100 Dates, 100 Boys

Coming Soon...

2007-08-17T10:27:00.000-07:00

http://thenewrulesofmylife.blogspot.com/

Date #100: The Big Date

2007-07-25T17:40:00.000-07:00

I see a dark stage.

There's a staircase--a long, high staircase like the kind in old 1920's musicals. At the top of the staircase is a guy.

The music to "All I Want for Christmas" starts.

I hear singing.

I didn't want to be date thirty
Twenty two or sixty-three

A spotlight comes up on Nick--he's the guy at the top of the staircase.

I just want that great big number
That's the only date for me
I just want to be the one
Standing there when Froggy's done

Lights shine through all over the place revealing lots of people onstage.

You know that it's true
Kevin, make me Date #100
...With you

Suddenly the lights blare--Nick, Dwight, Scooter, Brian, Turner, and all the other boys are there. They're all in tuxes, and they have...choreography.

I don't want to be a rebound
I cannot be second best

BRIAN:

I don't want to stand there waiting
While you go and date the rest

TURNER:

I won't make plans till I know if
You're hanging out with Dwight or Nick

SCOOTER
I'll be up all night awake and--
Dreaming of that perfect--

TURNER: Scooter!

DWIGHT:

'Cause I want you to end the fun
Knowing that you've found the one
What more can I do?
Broccoli, make me Date 100 With you

All of a sudden there are canes and top hats. I think they're forming a kick line.

NICK:

All the boys you've dated
Never seem to work out
And it sounds like you don't even
Know what that's about

BRIAN:

And everyone is asking
Why you keep multi-tasking

TURNER:

Kevin, won't you please

BOYS:

Please!

SCOOTER:

Come on, get down on your knees

NICK: Scooter!

DWIGHT:

Won't you please say that
You're picking me-e-e-e?

Now they're tapping. I think trapezes and trampolines might even be involved.

NICK:

Oh, I don't want to be the first date
After all the fuss is gone
I just want to be your baby
I've been waiting all year long

I just want to end things right
Tell me that it's me tonight
What more can I do?
Kevin, make me date 100

With you...

BOYS:

Make me Date 100 with you
Baby!

Nick proceeds to riff as--

I sit up in bed in a cold sweat.

ME: And that is why I should not have gone to Christmas in July at Dark Lady.

BRIAN: Keyword: July.

I was recounting my dream to Brian the next day at the N.C.

BRIAN: Kevin, it's taking you forever to write this last entry.
ME: Could that be because I haven't gone on the date yet?
BRIAN: Possibly. Why haven't you?
ME: Because I don't want to end things the way I think they're going to end.
BRIAN: With you in the shower weeping?
ME: Pretty much.

Let's face it. What kind of an ending was this going to be? All great finales have some sort of grandness about them. All the old characters come back. There's a death. A birth. A marriage. Bob Newhart wakes up next to his wife from his first show! Stuff like that!

BRIAN: But this isn't a tv show. This is your life. It's not going to have a tidy little bow at the end of it.
ME: It's also not going to have a boyfriend at the end of it.
BRIAN: Just as long as it doesn't end with you standing at the head of a table with all of your friends looking at you while you say--
ME: All of you are the loves of my life. Yeah, that's lame.
BRIAN: You should let J.K. Rowling write the last blog for you.
ME: She'd probably dub Scooter 'He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Screwed.'

How was I going to find the guy for Date #100? Should it be someone new? Just keep it simple and do a regular date and sign off with elegance and poise? Or go out with someone I know will end things with a bang.

BRIAN: What about Ryan Gosling? That would awesome.
ME: Yeah, unfortunately, I don't live inside the wardrobe, Lucy. Come back to reality.
BRIAN: Oh God, Amy's calling me.
ME: Wow, haven't heard that name in awhile.
BRIAN: Yeah, after I read your hag entry where she scared you off, I realized I didn't really even like her. I just kept her around because I'd known her for so long.
ME: I think that might be why I keep you around.
BRIAN: Hardy har har. Why don't you kill me off in the big finale?
ME: Will you stop calling it a big finale?
BRIAN: I can't help it. It is a big deal.
ME: Even now that I'm looking to get the hell out of this state as fast as I can so that meeting someone might just be pointless?
BRIAN: Yes, even now.
ME: Why?
BRIAN: Because you could meet someone who might want to make you stay.
ME: Mmm, somehow I doubt that.

And Now, a Message from the Boys

ROQUE: Hey Kev, good luck on your 100th Date. If you ever want to take another spin on that coffee table, you just let me know. Rock out with your c**k out, man.

JEFF: Hi Kevin. If you ever reconsider filming your blog, I'll still willing to make it into the summer blockbuster it deserves to be.

This summer...

Get down! Get down!

One man

He's got a gun!

No I don't!

100 Boys

Yes, you do. You have to have a gun. It's suspenseful!

The World's Biggest Gangbang

What? Nobody's getting gangbanged!

In a world, where men long to be gangbanged...

Stop that!

JEFF: Still have to iron out the kinks, but you get the picture.
BROCK: Speaking of getting the picture, I'd love to be a cameraman on the project...now that I know gangbanging is involved.

This summer...
100 Dates, 100 Boys

And One Big Gangbang

Oh Christ...

JEROME: Kevin, I heard you were thinking of leaving Rhode Island now that your blog is finished. So I thought I'd send you off...with a song. P.S. I'm totally going down the octave, so don't judge.

We're all so sure
We're all so wise
No limits
No boundaries
No compromise.

God, I love me some Wild Party. Andrew Lippa, when are we getting a new musical, huh? Vamp, vamp, vamp--Come on, Terry. Bring me home!

TERRY: Happy 100 Dates, Kevin!

JEROME

Times go by
Plans grow stale
People die--GASP!
And parties fail...
How did we come to this?

The issue of me leaving seemed to make everyone uncomfortable. Even though everyone I know has at some point talked about moving, somehow the idea of me moving just shocked everyone to a state of constant discomfort.

TURNER: It's just that before you were someone who was here. Who was staying here. Now you're someone whose leaving.
ME: But not right away.
TURNER: Still, your status has been moved to 'leaving.' It's like you're different now.

Turner and I were at Paye's picking him up from a dance class since his car was in the shop. We had decided to see if we remembered some old ballroom moves while we waited and discussed the big date.

TURNER: I like the idea of bringing people back from the previous dates.
ME: And how would I go about doing that?
TURNER: I don't know. Reunion show?

Broccoli of Love
The Reunion Show

Hosted by La La

LA LA: Snobby Gays, what do you have to say to Kevin?
DREW (SNOBBY GAY #1): We would have rocked his world.
VINCENT (SNOBBY GAY #2): By the way, we'll be performing at Coochie's on the Strip all week.
LA LA: There's a Strip in Providence?
CHRISTOPHER: La La, can I address these bitches?
DREW: Who you calling bitches?
CRAZY CLEAN AND SOBER: Y'all need to shut your asses up! This is why none of you got a second date!
LA LA: Okay, why don't we--
ANTHONY: Yo, you didn't get no second date either, pizzle. So why you talking?
CRAZY CLEAN AND SOBER: I know this south county trash isn't speaking to me.
ANTHONY: Who you calling trash?
DREW: I'm about to cut somebody!
LA LA: Okay, commercial!
BROCK: Why don't you all fight naked and then I can film it?
LA LA: Commercial!

Up Next:
Kirk Cameron is 55
...And Christian

ME: Forget it. I can't stand La La.
TURNER: Me either. Whose name is actually La La?
ME: Hookers and Nick Toon characters.

At this point, Turner tried taking over the lead, and I let him, only because I still have no rhythm or sense of movement.

