You know the feeling – that horrible feeling – of waking up and hoping that everything you just experienced wasn’t real? Like, having a bad nightmare of being sent to the Moon. Oh, God. I hope I’m still on Earth. Or when you dream of being late for work? Or that you missed an exam because you slept in, but really, it’s Saturday? Well, today really was Saturday. But, I didn’t miss any tests. I was, however, missing my fucking teeth.

I woke up slowly around 11 a.m. As I rubbed my tongue along my upper teeth, I felt a plastic casing around them. No. This wasn’t real. Last night couldn’t have happened. I rolled over in bed, and felt a sharp pain on the right side of my face. That’s when I knew it was all real. It all happened. I had fucked up big time.

Still in a state of shock over last night’s disaster, I opened my eyes and looked around my apartment. There was a box and bag of Wheat Thins crackers sprawled out on the floor, along with an open jar of peanut butter and oily clumps of the stuff slowly seeping into my hardwood floor. Also scattered across my apartment were multiple Xanax pills, as well as the prescription bottle on the floor with the cap popped off. I guess I felt a little stressed last night. Big surprise there.

I slowly rose out of bed, then looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. I’m not sure if “Meth Addict” or “Bar Fight Victim” would be a better description, but I suppose either would give someone a good idea of my appearance. I’d never seen myself like that before. Sure enough, when I removed my mouth guard, I was missing my teeth.

I was missing my fucking teeth. I stared into the mirror in complete disbelief, unable to process what had happened, but also what was happening in that moment. How was I going to deal with this? The cuts and road burn on my face were one thing, but missing teeth? This was my worst nightmare. The nightmare of running down the sidewalk in front my childhood home, tripping over my shoelaces, falling mouth first into the cement, and breaking all of my teeth. What was I going to do?

I looked at my phone. I had messages from Dan. He was checking in to see if I was actually alive, but also to ask what was going to happen with the beach day we had planned. Well, I hadn’t exactly planned on visiting Hanlan’s Point looking like I had just been in a car accident, so this was going to take some thought. The first thing I knew I had to do was face the music and call Mom.

“We have a problem,” I announced. “A very, very big problem.”

I’m sure those aren’t the words a mother wants to hear from her loose cannon son first thing on a Saturday morning, but there was no beating around the bush here.

“Oh, my God. What?” Mom asked.

That’s when it all came out.

In full honesty, I told Mom everything that had happened last night. I couldn’t stop crying. Through heavy breaths, I just kept repeating, “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t know what I’m going to do. My teeth are gone. What am I going to do? How could this happen to me?” Mom calmed me down enough so that I could get myself together and answer my own question. What were we going to do?

Knowing I was a complete fucking mess at this point, Mom told me that she would handle things. She was going to reach out to every dentist and orthodontist she knew, and we were going to fix this. Thank God for Mom. Thank fucking God for Mom. I’ve said it before and I will say it again: that woman is a saint. I took a picture of my teeth so that Mom could better deal with the situation, and sent it her way.

Considering the fact that there wasn’t much I could do at this point with the tooth situation, I had to carry on with my day. I called Dan, and we worked out a plan.

“How’s my toothless wonder doing?” Dan asked as he answered my call.

I almost hung up. Too soon, Dan!

After a fairly short phone call, I decided that was still going to Hanlan’s Point today. I was also still going to play hooky from work with my excuse of a doctor’s appointment. If only I was psychic, I could have just told Big Bird that I had to go to the dentist today. At least then I wouldn’t have been lying. I “checked-in” with Big Bird and told her that I was heading to my appointment north of the city. I also sent her a picture of my teeth in hopes of garnering some more sympathy.

After I had reset my apartment, wiped the peanut butter off the floor, and picked up 17 Xanax tablets, I got my bag ready for the beach and then jumped in the shower and washed away the blood. Having lathered my face and knee with Vitamin E ointment and making sure to pack enough sunscreen to completely cover my wounds, I went to meet Dan and Connor at Union Station.

I was still such a mess at this point. A nervous mess, too. We had decided to take a water taxi at the base of Spadina Avenue at 2 p.m., which was the exact time and location that Big Bird would be flying in off her summer house boat to make her way to the meeting at The Clubhouse. This was a disaster.

I needed some ice. Not only for my face, but for the drinks in my cooler. I went into a nearby Starbucks, walked up to the cash register, and took off my sunglasses.

“I’ve had a rough night,” I declared to the barista.

“Yeah, no kidding,” she said, happily fulfilling my request and loading up my cooler with ice from the back room.

How ironic that I just wrote about having returned to normal after various cuts, bruises, and surgeries had healed themselves. Now, this.

Fortunately, my mouth guard was pulling double duty for me today. First and foremost, it was protecting my teeth. With nerves exposed, I couldn’t even breathe through my mouth without experiencing extreme sensitivity. However, the shape of the retainer was also tricking me into believing that I still had my teeth. I would constantly rub my tongue against the edge of the guard. Even though it was plastic, it felt like my teeth were still there. Everything hurt so much that I don’t think there would have been any way for me to get through the day without that mouth guard. From a distance, other people couldn’t even tell there was anything wrong with my teeth. They would just see the road burn on my face and focus on that instead.

