Some of my most questionable decisions happen either under the influence of alcohol or through access to high-speed Internet. My decision to audition for The Real World: Season 27 was a dangerous combination of the two.
Sometimes, when I’d catch a glimpse of them sharing a laugh over a beer and ribs on a perfect Saturday afternoon, I knew my father liked him. He could see his younger self in the boy that I had fallen in love with. They both laughed at their own jokes louder than anyone else in the room. They were both kind and generous–even when they didn’t have to or couldn’t afford to be. They both made me the center of their worlds.
What I mean is that I’d be lying if I told you they didn’t give me a fair warning. In fact, these men were so gracious that they let me in on their “issues” from the very beginning. The flags came in bright, blazing and bold shades of crimson and were stamped on their foreheads for my convenience. You couldn’t really miss them. Unless, of course, you’re me.