TURNER: Just as long as you're happy, Kev. That's what's important.
ME: I'm happy I guess. It's just weird realizing that everything you thought your life was going to be--
TURNER: Stop! There is no way of finishing that sentence without sounding cliched.
ME: You're right. Suffice it to say, after 100 dates, I thought I'd have met that perfect guy by now.
TURNER: Maybe you're not ready to meet him. Maybe that's what all this has taught you. That your life right now isn't going to be about dating someone.
ME: I can see your point. It's just...
TURNER: Yeah?
ME: I never had a bad day that ended with falling asleep next to someone and hearing 'I love you.'

Turner dipped me.

TURNER: You'll know that feeling again. You're only 23. Stop acting like your life is over. You've got friends who love you. A job. And you're skinny as hell.
ME: And you're not?
TURNER: I'm just saying.

He lifted me up just as Paye walked over.

PAYE: I see you're being swept off your feet.
ME: I'm lucky I wasn't swept onto my ass.
PAYE: Still psyching yourself out over Date 100?
ME: Does everybody know that I'm freaking?
TURNER: You've gone out on 99 dates. How about giving yourself a break?
ME: I will. But first I need to close out the blog.
TURNER: Then get to it, boy.

Easier said than done.

And Now, a Message from the Boys

GERRY: Kevin, it was a pleasure being one of your dates. Of course, it wasn't the first time I've made it into a blog. I'm often quoted on Arianna Huffington's blog. That's how Anderson Cooper found me, and...Well...the rest is history.
ANTHONY: Bitch, your ass better stay away from Anderson Cooper! That shit's all mine!

MARK: Kevin, if it hadn't been for you, Oliver and I would never have found each other.
OLIVER: I just love shooting my #$%* all Mark's #$#%.
MARK: He does. And he loves talking about it even more.
TROY: And occasionally even I get involved.
OLIVER: He's a dirty little #$*&# licker this one.
TROY: Stop Oliver, you're getting me hot and bothered.
OLIVER: You're a dirty little wimp.
TROY: God, take me now!
OLIVER: Can't we just talk about it some more?
MARK: Thanks, Kevin!

NELSON: You made more than one happy couple, Kevin.
UNDERAGE BOY: You have me and Nelson singing 'Matchmaker, Matchmaker.'
NELSON: And as soon as I beat this statutory rape charge--
UNDERAGE BOY: We're moving in together!
NELSON: Isn't love grand?

BEN: Speaking as one of your exes, I have to say that I was really impressed by the blog. You've come a long way, baby.
TRAVIS: Yeah, you definitely have. From the hard times and the good.
BEN: We want...to celebrate you...baby.
TRAVIS: We want to praise you like we--
BEN: Travis, we're reciting the lyrics to 'Praise You' by Fatboy Slim.
TRAVIS: I know. I gave it to the teleprompter guy when I couldn't think of anything original to say. Besides, messages from your exes are awkward.
BEN: Maybe you're an ex because you're a wackjob who quotes a 90's techno artist instead of coming up with his own thoughts.
TRAVIS: Fine, let's hear some of your original thoughts.
BEN: Um...Kevin, you're going to get knocked down...but you'll get up again. You only get what you give.
TRAVIS: Very true. You only get what you give.

My, I have a lovely looking track record.

SCOOTER: That can't be physically possible.
ME: Scooter, it's not rocket science.
SCOOTER: Are you sure?

Scooter and I were at his house--in his basement--watching tv, and since this is the end of the blog as we know it, and since he has been a good friend to it, I figured I'd give him a little treat.

I told him what the Ashton Kutcher was.

SCOOTER: I can't do that to someone. I could pull something--on me or them!
ME: Hey, I didn't say you were going to like it.
SCOOTER: I like it. I'm just not sure I can do it.
ME: All the better.

Something about Scooter's frown suggested that he was hoping it was more of a universal move. I decided to change the subject.

ME: How did the poll on your blog turn out?
SCOOTER: Half my readers think you should make me Date 100.
ME: Right, and the other half that aren't insane?
SCOOTER: Twenty percent said Charlie, and twenty percent said Jesse.
ME: And the other ten percent?
SCOOTER: Split up amongst Dwight, Danny, the Snobby Gays, and your Friend.
ME: Your readers are no help.
SCOOTER: You know if you'd let me call my cousin who knows Reichen--
ME: Forget it, Scooter.
SCOOTER: Okay.

In five...four...three...two...

SCOOTER: So, since you're here, do you want to fool around?
ME: Good to know you'll never let me down.

The Final Rose Ceremony

Standing before me, I have Charlie and Jesse. I only hold one rose in my hand.

ME: Guys, this has been a really tough decision.
CHARLIE: Wait a minute, are you for real with this? You're actually going to dismiss one of us and give the other guy a rose?
ME: That's how it works.
JESSE: Kev, no offense, but you're not exactly Andrew Firestone.
ME: Yeah, well I don't see a Trista standing in front of me either.
CHARLIE: Hey, we both could have been the one, but you blew it.
ME: Um, that's only because I decided to be nice and leave certain things out of the blog.

BROCK: I'm filming all this.

ME: Will you go away please?
CHARLIE: What do you mean you left stuff out?
ME: Um, like how your moods changed faster than a runway model during Fashion Week or how you never called on my birthday.
JESSE: Wow, you did that?
ME: Oh Jesse, I wouldn't critique if I were you. After all, you have slept with Allan since I've met you, right?
JESSE: It's hard. I mean, he's right across the hall.
ME: I'm sorry I can't put a happy little smile on everything, because I'm sure the viewers are going to be disappointed but...

Next Up on the Fantasy Channel--

...Some things just aren't as appealing once you know all about them. That's one thing I've learned from this little experiment.

And a phone's ringing.

No, it's really ringing.

ME: Hello?
VOICE: Hey, this is Kevin, right?
ME: Yeah, it's me. Who's this?
VOICE: The guy whose number you deleted.
ME: Uh, what do you--Oh my God!

I think that was the moment I fell out of bed and landed on my copy of Against the Day by Thomas Pynchon, which broke my fall.

DWIGHT: So now are you going to tell me who this guy is?
ME: He's this guy I went on a perfect date with five years ago who never called me back after the date.

I was helping Dwight and his mother pack for their annual trip to their family's beach house in Cape Cod. I had been invited to join them, but I wasn't sure I could handle them both--even just on the way there.

MRS. BROWN: Did he say why he never called back?
DWIGHT: Probably because he's a tool.
ME: Apparently he went through some huge identity crisis.
DWIGHT: Sounds like a real winner.
MRS. BROWN: Dwight, don't be bitter.
DWIGHT: I learned from the best, Mother.
ME: I think...I think he's going to be the 100th date.

Mrs. Brown looked delight, Dwight not so much.

MRS. BROWN: That's wonderful, Kevin. Make it a good one.
ME: I'll try.

She gave me a hug and then left the room to go find her hemp sweater.

ME: I know you're not thrilled.
DWIGHT: I just...I guess I always hoped you'd come around.
ME: Dwight, if it's any consolation--you can do so much better than me.
DWIGHT: I don't want to do better than you. You would be fine.
ME: Wow, I always forget what a good sweet talker you are.
DWIGHT: So could this guy be the one?
ME: I thought he was...five years ago...now I'm not so sure.
DWIGHT: What a perfect little ending.
ME: I wonder if this happened because I needed it to so badly.
DWIGHT: Sometimes life is just appropriate like that. It gives good people a break.

He went back to folding shirts, but I walked over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

ME: You know I love you more than my luggage, right?
DWIGHT: Yes, Clairee, I do.

