The Mississippi Blues

About a year after COVID shut the world down and mass hysteria ensued the world was opened back up and life continued. While it seemed like a near-perfect facsimile of life BC - before COVID - it was hard to forget all that had happened; the world was more divided then ever; it almost seemed like chaos was to be the new normal.

Nine months after Terrence had ghosted me, and a month or so before I started talking to Shane, I was happily dividing my time between working full-time - grateful that the COVID rush was finally over and business was less insane - and helping to take care of my younger cousin. During the early days of the pandemic, my grandmother, perhaps expecting to die, or else not able to cope with being trapped in a toxic home, had resorted to becoming a full-fledged alcoholic. My uncle - my grandma's youngest child - had gone to Colorado in the fall to help his brother; I'd taken on the responsibilty of his kids - Jeffery and Julia. Jeffery was almost sixteen, but Julia was only nine. Their life had been nothing short of tragic with two addict parents; their mom had died suddenly after being estranged from them. My grandma had been the only semi-healthy parental figure in their lives; with her seemingly indomitable foundation cracked and falling apart more and more every day, I knew that I couldn't just abandon the kids, especially Julia.

In the early days, we passed the time on my days off making videos with Snapchat filters and baking, but eventually it evolved into playing board games, video games, watching movies, and going shopping together. Even though my uncle had only been gone for two weeks, I'd gotten used to spending time with the kids; that didn't stop once he was home. While my uncle wasn't as badly into drugs as the kids' mom had been, he was far from a saint; he dabbled in pills, weed, and alcohol, not to mention stealing from my grandmother and trying to push his insane conspiracy theory beliefs onto the kids. I felt that it was up to me to take on the mantle that my grandma had borne for so many years; I knew that I couldn't be as brave or unwavering as she had been, but I could be a beacon of light and hope in their otherwise dreary existences.

For a while, I was fulfilled knowing that I was being a mentor to kids who desperately needed someone to listen to and validate them, but as the months progressed, I was starting to crave a romantic partner once more, finally feeling like I had gotten over the Terrence fiasco. I had a job that I didn't completely hate, a nice car, $10,000 in the bank, cats to love, and children to care for; I almost had the complete package.

The town I lived in was not known for being very diverse; as of now - 2026 - there are only a few black and Hispanic families; the majority of the population are Catholics and Republicans. Camo is considered high fashion, and if you aren't pro-Trump you're considered a moron; I knew - after more than a decade in Pinconning - that I wasn't likely to find a partner there. I was surprised by how accepted I'd been when I'd come out at twenty - save for the period that I'd had long curly hair and worn eyeliner and mascara to work - but I knew that the pond was extremely shallow.

Once again, I downloaded Grindr. I was hoping that in the time I'd been away from the app that new guys would have moved to the area, or couples had split up, introducing fresh guys to the market. As I logged on, I was relieved to see that Terrence was not on there anymore, but I was disappointed to find that it was pretty much the same as I'd left it: the cute guys wouldn't talk to me, but the less-than-desirable ones were all over me. I felt like I was fated to forever be in a rut; and just like that I received a message from Riley.

At first, I was turned off by his blank profile. While I respected how hard it could be to come out, I didn't understand the point of making a profile on a dating or hookup app if you weren't going to include a picture. His stats said that he was twenty-one with an athletic build. He seemed too good to be true, but still, I responded. Our first few interactions were dry, but once he included a voice text, I found myself interested. He had a deep voice - a huge turn-on for me - as well as a southern accent. While I normally found southern accents to be annoying and unintelligible, Riley's was hot. The pictures he sent made me swoon in a way that I hadn't for a long time; he had piercing blue eyes - not at all my usual - with short, jet-black hair, a smile that showed the most even, white teeth I'd ever seen, as well as a smooth muscular body. I was in lust immediately.

I normally don't like to send voice texts because I hate my voice, it's very soft, often nasally, and. to be quite brutally honest, pretty faggy, but Riley was desperate to hear what I sounded like; I grudgingly indulged him and he responded positively. It was easy to talk to him, I found him taking up more and more of my headspace than I had thought he would. I figured he'd just want sex; we exchanged nudes, much to my delight. His body, while hot, was nothing compared to the perfect dick he showed me; it was long, straight, and appeared to be not too girthy; my mouth watered just seeing it on my phone screen. As it turned out, Riley was a top, which meant that either I would have to get used to bottoming if I wanted him, or we'd have to stay in the friend zone. I did not want to be in the friend zone.