Eventually, the water taxi came. We climbed aboard, made our way to Hanlan’s Point, staked out a spot, and set up shop for what was sure to be a hot, but very interesting day pon de nude beach. I immediately cracked open a beer. In light of what I was experiencing, there was no way I wanted to be sober. The sooner I relaxed, the better. Once the weed was eventually taken out, I could at least enjoy the day. Things were good. Well, as good as they could have been given the circumstances.

Dan and I were overheating. We made our way to the water together, and ran into Spencer Grant. We talked about Mariah Carey for a while, and then I’d had enough of the conversation and jumped into the lake. Spencer was nice. I haven’t had much interaction with him over the years, but he’s chatted me up on Grindr a few times. Usually I don’t pay him much attention, though. Spencer is just a friend.

Dan and I swam for a bit. We joked about him jumping off my shoulders, which he did, and then returned to our spot. When we got there, Spencer was talking with Connor. The rest of the day progressed very well, as did my drunken state. We listened to music, smoked, swam, rinsed, and repeated. Beach life is the best life. Everyone was in a really great mood – even me, despite my hillbilly mouth.

Speaking of which, I kept taking out my retainer and yelling like a hick to the entire beach. It was what it was. If I was going to be missing teeth and looking like I had been gay bashed, I wanted to document it. I made some videos as well. Oh, and Dan and I watched the video that he filmed of me in the cab last night. It was worse than any horror movie I’d ever seen.

Up until this point, I was still going back and forth with Big Bird via text message, getting deeper and deeper into my lie. Now, I had finished with my appointment after an extremely long wait, and was heading back downtown.

I don’t know if Big Bird has a history of a career in fact checking, but she was acting absolutely crazy today. For God’s sake, Big Bird was looking up traffic conditions on Google Maps. What the hell? By 4 p.m., I had missed most of the meeting, yet she was still trying to get me to come.

Finally, I’d had enough. I told Big Bird that I wasn’t going to be able to make it. I didn’t want to spend one more minute on that ridiculous chain of lies. Even Dan couldn’t believe how insane all of it was. Why was Big Bird pestering me like this? In the immortal words of Lily Tomlin, “Leave me the fuck alone!” At least I had gotten away with it. As usual. Maybe the events of last night were payback for all of the lies I’ve been spewing over the past few months. Who knows.

The day progressed. The friends Spencer came to the island with had left, so he joined our group. Spencer disappeared for a while with Dan and Connor. When they came back without him, I asked where he was. Apparently, Spencer was naked on Stuart Hamilton’s boat. Hmm. Okay.

I wanted to see this. Spencer’s body was looking pretty good. After having stopped my anti-depressant, my appetite for sex was returning. One could also call it an appetite for destruction, but given the events of last night and my mouth looking like I had taken a hammer to the face, I don’t think that had gone anywhere.

Eventually, Spencer returned. Unfortunately, he was now fully clothed. Given my powers of persuasion, that didn’t last long. Spencer took off his bathing suit right away, and so did Dan. The weird thing about a nude beach is that it’s not a big deal. I wasn’t even making eye contact with dicks. They didn’t faze me.

Now a foursome, we went into the water together and played a very disturbing game of chicken. Clearly, I had been through the majority of my eight-pack of beer – one of which I gave to Spencer – because I had two different penises on the back of my neck today and I didn’t even notice. We must have looked like complete freaks to the hundreds of gays on the beach. Whatever.

I’m not at a point with my body where I’m ready to go full beef at the beach, but I was wearing my Speedo underneath my swim trunks today. In a moment of care-free confidence, I took off my shorts in the lake and swam around for a while. Little did I know, my bathing suit had decided to float away towards Niagara Falls. Despite 30 minutes of drunken searching and recruiting other delinquents on their boats to give me an aerial view, I couldn’t find them.

I had no choice but to crawl out of the water in my Speedo and scurry to my towel. Thank God for liquid courage. How embarrassing. My body isn’t even at a point where I should be shirtless in public, let alone in a Speedo. I would call myself a hot mess, but that would be quite redundant at this point.

It was getting late. The plan was to head back home, but the four of us realized that we didn’t exactly have anything to return home to. Why not stay on the beach and watch the sunset? Plus, I still had some gin. As if I needed it. A sunset moment was a great way to round out our day at the beach.

At this point, I was pretty fucked up. Given the ridiculous interactions I insisted on having with various strangers on the ferry and subway train home, everyone knew it, too. For some reason, Dan and I thought it was a great idea to buy even more alcohol, so we stopped by the liquor store and grabbed some beers before going back to our own apartments. After a long shower to wash the sand out of my wounds and bring me back to life, I cleaned myself up and Dan and Connor came over. We lay in my bed playing videos games, and I made myself a grilled cheese.

Much to my surprise, Spencer Grant came over as well. Dan and I were both drinking beer at this point, and he had also brought some weed with him. All four of us in my bed, we tried watching some of The Simple Life. However, I quickly became bored with Paris Hilton and put on Erin Brockovich instead. Of all the goddamn movies, I put on Erin fucking Brockovich. Whatever. I fucking love that movie, and the others didn’t seem to mind it. I offered Spencer a beer, and we all relaxed while watching the movie – me smoking weed alone in the corner because everyone else had tapped out. Typical me. Always pushing it to the very end.