And Now, a Message from the Boys

VINNIE: Kevin, in honor of your last date, the Republican Gay Men's Chorus has decided to reenact one of the scenes from your favorite movie. Hit it!

A restaurant, with a family gathered around a large table...and a homosexual.

Wait, is this My Best Friend's Wedding? With gay Republicans?

ADAM:

The moment I wake up
Before I put on my make-up

REPUBLICAN GAYS:

I say a little prayer for you

JACK

At work I just take time
And all through my coffee break time

REPUBLICAN GAYS

I say a little prayer for you

ALL

Forever and ever

MARTIN

You'll stay in my heart
And I will love you

ALL
Forever and ever

BIG BAG BOY: Hi Kevin, we're the guys you never gave names to, asshole!
MORNING BOY: So I'm not a person just because I like to get up early?
BIG BAG BOY: Or me because I carry a large woman's handbag?
MORNING BOY: Well, that is kind of weird.
BIG BAG BOY: It's an accessory, people! We're living in 2008, get with it!
MORNING BOY: It's 2007.
BIG BAG BOY: Whatever! Who gets up before noon anyway?

JACK

I run for the bus, dear
While riding I think of us, dear

AIDAN: Happy 100th Dates, Kevin. Too bad we couldn't have hung out again, but after you got trapped in your swimsuit, I severely doubted your ability to...well...function in society.
TUCKER: Yeah, and you suck at cuddling.
AIDAN: That might have ben because you were naked while you were cuddling him.
TUCKER: And the problem there would be?

REPUBLICAN GAYS

Forever and ever!

DEREK: I can't believe you blew me off just because I work at McDonald's.
EDUARDO: Y porque no habla Ingles!
DEREK: What?
EDUARDO: No habla Ingles.
DEREK: Dude, he actually went out on a date with you? You don't even speak English. Hey Kevin, way to blow me off but keep the immigrant!
EDUARDO: Que?

GREG

My darling believe me
For me there is nooooo
--One but one

WES: We were poorly developed.
DOUG: Yeah, pretty much.

GREG

And I'm in love with you
Answer my prayer baby!

SCOTT: We could have had something real, Kevin. But unfortunately you lived more than twenty minutes away.
MAX: And I joined the priesthood.
JONAH: And I owned rats.
DYLAN: I was poor.
IVAN: I had a boyfriend.
JUSTIN: I was the boyfriend.
JONAH: More than one rat.
SCOTT: Although I'm thinking of moving to Providence, because honestly, nobody will come visit me since I live in Westerly.
IVAN: God, I would never go to Westerly.
JUSTIN: No way.
DYLAN: Do either of you guys have a dollar?

MAX

I say a little prayer for you!

Who isn't saying a prayer for me at the moment?

I'm on my 100th date.

ME: So tell me all about this identity crisis.
GABE: It was just this period I needed to go through where I didn't date anyone. I just went really inside myself.
ME: And there wasn't a phone inside yourself?
GABE: Kevin--
ME: Gabe, I called you every holiday like a loser.
GABE: You're not a loser. I loved those calls.
ME: Then you should have sent one back.
GABE: It was rough. I...I was seeing someone.
ME: Of course.
GABE: A woman.
ME: Even better.

And now, the F**ked Up View

STEPHEN: Our first hot topic, open relationships. I'm all for them.
BLAKE: Of course you are, you're in one.
STEPHEN: But Blake, isn't your marriage open? You have sex with other men.
BLAKE: That's because I'm married to a woman.
BARBARA: Wait a minute, I'm not in the right studio, am I?
STEPHEN: Don't worry, Barbara. No crazy lesbians here.
SHAWN: I don't really believe in relationships at all, per se. I think you should just tell people you like girls but then have sex with men, but not actually have sex with the girls.
BLAKE: Yeah, that works until your mid-twenties, then people get suspicious.
WILL: What does per se mean?
CLINGY DINGY: I would never cheat on my boyfriend. I would love him and buy him flowers every day to let him know he was special.
BARBARA: You're pathetic.
STEPHEN: Well, let's all take a little time to enjoy the view!

That actually just made me long for Elisabeth.

Gabe was still trying to make amends for his five-year absence.

GABE: When I got your message the other day, I panicked. I didn't want to lose you for real.
ME: So all this time you were fine with not calling me because you knew I'd always keep tabs on you?
GABE: Kevin, look, that's all water under the bridge. We're out on a date. Let's have a nice time, okay?
ME: I...

100th Date.

ME: I...

Don't let it be a downer.

GABE: Okay?

Suck it up!

ME: Okay.

So we walked along the east side catching up, and I kept looking at Gabe expecting those old feelings to resurge. I mean, this is the guy I have thought non-stop about for the past five years, but standing next to him now, I felt like I had been fixed up on a blind date by someone who didn't really know me well at all...myself...from five years ago.

GABE: So, do you live nearby?
ME: It doesn't really matter if I do.
GABE: Oh really? Why?
ME: Because the date ends here.
GABE: Okay, I can respect you wanting to take it slow.

Oh God, I feel a monologue coming on--

ME: It's not that at all actually. Originally I thought I'd be all over you within seconds of seeing you again, but the truth is...I can't get past the fact that you listened to my voice at least three times a year for five years and never called me back to let me know you were okay or that you didn't want me to keep torturing myself, and when it looked like I was finally going to stop, you pop right back in again. Maybe me from five years ago would have been okay with that and thought he could still build a life with someone who was capable of that degree of...of...assholeness, but I'm not that guy anymore. I'm not even the guy I was a year ago. A year ago I would have thought, Make this work! Latch onto any guy you can, but now I know I don't have to. Because there are lots of other guys out there. Some better than you, some worse, but there are other options, and I don't have to spend five years attaching all my hopes to one. Have a good night, Gabe--and don't bother calling.

And with that, I walked away from him.

Talk about closure.

And Now, a Message from the Boys

MORGAN: Great job with the blog, Kevin. Now remember, don't end the finale like this--

A diner in Jersey. Me, Brian, Turner, and Dwight sitting at a table eating onion rings.

BRIAN: I hate onion rings.
ME: Me, too.

A guy walks by me. He looks fishy. I think Scooter's slept with him. Then another guy walks in, also one of Scooter's.

TURNER: Guys, is it just me or is everyone in here really shady?
DWIGHT: With all the time you guys spend in gay bars, I'm surprised you noticed.

Dwight puts a nickel in the jukebox. Journey starts to play.

DWIGHT: What the hell? I picked Donna Summer!

He hits it and "Dim All the Lights" starts to play as the screen goes black.

SEAN: Greetings from London, Kev. Wish you were here!
IAN: He could have gone to London and he didn't? What a fool.
SEAN: Why are we presenting our message together?
IAN: Oh, because we both have ties to Britain.
SEAN: And you're gay as well or is it just the accent?

CONNOR: Hey Kevin, I miss you, buddy.
ME: I miss you, too, Connor.
CONNOR: Whoa, I thought I was leaving you a message.
ME: Yeah, but then I picked up.
CONNOR: Oh...well, this is awkward.

ALLAN: Hey Kevin, greetings from your friends back in the olden days.
TEDDY: Allan, doesn't he hate you?
ALLAN: Yeah, so? Every blog needs a bad guy.
TOMMY: That would be me, thanks.
ALLAN: Uh, I think I have it covered.
TOMMY: I was way more manipulative than you were--
TEDDY: Guys, I wasn't even a date. That's really insulting.
ALLAN: You couldn't be the bad guy on a bad 80's sitcom--
TOMMY: Bite me--
ALLAN: Oh bite me, real mature--

So that was it. My last date...for the blog anyway.

NICK: So no more dates for awhile?
ME: Who else is there to date?
NICK: Oh, don't be crazy. There's always people to date.

