So I had this idea for a romantic date night last night. And it was FREE!
See, a couple years ago I was blading along the lakefront with my friend Dan when we rounded a corner near a beach and discovered we had the most amazing view of the fireworks over Navy Pier. I remember thinking at the time it was a shame Dan and I weren’t boyfriends because this would have been a pretty damn romantic thing to share with a boyfriend but Dan didn’t want to be boyfriends even though I thought we’d make great boyfriends but he just saw me as just a friend so who the hell needs Dan? What a jerk. With a cute butt and a great smile and even a nice cat. Jerk.
Where was I? Oh, yes: Aren’t the “ex-gays” funny? They try so hard to convince themselves that being gay is something they can “escape” or “walk out of” or some other bland, meaningless metaphor that conspicuously leaves the door wiiiiiide open for them to eventually accept that gay isn’t something you can shake off like a cowl-neck sweater or a schoolboy crush on Robert Hays in “Angie.” Let the time flow! Let the love grow! Let the rain shower! Let’s try to imagine Robert Hays in the shower! But look at his pictures through 2007 eyes—my goodness was he fluffy-haired little thing back then! What the heck was I thinking? And he wasn’t exactly macho—he looked about as butch as an “ex-gay” staff member. See what I mean about funny?
Man. Once again I got myself sidetracked here. Let me backtrack a second: Robert Hays … “ex-gays” … roller skates … cheap dates … that’s it! The boyfriend and I had a cheap fireworks date last night! And it was pretty cool.
Except I totally remember this mysterious vantage point that Dan and I found being right on Montrose Beach. So the boyfriend and I hiked over there last night … and hiked … and hiked … and not only is Montrose Beach like 72 miles farther out to sea (OK, to lake) than any other point on the Chicago shoreline, but once we finally found a perch with a view of Navy Pier, it was definitely not the perch I’d found way back when with Dan. I remember our spot giving us a pretty up-close view of the fireworks. And while the spot we found last night gave us a breathtaking view of downtown Chicago all lit up and twinkling, we were so far away that the fireworks looked no bigger than the little sparks that fly up when you accidentally pee on an electrical outlet in your living room.
I tried to take a picture with my camera phone, but it came out as dark and murky as a Mitt Romney political position. And I deleted it already so just squeeze your eyes shut and then prop one slightly open with a chewed-off fingernail and you’ll get an idea of what the picture looked like.
Worthless camera phones notwithstanding, as the boyfriend and I sat there in the dark last night holding hands and joking and laughing with the moon over us and the lake breeze bringing us faint echoes of the fireworks as they danced and played on the horizon, I reveled in the fact that I had everything I’d ever wanted in the world. And then we worked our way home and enjoyed peanut-butter sandwiches over the sink and fell asleep together in front of the TV and I can’t think of a better way to spend an evening.