“I’ve got a lot going on.” “We all know that means you’ll be at home in bed, eating cookies and playing video games.” Ducky says. I remind myself that it’s good for me to spend time socializing with people, even if my instinct is to be a recluse. I pull my jacket tightly and brace myself for the cold, for the long walk back home.He whispers his rape fantasy as he gets himself off. As he gets dressed, he talks to me about some upcoming shows he’s going to see as if there’s anything normal about what we’d just done. I’d like to say this was a rare, random occurrence, but probably 95% of my sexual encounters were with men I hadn’t really wanted to have sex with. Because it’s easier for me to have sex with someone I’m not attracted to than it is for me to tell a person “No.” That was months ago. The guards flit back and forth across the street, between the parking lot of an apartment complex that police say is notorious for drug-related crimes and a building with covered windows and a bolted front door.Behind that locked door is the Baltimore branch of the Israelite Church of God in Jesus Christ, a black supremacist sect headquartered in New York City. Wet, white flakes melt in my beard as I cross over the Interstate downtown. The good news is, my shoulder has finally healed, so the months of working out gingerly are over, and I’m nearly back to my old, pre-injury routine. I tell him my desire to buy an apartment in a city. That pretty much sums up the past 8 years of our relationship. I walk to the gym in the thick, black coat he bought me when we moved to New York City. White haired men with desiccated arms smile and wink as I walk from bench to bench.
Jason, who brought chocolate chip cookie cups, compliments my chest. “But you don’t need as much convincing when you’re drunk.” Ducky says. Another shows the preachers applauding as a white man kneels down to kiss the boots of "the prophets of God" while begging forgiveness for the sins of his race.In yet another video, a preacher of the Israelite School, a man who identifies himself as General Mayakaahla Ka, offers this stark prediction for the future of the white race: "Every white person who doesn't get killed by Christ when he returns is going into slavery! In the real world, my boyfriend lives two states away and we haven’t seen one another since February. He calls and we talk for a couple of hours, but neither of us mention it. I eat alone in restaurants and curl up alone in bed. After work I’m practically giddy just thinking about the ways I can spend my time. In my ideal world, I’d have a boyfriend just one day a week, and the rest of the time would be Lance time.