Nick and I were at the karaoke bar doing a post-date wrap-up. We were waiting for the other guys to show up.

ME: I don't know.
NICK: Don't know what?
ME: If there actually is anyone out there. You'd think I'd be sure by now, but I feel like if I come up with an answer it's not going to be one that I like.
NICK: Just remember, it's the end of the blog--not of you.
ME: You know, this blog was the first thing I actually committed to in...God, in terms of projects, the first thing ever.
NICK: And how does it feel to follow something through to the end?
ME: Good. Really good.
NICK: So take that with you. That feeling. That good feeling. You started something and you finished it. Maybe you didn't get the ending you wanted, but think of what you have now that you didn't have a year ago.

Friends. Lots of friends. New experiences. A new appreciation of dating and relationships. The wisdom to avoid dinner parties at all costs.

ME: Yeah, I guess I am a lot better off.
NICK: Not only that, but you're up, baby. Go sing.

Hey, you don't have to tell me twice.

ME:

Wake up kids
We got the dreamer's disease
Age 14
They got you down on your knees
So polite
We're busy still saying please

And Now, a Message from the Boys

MICHAEL: Way to go man, you #$#% like a Marine.

But when the night is falling

AARON: I still think it's weird you can't just drive around in a car like a normal person, but it's okay I guess.

You cannot find the light...light

DANNY: You're a really cool guy, and don't worry, you'll find what you're looking for someday.

If you feel your dreams are dying

MITCHELL: I'm going to miss reading your blog! But I'm starting my own now. 200 Dates, 200 Boys. I want to beat your record.

Hold tight...

You've got the music in you
Don't let go
You've got the music in you
One dance left
This world is going to pull through

ME: So, what did we learn from all this?
FRIEND: The internet should be used for looking up porn, not for reading about some gay boy's dating exploits?
ME: That, yes.
FRIEND: How do you feel?
ME: Well, I think about the reason I started writing this--that book I read--Julie and Julia--at the end of it the author said she credited with Julia Child being like someone who pulled her from the ocean as she was drowning, even though she'd never met her.
FRIEND: Good thing that f**king duck stuffer did something useful in her life.
ME: I feel like that's what this was for me. It gave me something to hold onto even when things were going bad. It was like, no matter how awful something was, I could always take control over it again by typing it up and showing that I wasn't afraid to tell everyone about it.
FRIEND: Are you saying the blog is your culinary lesbian lifeboat?
ME: No, Friend, you're my Julia Child.
FRIEND: Oh, honey...Fuck off.

We only get what we give
We only get what we give
We only get what we give

Thank you to everyone whose read this, whether there are 2 of you or 200. Doing this has made my life infinitely more enjoyable and I hope it's at least put a smile on someone else's face once in awhile. You never know the power that resides in saying to someone else "I've been where you've been, and you can be where I am now." One more quote by one of my favorite people--"You did then what you knew how to do, and when you knew better, you did better."

Please feel free to say hello whenever you like Kevin0719@aol.com. And check back in September where there might just be a new social experiment waiting...

Date #99: The Last Dinner Party

2007-07-16T14:09:00.000-07:00

I was standing outside Dwight's house when it hit me.

Wow, it's taken almost 23 years, but it finally happened.

So I walked back into the house and sang "Sunday."

Wait, I probably need to back up a minute.

Scooter had arranged to have--what we all swore--would be the final dinner party. In return for this guarantee, I promised to grant his cousin Terry's wish of being one of my dates. (Because it's such an honor, you get a pin and everything.)

Not that Scooter's cousin was anything like Scooter. He's a music major from New York in town for the summer AND he's an accompanist, which means I'd pretty much eat Dwight's cooking merely to befriend him...

Oh wait, I was going to have to do that anyway.

The dinner party started off with Turner relating the story of Paye was mad at him for talking to Gary last week.

TURNER: I mean, we used to be best friends! We used to talk all the time! If there's a chance I could rekindle that friendship--
BRIAN: See, 'rekindle' really isn't a word you use for friendships. Maybe that's what got Paye upset.
NICK: Or maybe it was the fact that he then caught Turner texting Gary twenty times that night.
BRIAN: It wasn't twenty times!
NICK: That's what you said.
SCOOTER: I have a solution. Everybody pass your phone to the person two places left of you.

We all did, even though I had a bad feeling where this was going.

SCOOTER: Since this is our last dinner party, I think we should have a little purging ritual.
DWIGHT: If this involves voodoo dolling Hillary, I'm all about it.
ME: What are we doing Scooter?
SCOOTER: Kevin, you are going to delete the number under 'Richard D' in my phone.
BRIAN: Who's Richard D?
SCOOTER: This really hot drugged up loser I text every time I'm drunk.
TURNER: Oh no, I see where this is going.
SCOOTER: I will delete Gary's number from Turner's phone.
TURNER: No, you won't!
BRIAN: Turner, it's not like he can't call you. This way you won't be tempted to contact him. That's all.
NICK: So who's Terry deleting then, Brian?
BRIAN: Oh...there's nobody in my phone worth deleting.
NICK: P***y.
ALL OF US: Eww...

Turner looked at Brian with a steely gaze.

TURNER: If Scooter's deleting Gary, then Terry is deleting Connor.
ME: You still talk to Connor?
TURNER: And they're usually always drunken one-way convos.
BRIAN: Can't he just delete Scooter's number instead?
TERRY: I feel awkward about this. I don't really know any of you.
NICK: No better way to get to know somebody than to help them cut a cord. Delete Christopher, Brian.
ME: Now, that's a good suggestion.
SCOOTER: Here, fucking, here!
TERRY: I guess you could delete my last boyfriend Ren.
TURNER: You know we don't know him. He could just be having us delete his chiropracter's number or something.
TERRY: You can check the twenty-five texts I sent to him last week. I have them all saved--don't ask me why.
TURNER: Ren it is.
DWIGHT: Nick, you can delete my mother.
SCOOTER: Try again.
DWIGHT: Delete Carl N--the 'N' stands for 'Never Called.'

Then all eyes turned to me.

ME: What?
SCOOTER: Which of the hundred boys is leaving the phone, Kevo?
ME: Just pick one. It's not that big a deal.
SCOOTER: Oh, come on. That's no fun.
TERRY: What hundred boys?
BRIAN: Kevin's a gigolo pimp.
ME: Brian!
TERRY: What's the going rate these days? I'm getting tired of being a starving musician.
BRIAN: Apple doesn't fall far, does it, Scooter?
ME: Wait, um, are we allowed to make one last call before these deletions?

Scooter mulled this over in his head.

SCOOTER: Sure, why not? Just look at the phone numbers first to make sure nobody tries to do a switch.

We handed all our phones back.

SCOOTER: You have five minutes, and then your phones are going to have a little more memory in them, boys.

I went outside with Terry.

ME: I'm sorry. I can't imagine that this was your ideal date with me.
TERRY: From reading the blog, I wouldn't expect any less.
ME: So you're going to try and call Ren?
TERRY: Yeah. Knowing him he'll send me to voicemail and I can tell him--sober, for once--that he missed a great opportunity.
ME: I don't even know what to say to my guy.
TERRY: Who is he?
ME: He's someone I used to know. It's been a long time since I've seen him. I don't even know if this number still works.
TERRY: Did things end badly between you two?
ME: No. They never really ended at all. That's why it was so hard.
TERRY: Gotcha. Well, I'll leave to your privacy.
ME: Thanks.

Terry went back into the house and I called the number I've called in a few times this past year, but this time it was going to be the last. Like Terry, and as usual, I got a voicemail.