During that time, I had grown out my beard. Much to my surprise, the thick hairs grew in red, a total contrast to the dark brown/black of the rest of my body hair. Riley found my beard incredibly attractive and took to calling me, 'Red.' Trying to be cute, I started calling him 'Mississippi.' I learned that he had been moved to the area from Mississippi, that he had one tatt00 - and said he'd never get another - and that he was a hopeless romantic. We quickly moved from Grindr to Snapchat, which made me happy; it made it all seem more real, more grounded.

On Easter, I orchestrated the egg hunt for Julia - with some help from Jeffery - while chatting with Riley. It shocked me how in synch we were; he got all of my references. When I mentioned that Ghost was one of my favorite movies, he sent voice texts of him quoting the movie; when I mentioned that Mariah Carey was my favorite singer, he sent a clip of him whistling the whistle notes from Emotions. I found myself anxious to meet him, to gaze on him in person, to see how someone so perfect for me could exist. He respected that I was trying to be a parental figure for Julia, but that didn't stop of from talking all of that Easter until he had to go to bed. All day, I could feel my walls collapsing, felt myself allowing the crush that was quickly developing. Had I finally met a funny, cute, loyal guy to love?

I awoke the next day and smiled when I saw that I had a notification from Riley. It was a voice text telling me that he was heading into work, but that he'd been thinking of me and that he wanted me to have a good day. I felt my heart melting at how cute it all was; I didn't even care that it was rather sudden. Still, I instinctively checked Grindr, though I didn't really care what happened on there. Later that evening, Riley sent another voice text asking if I'd been on Grindr at all that day. I knew that I shouldn't lie, that even if I did, he could log on and see that I'd been active several hours earlier; I told him the truth, which upset him. He wasn't mad, but he sounded dejected, no matter how much I tried to assure him that I had simply done it out of habit; to prove my point I deleted Grindr there and then, sending him a screenshot to prove it. That made him happy, or at least better; he asked me out. I happily accepted, but when he told me that he wanted to come pick me up, I had to be honest with him. Not only was my grandma's house chaotic, it was also extremely messy. The more that my grandma sunk into her depression of brandy, the more control my uncle started to take of the house; the yard quickly started to fill up with junk cars and random pieces of equipment. With his mother too drunk to care what was going on around her, he had free reign to be as much of a hoarder as he wanted to be. To top that all off, I wasn't sure how my uncle would react to Riley coming over, especially since I was spending so much time with the kids.

I tried to tell Riley that it was better for us to just meet in Bay City, but he insisted that he wanted to pick me up in his truck, like a proper date. When I finally told him that he couldn't come to my house, he grew cold and petulant. No matter how much I was honest with him and tried to assure him that I wanted to avoid any drama with my uncle, Riley's feelings were hurt. I tried to make it better by jokingly asking him if he was going to let me touch his dick on our date; I was aiming for flirty and passionate, but that wasn't how he took it. He got even more upset, accusing me of only wanting sex from him; that couldn't have been farther from the truth. Sure, I had loved the dick pic that he'd sent me, and I definitely wanted to suck him, that was only one piece of the whole that was what I wanted from Riley; for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had found a sweet, genuine guy that I could give my heart to, who would protect it. I saw myself breaking out of my shell, tackling the world - for the first time - without fear.

Despite how upset he was with me, we kept talking. One night my grandmother got drunker than usual and fell out of bed; it took Jeffery and I both to get her back into bed. It broke my heart seeing such a strong figure in my life reduced to being a complete mess, pissing and shitting herself, puking on herself. I tried to put on a brave face for the kids - especially Julia - but it was tearing me apart. My grandma and I had been very close since I was in high school, even more so once I'd moved in with her. No matter what happened in life, I knew that it would work out okay because whenever a challenge presented itself, my grandma pushed steadfastly through it, making it look easy. When she was raising six kids while my grandpa was sick with MS, she'd worked two jobs to support her family and put herself through nursing school. She was a hero to so many of her grandkids; it was terrifying to watch her unending strength fade away, to see her lose control so completely, falling into a pit of despair that she couldn't crawl out of. I reached out to Riley, trying to get some comfort; he promised that he would call me that evening after he'd gotten home and showered, but he didn't.

