roosevelt rendezvous

with movie maker back in la, we decide to get a hotel room the day after thanksgiving since his mom is visiting and staying at his place. i get to the roosevelt early, right at check in. he joins an hour later in his usual scruffy hobo-chic style.

up in room 611, we pop open the veuve, finish it quickly. he realizes he forgot his lighter. we head to the liquor store downstairs, and he buys a lighter and another bottle of cheap ish champagne (it’s Chandon. he says it’s not cheap, but it is, kinda. enough to cause what happens to me later). at the room, he rolls up a joint and we smoke it by the window overseeing hollywood blvd. 

it’s only maybe 5p but then in the mix of everything that happens when you’re drunk and high with a boy you like, three hours pass in one. at the beginning, i'm very observant. he has a samurai on his arm. and a dollar sign and LA symbol converted from his ex-fiance’s initials. there are more, like the one on his other arm that he got done by a buddhist monk in thailand, or the faded one on his wrist he’s had laser sessions to remove, a product of poor drunken decisions. above our bed to the far left, there’s a random 6”x6” photo of judy garland.

i cancel our dinner reservation and we decide to eat in the hotel or order room service. he passes out for at least an hour and i order some postmates sushi. 

the food takes forever to get to us. it’s past 10 when it arrives, and I wake him up. he's shocked at how he was able to nap, being the troubled sleeper he is. we chow down, head to the pool and lay beside it for a bit. i’m still cloudy and starting to have a headache. we attempt to go to the roof but can’t figure out how so just go back to the room. my headache is really setting in now and he’s trying to be all romantic but i’m like nah my head hurts dude.

i lay in bed with a Friends marathon playing in the background, trying to sleep or fight the headache away but nothing is working. he asks me like three times “maddy are you mad at me?” not sure why he thinks i’m mad at him (or why he’s calling me maddy when he knows i hate it), but i tell him my head just hurts. he doesn’t seem convinced, but why would i be mad at him? no reason.

the headache won’t go. so i go to the bathroom and boom, out comes the sushi and champagne. i probably throw up 4x but then i’m all good. sucks i throw up with a boy in the other room though. not very attractive, but whatchu gonna do? it had to have been the cheaper champagne. i don’t mean to be a diva, but cheap alcohol always makes me sick. that, or i simply can’t handle sharing two bottles within an hour.

i clean up and he’s trying to be all romantic again. i’m like, uhh i just threw up like 50x, aren’t you grossed out? i know i brushed my teeth and mouthwashed and everything, but it’s still too soon. he doesn’t care, kisses me and proceeds anyway. well that’s sweet, i suppose.

we don’t go out again, and pass out for the night. in the morning, there’s more romantic time followed by Coffee Bean right downstairs, and we head back to the room to hang before check out. he smokes some more and tells me that on his two month sabbatical, he wants to get a dog or cat or a bunny (he gets a dog), and he wants to fly drones, and become a certified EMT. i'm jealous of his time off.

check-out time - we share a lyft. my place first, then his.

hug, kiss. and so ends our rendezvous.