ME: Hey, it's me. I just wanted to say that this is going to be my last time calling you. I don't have any other way to get in touch with you, so unless you out-of-the-blue make some sort of random phone call to me, I'm guessing this is it. I just wanted to say that...um...I really miss you. I think about you all the time. I hope you're doing well and that...that you're happy. Bye.

I went back into the house and handed my phone to Dwight showing him the number.

ME: It'll be that one, Dwight.
DWIGHT: You sure?
ME: Yeah, I'm sure.

I sat in my seat and took back Scooter's phone.

SCOOTER: Rich said he wanted to get together tonight.
BRIAN: What did you say?
SCOOTER: I said call me because in five minutes I won't have your number anymore.
ME: Will he call?
SCOOTER: You never know with him.
BRIAN: I didn't even bother calling Connor. He wouldn't care.
TURNER: I told Gary not to call for awhile.

We all looked at him.

TURNER: It's for the best.
NICK: I told Chris he's a fucking idiot with a small d**k. Then I said peace.

Terry seemed to be smiling.

TERRY: Ren was cool actually. He said he respected what I was doing. Said he misses me, but that it was tie to severe ties--for now, anyway.
DWIGHT: I had to remind Carl who I was.
NICK: What about Mr. Broccoli? What did you say?

I shrugged.

ME: Nothing really. Just whatever popped into my head.

Scooter seemed to understand that I didn't want this moment to go on any longer, so he held up Turner's phone and said--

SCOOTER: Delete on the count of three!

It then took two minutes to figure out how to delete phone numbers in all of our various phones. But finally we were ready.

SCOOTER: One...two...three!

For some reason, I screamed. I screamed upon hitting 'Delete' in Scooter's phone and seeing that little number disappear. Surprisingly enough, Turner screamed, too. Then Brian. Pretty soon we were all screaming at the phones, and then finally, we were silent.

ME: I need some air.

While I was outside, I had a striking realization. Scooter was right. It was time to move on. I've been in the same place with the same group of people in the same situations for my entire life. It was time to change that.

I went inside and heard Terry plunking away some keys that sounded familiar.

ME: Sunday in the Park with George?
TERRY: I learned to play this after I saw a college production of the show in Boston.
ME: Listen to Billy Porter do it. It'll change your life.
TERRY: Can you sing?
ME: Very poorly.
TERRY: I'll help you out then. Just try.

So I did.

Sunday, by the blue purple yellow red water
On the green purple yellow red grass
Let us pass through our perfect park
Pausing on a Sunday

Later that night, I told all the others I was leaving. I didn't know where I was going to go or how I was going to get there, or what I was going to do once I got there, but that as soon as the summer was over, it was going to be time for a move.

By the cool blue triangular water
On the soft green elliptical grass
As we pass through arrangements of shadow
Toward the verticals of trees
Forever

Dwight took it well since he won't be here anyway. I apologized for giving him a hard time about leaving. Now I understand why he had to do it. Sometimes it becomes too hard to stay in a place that reminds you of so many people who aren't there anymore.

By the blue purple yellow red water
On the green orange violet mass of the grass
In our perfect park

Scooter didn't seem to believe me. Brian just laughed, but it was an 'Oh well' laugh, like this was to be expected. Turner knew I meant it, and he kept staring at me, as if to see what happened to the boy who was always so proud to stick his feet in Rhode Island and never move. Nick just said 'Do what you have to do, Brock.'

Made of flecks of light
And dark
And parasols
Bum bum bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum

FRIEND: So how is this going to work?
ME: I'm going to start traveling. Find a place that clicks with me, find a library, find a place to stay, and the rest...Well, I don't know. I don't know anything actually.
FRIEND: You should try the Netherlands. You could become a red light fixture and write a blog about your first hundred tricks.
ME: Going away now isn't like really going away. Nobody's more than a phone call or an e-mail away.
FRIEND: You say that, but you neglect the power of presence. The fact that you can be there if someone needs you. That you can hold them when they cry, or hug them when you see them. Nothing can replace that.
ME: So you think I should stay?
FRIEND: No, I just wanted to remind you that you actually being here does make a difference. Now you have to make a difference somewhere else.

People strolling through the trees
Of a small suburban park
On an island in the river
On and ordinary Sunday
Sunday
Sunday

An Interview with Me

2007-07-12T13:38:00.000-07:00

My friend Matt decided to do an interview with me for his blog, so because I really am that conceited, I'm posting a link to it here in this blog.

Read away, and thanks Matt :O)

http://celebritiesdefined.blogspot.com/

Date #98: Boston Harbor

2007-07-09T14:24:00.001-07:00

For years I've been trying to write a play called Boston Harbor. Most people who write--any kind of writing--have a project like Boston Harbor in the back of their minds. It never seems to get written even though the author knows exactly what it's about and may even have some ideas about characterization and story elements.

And yet, the play just never seems to get written.

For a long time now, Boston Harbor has almost been a private joke with myself (the coolest kind of jokes, of course). I've tried everything I can think of, but as soon as I type Boston Harbor on the title page, I usually never get much further than that.

The ironic thing is that I know exactly what the play is about--because I lived it.

(I know, that might be the corniest line of all time, but it's true.)

So when it was time to step out of Rhode Island and try my luck in a new location; I decided revisiting old stomping grounds might be the best idea.

Allow me to explain.

When I was in high school, I spent two very eye-opening summers living with my gay uncle in Boston. How those years formed who I am today--Well, let's just say I might be making comments about girls asses and watching golf on television if it weren't for those two summers.

Oh, and before you all comment on what a cliched name I picked for a gay guy, my uncle's name really is--

ME: Uncle Will?

He hates when I call him "Uncle Will." He's my Dad's stepbrother and he's only six years older than me. After graduating high school, he decided to forgo college and move to the big city, much to my grandparents' chagrin.

It was then that he and I concocted a plan to have me stay with him for the summer so he would have someone to hang out with in the city until he got accustomed to living there. I told my mother I was going to a theater camp, when really I was just hanging out with my uncle and learning the ups and downs of homo-dom.

When my uncle opens the door, he looks even better than when I last saw him. I'm not sure how creepy this is to say about your six-year-age-difference-semi-non-blood-related uncle, but...well...he's a hottie.

Imagine Will Kemp or just click on this: http://www.blogdecine.com/images/will%20Kemp.jpg

That's what opened the door to the apartment I had made my way to with a duffel bag full of enough clothes for a two-day stay.

UNCLE WILL: Can I help you?
ME: Yes, I'm looking for a guy named Will. Apparently I'm his son.
UNCLE WILL: Wow, good to know the sperm takes. Unfortunately I'm dying.
ME: Of what?
UNCLE WILL: Lokianis disease.
ME: Which is?
UNCLE WILL: It's what happens when you're repeatedly called 'Uncle' at the young age of 25.
ME: You're 28.
UNCLE WILL: I know. The doctors are completely stupefied.

It took us this much banter before I was able to give him a hug and enter the apartment.

VOICE: Is that the little horndog?

The voice belonged to Jeff, my uncle's boyfriend. They'd been seriously dating since my last summer in Boston, although they'd done the typical up-and-down, open relationship, drama drama, menage a you-don't-wanna-know thing that most gay couples do, so I wouldn't exactly say I look up to them, but I do adore Jeff.

He's spunky--and really, who can you call spunky anymore?

Upon exiting the kitchen, he grabbed me at the waist and spun me around, even though I'm a good six inches taller than he is.

ME: I feel like I'm being molested by a munchkin.

He dropped me, causing me to stumble.