By 1 a.m., everyone was completely exhausted. Dan and Connor were barely awake, and had decided to leave. The only problem was that I wasn’t finished. I wanted Spencer to stay. I knew I could get what I wanted. Spencer got up with the other two and started to gather his things.

I had to make up something to tell Spencer. Dan and Connor were too zoned out to pick up on any hints I might have been able to throw their way, and my apartment is too small to pull someone aside and tell them I want to sleep with their friend. I thought of something quick.

“Spencer, I can’t believe you’ve never seen Erin Brockovich,” I said. “You should stay and finish it with me. You’ve got to see it. It’s one of my favorite movies.”

Either this kid was a huge Julia Roberts fan, or he was as horny as I was. Whatever the case, it didn’t take much convincing to get Spencer to stay. Dan and Connor looked at one another completely dumbfounded as I pulled Spencer away from the door and pushed them into the hallway. The trap was set. After Spencer took his shoes off and settled back onto my bed, I offered him another beer, lit my pipe, and lay down beside him.

We continued to watch a decent chunk of the movie. I really do love Erin Brockovich. With each new scene, I slowly inched my way closer to Spencer. For someone who had consumed seven tallboys, four bottles of beer, an excessive amount of gin, an alcoholic freezie, and a full marijuana plant, I was surprisingly alert. Maybe I had paid my blackout dues last night and was getting a free pass for tonight.

Spencer was picking up on my signals, making his own advances in the process. These things always seem to begin so slowly, and then there’s a turning point where it all becomes a blur. It could have been the alcohol – it probably was – but the transition seems to happen like that with most of my sexual encounters.

I think Spencer and I were in the middle of a conversation – or perhaps we were silent during one of Julia Roberts’s love scenes with her sexy biker neighbor – but we started making out. The rest is history. Tents were pitched, clothes came off, and things were getting pretty hot and heavy.

I paused the movie and put on Janet Jackson’s The Velvet Rope album. Typically, when that happens, I know things are about to go down. Or is it “Go Deep?” Actually, it’s both. I was deep throating this kid like I had never deep throated before. I’m pretty sure Spencer’s dick dipped into my stomach at one point. He was packing heat, and I wanted more of it. Spencer was also quite vocal during all of this – telling me what he wanted to do to me, asking me if I liked it, and also saying that he had been, “Wanting this for so long.” Oh. Well, that was nice to know, given that I had barely interacted with you before today.

By this point, we had reached a mutual understanding that there was going to be penetration. I reached for a dusty condom from the top shelf of my bathroom, and we got down to business. It had been a while for me. I think the last guy I had sex with was in early May with Ashton at that Airbnb. But, Ashton wasn’t that hard, so I didn’t really count it.

Spencer was giving it to me. It was good. Great, even. Easily the best sex I’d had since Logan, which isn’t saying much. That would only leave Ashton, and the guy from Sweet Grass, Montana, whom I didn’t even make eye contact with. Buck was a “moment” at best.

Spencer finished inside of me while I was on my back. I did the same on my stomach. It was fantastic. I fucking needed it. While on my anti-depressant, I couldn’t have even fathomed getting off like that. It was nice to know that I was back in business.

Afterwards, we lay on my bed for a bit and talked. Not for long, but it was nice while it lasted. Spencer was really sweet. We also managed to laugh about the fact that I had just slept with someone while I was missing teeth, had a mouth guard in, and had cuts and bruises all over my face and knees. I’m sure tonight will be as much of an interesting story for Spencer as it is for me.

It was late. Although I was more than fine with Spencer spending the night, he had decided to leave just after 2 a.m. We kissed goodbye. It was nice, but I don’t want anything more from Spencer. There was no sense of awkwardness between us afterwards, so I hope we can continue that. It’s rare to find someone you can just have sex with. A true friend with benefits situation. Let’s also hope that I don’t get a name for myself because of this, or have word spread around. I don’t think Spencer is known for any sort of tight-lipped behavior. Except maybe when it’s on a dick. I’ve gotta say, the kid knew what he was doing. Spencer also said that he usually bottoms, so kudos to him for switching things up tonight.

After Spencer left, I looked at my phone and had a message from Dan, which was delivered right after he left the Witch Cave.

Dan: “Listen, missy. I get you’re in a weird state of mind because of your teeth, but don’t do anything you don’t want to be writing about in your journal tomorrow. That’s all I’m saying on the subject.”

Well, at least someone was looking out for me. It was 2:11 a.m., and I told Dan that Spencer had just left. I figured he could fill in the blanks himself.

Washing the lotion we used as lube off my ass, and applying copious amounts of Vitamin E to the open wounds on my face, I got ready for bed. What a fucking day. I can’t believe I gave someone a blow job while I was missing teeth. I don’t care if it’s redundant, it has to be said: girl, you’re a hot fucking mess. A hot, fucking, toothless wonder mess.

Goodnight xo