I buy a star projector for 30 dollars. My friends in Grand Rapids are throwing me a going away party. It's space themed. We busted the light in the dining room/my soon-to-be-ex-bedroom so it would be deep space black by the time the party starts at 11. I thought 11 was late to start a party but my friends say, "No, it isn't."
           I dress up like a Space Robot. I'm not sure what a Space Robot is but I bought a nineties back-up dancer jumpsuit for 20 dollars at the Salvation Army two weeks before and I want to wear it. It is a size too small. It bunches up in the crotch so I have to pull at the legs all night like I'm doing a monkey dance. I bought silver hairspray from Party City for a dollar fifty, too. That's the robot part.

           I buy a star projector for 30 dollars. My friends in Grand Rapids are throwing me a going away party. It's space themed. We busted the light in the dining room/my soon-to-be-ex-bedroom so it would be deep space black by the time the party starts at 11. I thought 11 was late to start a party but my friends say, "No, it isn't."
           I dress up like a Space Robot. I'm not sure what a Space Robot is but I bought a nineties back-up dancer jumpsuit for 20 dollars at the Salvation Army two weeks before and I want to wear it. It is a size too small. It bunches up in the crotch so I have to pull at the legs all night like I'm doing a monkey dance. I bought silver hairspray from Party City for a dollar fifty, too. That's the robot part.
           The projector beams light through a dome that has a handful of scattered dots poked in to it. It's more like a miscellaneous dot projector, like a disco ball that cuts out the middleman. It spins, though, and that's cool. We all ended up sitting around that projector like a campfire. Space Bowie, Space Cowboy, and Carl Sagan sit near me. Carl Sagan broke up with his girlfriend the night before. He rests his head on my shoulder and puts his hand on my thigh. His glasses balance lopsided on his nose. I put my hand on his.
           "I think I'll bake some biscuits," he says.
           He finishes his gin and ginger ale.
           I finish my gin and ginger ale. I start to connect the dots in the glow-in-the-dark stars that I bought for 99 cents that day. Carl Sagan stuck them on the wall in the shape of a penis. I see different pictures, though. I stand up. Duncan comes in. Duncan and I had sex all summer. It's something to do and he's a nice guy, sometimes. He's a balding stage combat choreographer with the biggest rib cage I've ever seen. His bedroom door doesn't lock and one time when we were having sex he tried to jam it shut with a rapier so his roommate didn't walk in. Duncan and I were a secret. He doesn't dress up for my party. He says, "I just wanted to stop by to see you." I think that's nice. Duncan doesn't stay anywhere long. If he even gets there at all.
           I yank him into the dot projector room/dining room/ my soon-to-be-ex-bedroom and drape my arms around his neck. He puts stable hands on my waist. I look at him through the glitter tipped eyelashes I bought for eight dollars.
           "Will you stay?" I ask.
           "No, I have to get up for work tomorrow."
           "Oh, alright."
           He kisses me.
           "I would like to see you again before I leave," I tell him.
           "Definitely."
           He kisses me.
           "What are you doing tomorrow?" I ask.
           "Nothing, I don't think."
           "I'll text you then, okay?"
           "Definitely."
           He kisses me and then he leaves. He doesn't respond to my text. We don't have sex before I leave. Duncan's roommate accidentally takes Duncan's phone to work instead of his own.
           Sexy Alien and Space Cowboy talk about religion and abortion in the kitchen. I refill my gin and ginger ale. We're out of limes and ice. Andrew sways in the doorway like the top floor of a skyscraper. Andrew and Carl Sagan went to high school together. Sometimes Andrew and I talk about our families naked. Andrew asked his girlfriend to be his girlfriend the day before. He sees me and smiles and drops his plastic bottle of half finished whiskey. I smile, too.
           "Space Robot, you're really awesome," he slurs.
           "Well, thanks, Andrew, you are, too."
           "I'm sad that you're leaving. We got pretty, pretty close these last few weeks, I think."
           "Yeah."
           Andrew leans down to kiss me. I lean far back. I pat him on the chest.
           "Whoah, buddy. Not a good idea."
           He apologizes.
           "I'm sorry, Space Robot."
           "It's okay, Andrew."
           He picks up his plastic bottle.
           I go out to the porch. Rachel, who brings me a sunflower she bought at the farmer's market, is sitting out there.  I sit next to her and look out at the street.
           "I'm a little bit drunk," I say.
           "I made out with Josh on your back porch," she says.
           "Guess what I did," I say.
           "How many guesses do I get?" She asks.