JEFF: Still got that quick wit, huh?
UNCLE WILL: Family jewel.
JEFF: Oh, that's the jewel, is it? I was wondering what it was.
UNCLE WILL: In Jeff's family it's their sterling sense of racism.
ME: Question, you two, when's your sixtieth anniversary? Because I want to make sure I can book Lawrence Welk.

This got me a punch on both arms from the munchkin and my uncle.

ME: So I'm here--who is it you're setting me up with?

The reason I decided to go to Boston in the first place was an e-mail I got a little while back from Will and Jeff telling me they had found me the perfect guy.

He's cute, he's funny, he's got a great job, and something about him just seems like it would click with you.

Admittedly, I'd kind of discarded the e-mail until recently when I decided looking passing up a potential soulmate might not be the wisest decision.

The best part? He works in a library! Just like you!

Wow, should I start picking out china patterns now?

JEFF: I just mean you can talk about books.
ME: Because solid conversations about literature are the foundation of any good relationship.
JEFF: Maybe not me and your uncles since I like Tolstoy and he's illiterate--
WILL: Hey!
JEFF: --But it can be a starting point.

And so, with more trepidation than I've felt in awhile--probably because I didn't have homefield advantage--I embarked on my date.

I met Ian at a little Italian restaurant that Jeff thought would be fantastic as a meeting place. I don't know what I was expecting, but when Ian walked through the door I was a little taken aback at how stunning he was.

That's right, stunning--in that academic sort of way which I just love. (Imagine Wesley from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.)

To make him even more Wesley-ish, he was from Britain. Jeff chose to let me in on this at the last minute when I was getting cold feet.

JEFF: Kevin, he's British.
ME: Jeff!
JEFF: What?
ME: I can't go out on a date with a British guy!
JEFF: Why not?
ME: I'll be putty in his hands!
JEFF: Oh, come on.
ME: I'm serious! Everything sounds hotter when it's said with a British accent.
JEFF: That's not true.

(I affected a British accent.)

ME: It appears the dog urinated on grandma.
JEFF: Wow, that does sound hot.
ME: See!

By that time, I couldn't back out. Although as soon as Ian and I were seated, I was wishing I could focus on something other than how hot every word he said sounded.

IAN: So I understand you're quite into books?
ME: Well, not quite. I mean, I am, but--I'm sorry, what was the question?

I needed to get my head on straight.

ME: I do enjoy books, yes.
IAN: Are you reading anything currently?
ME: I don't suppose you know Armistead Maupin?
IAN: You mean Tales of the City?
ME: Yes!
IAN: Isn't it required reading for homosexuals nowadays?
ME: Maybe back in the 70's it was, but he just put a new book out.
IAN: Michael Tolliver Lives. I'm actually reading it now.
ME: No way! I just finished it.
IAN: Fabulous, isn't it?

Uh oh.

ME: Well, um...I do love the series, but--
IAN: You don't like the book?
ME: I was just...really disappointed.
IAN: Why?
ME: Well, you have to understand, Michael Tolliver was my first gay crush. I saw the PBS mini-series back when I was still in high school and when he did that underwear contest--
IAN: You don't have to go any further. I still try to TIVO that on lonely nights.

Okay, so far, so good. It's just a discussion. It's not an argument.

ME: I know he was a representation of Armistead Maupin, but now that Armistead Maupin's getting on in life, Michael's gone from being a sweet, innocent, adorable Southern boy to a cynical old queen in an open relationship who wears cock rings and dates a guy young enough to be his son.
IAN: Don't knock it. That may be you some day.
ME: Absolutely not. That will not be me.
IAN: I'm sure neither Armistead nor Michael thought it would be them either. I think it's great that he's honest enough to write the way he does. It can't be easy admitting that he has to take Viagra or the side effects of H.I.V. medication.

God, he was making a good argument. It was pissing me off.

ME: I do admire his honesty, but I think his banishment of monogamy is a little bit depressing coming from a gay icon.
IAN: He didn't ask to be a gay icon.
ME: Nobody does--

Okay, maybe Diana Ross.

ME: --But the point is, it only makes the gay community look bad to have one of its more prominent figures dismissing monogamy and then wondering why we're not allowed to get married.
IAN: I don't see your point.
ME: Marriage kind of hinders on monogamy, doesn't it?
IAN: Apparently you've never met my family.

That was cute, but I'm in the middle of a point.

ME: The point is--
IAN: It's not him talking, though. It's the character.
ME: But the character is clearly him.
IAN: So you don't find anything redeeming about the book?
ME: No! I loved the book!
IAN: I would hate to hear about one you disliked.
ME: I guess I just...I had--
IAN: You had a crush on someone who existed as a fictional character in his 20's in the 70's--moreso as a fictional character in his 20's in the 70's as portrayed by an actor in a 90's miniseries--and now he's an autobiographical character in his 50's and you suddenly don't identify with him as an object of lust anymore, is that so surprising?
ME: Well...no...but--
IAN: And because you're worried that he is what being a gay man in his 50's means, when really--it's just what being a gay man who grew up in the 70's and 80's is. Our generation might be completely different from that when we're in our 50's.

Wow, he somehow made me feel vindicated and won the argument at the same time.

I might be in love.

IAN: I guess my question is, why do you still love the book then?
ME: I liked the term he coined 'A confederacy of survivors.' The fact that that's how he views himself and his friends.
IAN: I liked the line 'I don't need a lover--only five good friends.'
ME: Perfect. Perfect line.

Brian, Turner, Dwight, Nick, and Scooter.

IAN: Is that all you liked about the book?
ME: No. I also liked that he seemed to be able to tell the story of his life--to show how he got from point A to point Z--even though I wasn't too thrilled with point Z. I liked that he cleared up all the loose ends without putting a bow on the end of anything, and that he just sort of...honored his life and the lives of his friends.
IAN: You sound a tad envious.

It was then that I told him about the never-finished (hell, never even really started) Boston Harbor.

IAN: Did you ever think maybe the reason you can't start the story is because it isn't finished yet? You're not even 23 yet, right?
ME: Not for another twelve days.
IAN: You see, you've got to give it more time.
ME: I just...I've been working on this other project--about dating. And I'm worried it won't have that nice definitive ending--or any kind of an ending at all, even. I set out expecting one thing and--
IAN: That was your first mistake. Expectation. You should just let the chips fall where they may.
ME: Easy for you to say. You didn't go on a date with someone who bit your nipples.
IAN: Pardon?
ME: Wow, this is good pasta.

After the dinner, we walked around Boston and seemed to be getting along really nicely--or quite nicely, some might say...

Then Ian dropped the bomb.

IAN: Kevin, I have to admit--I'm a bit like Michael.
ME: You wear a cock ring?
IAN: Aside from that--I don't really believe in monogamy.
ME: Oh...
IAN: I'm sorry. I thought I should mention it since you seem to be so adamant about it.
ME: I'm just adamant about eventual monogamy. Not giving it up on it.
IAN: Oh, but I never believed in it in the first place.
ME: Then why do you date?
IAN: Because I love dating. I love meeting new people. I love sex with those new people.
ME: Gotcha.
IAN: Not that I'm slutty.
ME: Oh, I'm really not one to judge.
IAN: I just thought I'd tell you, since you seem really sweet.
ME: Thank you. You seem like a nice guy yourself--aside from the fact that you're going to die alone.

He laughed--thank God--and hugged me...and then we had sex.

Just kidding.

(But seriously, that accent kills me.)

I went back to Jeff and Will's and relayed the story of my date to them. Will chastised me for spending a good portion of the evening condemning a fictional gay man in his 50's, but then he smiled and said "Only my nephew" which was his way of saying "I love you." Jeff apologized for not fixing me up with someone more long-term oriented, but I told him not to sweat it, and we all ate a late-nite meal of toast and scrambled eggs.