The day of our first date came around. Despite the tension between us, I was very much looking forward to meeting him in person. I figured that if he knew me, could see me in real life, he would understand that I'd only been joking about being sexual on our first date, that he'd see that it was just a way of protecting myself from being hurt. I cleared my schedule that day, knowing that he wouldn't get out of work until five or six, but as the clock hit seven and then eight, I couldn't help but feel dejected and more than a little pissed off. I'd tried messaging him several times, but while he had once opened my messages on his breaks, he had not opened a single one of my messages yet. Later that night, I finally got a reply from him, though it was tepid at best. He said that we hadn't had concrete plans to go on the date, so I shouldn't be upset; that only resulted in making me more upset. I told him that he owed me an apology, that we had had plans, but it seemed as though he were punishing me for a stupid joke I'd made. Riley blocked me the f0llowing day.

I took it hard when he blocked me. I didn't understand how he could have gone from crushing on me so intensely to hating me in just a week and a half; sure, I had gone on Grindr once, but I'd explained that it had just been habit. Was he really that upset about a joke? When we'd talked on Easter, he'd told me that he loved eating ass, that he could eat an ass for hours; it wasn't like we hadn't exchanged nudes or been sexual with each other. Was I in the wrong? I'd tried very hard to show him that I wasn't just interested in him for the python in his pants.

About a year later, I found Riley on Grindr again. We chatted a little, but he didn't seem too interested in meeting. I tried once again to apologize for the joke, explaining that if I'd known it would hurt him or make him think I was only interested in sex, I wouldn't have made it. He warmed up a little after that but then disappeared again.

The next time I came across Riley on Grindr, he was closer to me than he had been before. His new profile picture was a shirtless pic of him in a bathroom mirror, showing off his muscles and his heart melting smile. His username was "Head?" which broke my heart even more; had I killed the romantic in him? The Riley that I had been getting to know would not have been trolling Grindr looking for random, NSA head. As I messaged him, trying to get any kind of response, he changed his username to "Threesome?" I wasn't proud of myself, but I kept messaging him, desperate t0 talk to him; I wanted him to know that he was better than that, that even though he hated me, I still was interested in him. I wanted to show him that I was who he had wanted me to be. He didn't respond.

I haven't seen Riley on Grindr for years. The last time we talked - on Snapchat - he'd been kind, saying that he missed our voice texts and that I seemed like a different person now that I was living on my own and not deeply entrenched in so much chaos; I assured him that I was a different person, that I could finally be myself without fear of my uncle lashing out. We talked for a bit before he said he had to go take a shower; he said he would message me later, but I never heard from him again.

I know it's insane to still wonder what ever happened there. Even if we had had great chemistry via chat, obviously there was some incompatibility there for things to go south so quickly; for a twenty-one-year-old, he had seemed mature, an old soul...did that make me the problem, then? Had I let my crippling fear of allowing myself to be vulnerable ruin something that could have been so good for both of us? Sometimes I like to picture that there's another world where Riley and I got together and it was magical. In that world we are madly in love, living far away from all of the drama I've known. He serenades me, brings me flowers, tells me that I'm gorgeous.

I know that that ship has sailed and that the whole affair was just a fantasy, but for the brief few weeks it was happening, I had hope that I had never had before. I had felt seen and understood, appreciated. I hadn't been delighted to learn that he drank - especially given the situation with my grandma - but he'd assured me that it was only one or two beers a night. I couldn't help but wonder if the alcohol had played a role in his transformation from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde, if he had possessed strong traumas of his own that had been triggered by my non-committal flippancy.

Whenever I'm on Grindr, I always keep an eye out for Riley, most just so I can see that he's alive and okay. I'm sure that he's found a great guy and that I rarely - if ever- cross his mind, but I'm far too sentimental for that. I think of everyone who has touched my life - even in the most tangential way - occasionally. I often wonder what happened to friends from my time in Port Huron, or grade school bullies; no one is really ever gone for me. Wherever he is, I hope that he is happy, that his life is full of love and success and immeasurable joy. I am still searching for love, but the older I get, the more I wonder if I actually want love - and all of its complexities - or simply the fantasy, the idea of what love could be. I know that my life isn't over; I still have questions, I will always have questions. The day that I stop questioning everything is the day that my life will be fulfilled.