 20 and 29 depending on if i shave. I'm a line cook and work late nights at a bar. If you'd like to have me as your stictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you, to torment your family, I'm game.
I can do these things, at your request:
openly hit on other guests while you act like you dont notice.
start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion.
propose to you in front of everyone.
pretend to be really drunk as the evening goes on (sorry, i dont drink, but i used to. alot. too much in fact. i know the drill).
Start an actual, physical fight with a family member, either inside or on the front lawn for all the neighbors to see.
I require no pay but the free meal i will receive as a guest!
Willing to travel and fake gay or straight.
Seth has a horrible epiphany about how Sasha sees him, that she thinks he might be this desperate to take some complete stranger out of state, in his car – because he’s not travelling in a terrifying van, thank you very much – to put his parents off talking to him about the tick-tock of his biological clock. But the more he stares at it, the more he thinks that maybe, it’s not the worst idea he’s ever had.
He sends a quick message, before he can change his mind.
Hey, about the thanksgiving thing. Male, 29, tired of being the single one. Out to parents, trying hard to disappoint them early. Happy to travel to Stamford for this? Will drive, but expect long evening of canapés and bullshit. Lemme know.
Seth
He switches off the work computer, gathers his belongings and rolls his sleeves down before he puts his jacket back on. He loves his job, designing is all he’s ever wanted to do, but sometimes he wonders if he would have found someone by now if he didn’t work late nights with people who are about as wild as organic low-fat yoghurt. Sure, he’s no better these days, his hair the one fight against corporate reality, with a swathe of his long, dark curls bleached a bright blonde, but it’s been growing out lately, to the point where it can’t be seen when he’s wearing his professional low bun, and he wonders if he can be bothered to put it back in. Maybe he’s getting old.
But back in the day, he’d done a few wild things – softcore porn, for a start, with his old school friend Marek, who now ran a Fortune 500 company of all things – and a few wild people along the way, but as he’d slowly realised that his parents were still trying to be proud of his sluttish abandon, he’d gone the other way, buckling down to architecture studies at college and getting himself a job which only required using a few of the strings his parents had made available to him. He was used to things being reachable, that he could achieve anything he wanted to – which is probably why it hurts, he supposes, that he can’t find anyone to settle down with. He doesn’t know what’s so wrong with him that he can’t be loved, that no one who’s ever tumbled him into bed ever stuck around for long enough to talk about feelings.
He switches his drafting table light off last, leaving the office dark as he heads out, hailing a cab because fuck the subway. His apartment is only a few blocks away, but he’s in a haze of his own thoughts, and doesn’t want to walk now the wind is getting up and he didn’t bring a coat. Getting home after a long day feels like sinking into a hot bath, which is exactly what he plans to do, as soon as he can remove the furry missile who’s leaping up at his knees as he comes through the door.
“Hey Kev,” he says, petting the tiny terrier and laughing as he licks his hands, “Just me and you against the world, buddy, is that how it’s gonna be?”
The dog just stares up at him with an expression that could be adoration or could be begging for food. Seth decides it’s the latter and puts some fresh food down in the bowl in the kitchen before stripping off his jacket and tie and going to run a bath. His phone chimes from his jacket pocket, and he backtracks to check that it isn’t something the office need him to do.
Hey Seth,
Sure, I can do travel, if you’re happy to sit a car with a crazy guy. What out of the list did you want, cos I’ve never been arrested in CT before, and I’d like to keep that record going! When’d we travel, tomorrow or Thursday morning? Gimme a call to finalise?
Dean
There’s a number at the end of the email, and Seth programmes it into his phone without thinking about it, naming it first just ‘Dean’ and then going back and adding little hearts around it, because Nikki and Brie have a horrible habit of stealing his phone. The bath’s nearly full when he sinks into it, iPad propped up on the counter so he can catch up on Game of Thrones, and he decides he’ll reply after he’s relaxed. After all, if he’s got to face his family in a few days, he needs all the time to himself he can get.