FRIEND: So your road trip episode was a total failure.
ME: I wouldn't say that.
FRIEND: I would! You didn't even f**k the Brit!
ME: It's July. I'm too patriotic to have sex with the former enemy.
FRIEND: He looked like Wesley?
ME: Spitting image.
FRIEND: Call me Benedict Arnold.

Well, that was fun, but this thing needs to end where it began--at home.

Providence, I'm coming home.

FRIEND: Oh yeah, the hour drive is really epic.
ME: F**k off, Benedict.

Date #97: My Top Five Dates

2007-07-06T13:14:00.000-07:00

Before the blog, my number five best date of all time would have been my date on the beach with Jason almost two years ago. At that point, I had pretty much given up on meeting anyone. My year-and-a-half long, on-again/off-again relationship with my boyfriend at the time had ended bitterly--so bitterly in fact that to this day we don't talk very much, which is very unusual for me. I was a cynical mess due to a few run-ins with gays with baggage and emotional issues for days and the fact that none of them wanted me playing in their clubhouse, so to speak. Basically, I was unwanted even by people I was looking down upon, which is not a nice place to be in, let me tell you. Then came Jason. He was a sophomore in college and I was going into my senior year. He was attending U.R.I., which meant an excuse to go down near Narragansett a couple times in August (not a bad place to end the summer) and on our third date--the date where we officially became "something"--we bit the cliched bullet and just went to the beach. Sitting there with my head in his lap looking out onto the waves, I remember saying that I didn't think this was going to happen. When he asked me what "this" was, I told him that "this" was a lot of things: Serenity, romance, comfort, security, and a connection with someone else on a beach at the end of what had become a semi-regretful summer seemingly making the whole thing worthwhile. "This" was a person to call and talk to about my day. "This" was a new start as my college career was ending, sending me into the black hole known as...the future. "This" was a boy who wanted me in his clubhouse, who banished my cynicism while he was stroking my hair and watching the waves with me. "This" was perfection. A few weeks later, Jason broke up with me. Looking back, it's clear that Jason was one of those people who has brief, intense relationships with guys and then grows tired of them, or rather, their intensity. He seemed to be a very troubled guy, and even now when I think back on that night on the beach, I don't regret it like I regret the rest of that summer, only because I know that in that moment, he really didn't want to be anywhere else--and neither did I. We both moved on after that, but in that moment, we were simply with each other, and it felt wonderful.

And now, on another beach...

ME: Are you out of your mind?!?
BRIAN: What are you talking about?

I jumped up and started walking down the beach trying to pretend that one of my best friends didn't just kiss me and make my life that much more complicated.

Brian was trailing behind me trying to have a conversation like the kind you see in Hugh Grant/Random Adorable Actress movies. The pan-shot argument, I call it.

BRIAN: I will not have the pan-shot argument with you, Kevin. I am not Hugh Grant, and you are not Kate Beckinsdale.

I pivoted right into his face.

BRIAN: Ouch!
ME: See? This is why you should not have kissed me!
BRIAN: Because you're spontaneously abusive?
ME: No! Because you know about the pan-shot phrase and how to use it correctly! You know too much! You're my friend!
BRIAN: Sometimes friends become more.
ME: And then they become less! You know that.
BRIAN: Can I at least explain myself?
ME: I know what explanation you're going to give! You've never been attracted to me in the slightest and all of a sudden you're kissing me, which means you're nervous because--
BRIAN: --Because my best friend has gone on almost 100 dates and still can't find a decent guy, and I'm a much bigger asshole than he is, so what hope is there for me?

All right, admittedly, that wasn't where I thought he was going with that.

BRIAN: We just...You and I...I mean, we're not meant for each other, that's pretty clear, but we are really good together. We know each other inside and out. We make each other laugh. We have conversations. I mean, I don't have conversations with anyone.
ME: So what? The next obvious step is invisible marriage?
BRIAN: I'm just saying, why--when you and I have the healthiest relationship of anyone we know--why not give it a shot?

I was going to reference the episode of Clarissa Explains It All when Clarissa tried dating Sam and how awkward that was, but if Brian didn't watch the show, then the whole thing would take too long to explain.

Wait a minute, everybody watched that show!

ME: We'd be like Clarissa and Sam!
BRIAN: Shut up. We would not be like that.
ME: Like when Zach had to kiss Jessie in the school play.
BRIAN: We are not sitcom characters! We are real people!
ME: If you want to be a real person, then act like one! A real person wouldn't decide to call it quits on finding love at the age of 22, Brian! I know I'm not going to. The fact that I haven't found someone yet isn't scaring me, so there's no reason it should scare you. We're young. We're energetic. We're still capable of having sex without help! And as long as that's the case, there's still hope. And who knows? There might even be hope after that.

Wow, usually the rants come way later in the entry.

My top four date is a little...unconventional. A little disclaimer for you. This guy was only my second actual date. Don't get me wrong. I had a week-long boyfriend in high school, but we never actually went out anywhere, and my first year at college offered no opportunities for dating, believe it or not, so I only ended up going out on a date with one guy who proceeded to never call me again--and he was someone my friends set me up with--apparently this guy didn't know you're not supposed to randomly stop talking to someone when you have mutual friends--go figure.

So the summer after my first year in college, I was determined to meet someone. I wasn't going to stop at anything--even if it meant doing what I never did back then...go to a club. I ended up meeting this guy Rick, and he took me on my second-ever date, and it went really well...but that's not the top four date. The top four date would be me and Rick's fifth date. The fourth date had ended in us making out for a solid hour in the front seat of his car in front of a Barnes and Noble. His car, I should mention, didn't have air conditioning, so that by the time we stopped being all over each other, we were covered in our own sweat--how sweet, right? This was the case because both of us were living at home with our families for the summer, and we didn't have anywhere private to go, so we refrained from any physical contact until we exploded that afternoon while mothers with children browsed the summer reading section at the B&N.

On the fifth date, Rick picked me up, took me out to a movie and dinner, and then told me he had a surprise for me. Don't assume that because Rick was living with his parents he was one of those post-college losers (see: yours truly) who can't get a job. He was in the process of buying a house after getting a degree in engineering. Point being: He was rolling in dough from a lucrative job he'd held for a few months, and he decided to splurge a little.

That "splurge" ended up being a huge hotel room in the Westin where we spent the next twelve hours.

Now, I know you're thinking, Wow, how trashy that your top four date makes the cut because of a half-day f**kfest--but that's where you're wrong. Remember, I'd never dated anyone before seriously, which meant I'd never been intimate like this with anyone before either. This was the first time someone actually got to see me naked for a prolonged period of time. This was pillow talk and room service and talking for an hour only to wind up kissing and then...Well, you get the picture.

The point is...it was the moment I stopped being that gay kid from high school who still giggled after he kissed a boy and who was still really uncomfortable just being who he was. After that dinner, that movie, and those eleven hours, I was all grown up.

SCOOTER: You are such a skank.

Meanwhile, I'm defending myself in a place where I should have home field advantage.

NICK: This little restaurant is pretty swank, Kev.
ME: It's a cafe.

Nordstrom's Cafe to be exact. I had taken Nick, Turner, and Scooter there to get their opinion on what I should do about Brian and my dwindling number of dates left.

SCOOTER: Skanky McSkank Pants.
ME: I didn't kiss Brian. He kissed me.
NICK: Well who hasn't kissed you at this point?
ME: Oh yeah, because I'm so desirable. I exude lust.
SCOOTER: I wouldn't go that far. I mean, I'd get freaky with you again but--
TURNER: Get freaky?
ME: Let's just forget about Brian for now. Let's just forget boys all together.

Things were not going well with my other two up-to-now-looking-good potentials.

TURNER: Did you try talking to Jesse?
ME: About him sleeping with the Devil, yes, I called.
TURNER: I hope you were a little less judgmental than that.
ME: I'm sorry, but we're talking about my mortal enemy here!
NICK: Kevin, you're not Hee-Man. You shouldn't have a mortal enemy.
SCOOTER: Besides, you slept me. I don't think you can play the moral compass card, anymore.
ME: Lovely of you to point that out.

The truth is, I had called and apologized to Jesse, and he accepted, but I still didn't feel right about the whole thing. I could get past the fact that he had slept with Allan. After all, as Scooter pointed out, I'd done worse--pardon the pun. The thing was now it felt like our pasts were all tangled up in each other. Somehow everything just seemed tainted now.

NICK: What about Charlie? Have you made up with him yet?
ME: He was the one being a jerk.
NICK: He only pointed out that you do tend to make things about you.
ME: He said he couldn't wait to get away from everything! That includes me! Or at least it sounded like it.
TURNER: Kevin, you have to remember, you're not in a relationship with him. You can only have so much of a say in terms of how much what he says affects you.
SCOOTER: Unless you care about him so much that in can't help but affect you in which case you might want to also admit that you lo--
ME: Finish that sentence and I'll post the size of Scooter Jr. on myspace.
SCOOTER: Go right ahead.
ME: And I'll lie.
SCOOTER: I'm shushing.

Charlie had actually apologized for what he said, but he also confirmed what Turner said--and admitted that right now he just wanted to look out for himself and not have to worry about anybody else, which meant there could be give and take, but there didn't have to be.

So where does that leave me?

ME: It leaves me with three dates to go and no potential boyfriends.
SCOOTER: Wow, you went from two to none. That sucks.
ME: I'm amazed you don't counsel people for a living.
TURNER: It's just like anything else, Kevin. There are highs and lows in life.
NICK: You're just hitting your low at a really bad time.
ME: Well, I do have a date tonight. Maybe that'll turn out to be something.
NICK: Even if it isn't, try really hard to make it something because you're running out of dates.

They then took turns pitching spin-off ideas to me. How does this sound:

Turner and Nick go to New York and open a bakery where crazy hijinks take place as they bake and date in the big city!

Yeah, I might pass on that and let it land on the CW.

My top three date was a set-up by a girl I barely knew at the time. It was one of those "You're gay and my friend's gay so you two would love each other!" type of things, but at the time I was in such a drought I didn't even care.

I met Matt at the Outback--make jokes if you will, but he suggested it. When I got there I found an incredibly hot guy in the waiting area and I thought, Oh, that couldn't possibly be him. No way am I that lucky. So I just stood there until clearly nobody else was coming, so either I had just been stood up or this adorable guy who happened to be just my type was my date.

He saw me, but he also seemed to shy to say anything. So we both just stood there looking around for two other people when we knew we were just looking for each other (ironically, this became the underlying metaphor for our up-and-down relationship/friendship/whatever you want to call it).

Finally I broke down and--didn't say hello--but did something to put him on the spot. I faked a vibrating call on my cell phone and answered with "Hi, this is Kevin. Um, no, I don't know who might have placed that order. I don't want any magazines. Thanks." When I got off the phone he just laughed at me--the most beautiful laugh I had ever heard, and introduced himself.

This was going to be a late-afternoon type date, but it ended up being a till 2am in the morning "riding around the state just so that we wouldn't have to say good-bye to each other" date. I never felt so calm with anyone, which is weird because Matt was off the wall. He was energetic, fast-moving, well-humored (giggly is probably a better term for it), and honestly, really broken in a lot of ways. I saw him and thought, Great! I can be the guy who helps. Who fixes things. I can be his knight in shining armor.

And whenever you think that, you're already in trouble. Matt ended up coming in and out of my life sporadically until the day he just disappeared. He moved once, twice, and then again with no forwarding address and no way to get a hold of him. By that point we were only talking once in awhile anyway, but I was still really dented by the whole thing. (Notice how I say "dented" and not "hurt." When you're hurt, there's an entitlement there. Somebody has done something that affected you in a hurtful way. The truth is, I had no entitlement to Matt in any way, so instead I just felt dented. I felt like someone rammed into the side of me and then drove off and I was left sitting there going, What the hell just happened?)

I still think about Matt all the time. I keep his number in my phone even though it's no longer his number. I hate the thought of not being able to talk to someone if I want to. I mean, come on, we live in a world where thanks to facebook, myspace, aim, etc. You never really have to worry about completely losing touch with someone, but with Matt that's a reality. He's never popped up on any of those handy sites and nobody seems to ever have known or cared about him except for me.

But I still remember that guy in the waiting room who had been beaten about by life and guys and family. I remember seeing him smile at me as if none of that mattered, as if I was a new chance at something. As if maybe I could be the one who unlocked that door in him that would let it be okay to get a little close, fall a little bit...And I remember that every time I go out on a date. That every guy is that chance, and that's why we all do it, why we still chase after that chance--no matter how many times we get dented.

ME: So you're...into movies?
CHRISTIAN: Not really.
ME: Books?
CHRISTIAN: Nah.
ME: PBS?
CHRISTIAN: Huh?
ME: Never mind.

My date with Christian was not how a date should go when it's Date 97. I should be good at this by now, I thought. I should be able to converse with people without lulls, without stops and starts, without us staring at each other as if we're in a staring contest!

ME: I hope you're not having as bad a time as you seem to be having.
CHRISTIAN: No, I'm probably having a worse time actually.
ME: Oh, well...okay.

So much for that wittiness I lean on in times of need.

ME: I don't want you to stay if you're having a bad time. Why don't we just get the check and call it a night?
CHRISTIAN: No!

That was enthusiastic.

CHRISTIAN: I mean--I'm sorry. I'm still getting used to this.
ME: Used to what?
CHRISTIAN: Dating--I mean, dating again. I just got out of a three-year relationship.

This is when my internal alarm would normally go off.

DANGER KEVIN BROCCOLI! DANGER!

But instead--

ME: Why don't you tell me about him?
CHRISTIAN: Aren't you never supposed to talk about past relationships on a date?
ME: Oh, I don't believe in that. What are you supposed to do? Tell me about yourself but leave out the three years you were with--um--
CHRISTIAN: Kyle.
ME: --Leave out the Kyle period? I don't think so. Besides, clearly, you're still dealing with the break-up and that's what would be easy for you to talk about, so talk about it.
CHRISTIAN: And you won't mind?
ME: Are you kidding? I love hearing about break-ups. Break-ups and flash floods are my two favorite topics.

So he talked about the demise of Christian and Kyle, and I listened--only interjecting here and there to ask a question, thereby letting him know I was interested in hearing what he had to say. It seems the two of them were in a three-year relationship that should have been a one and a half-year relationship, and that when things ended it wasn't one of those fiery meltdowns, but more like a small pop and then everything that was there for all those years just...disappeared.

CHRISTIAN: ...And now I'm just taking some time to rebuild my life. This is only the second date I've been on since...since it ended. The first one was a disaster.
ME: Hopefully this one won't qualify as that.
CHRISTIAN: No, this is already way better.

We laughed at that, and then decided to go walk along the east side.

It was such a beautiful night out. We walked and talked (about more than exes after a point). It was nice to see Christian relax after awhile. It became clear after hanging out with him that the reason he was so stand-offish before was simply anxiety. He hadn't had to date for three years and now he had to learn all over again, and let's face it, he's buying in a seller's market.

By the time we had circled back to our cars, he seemed to be a completely different person from the one I started the night with--it's always nice when that happens.

CHRISTIAN: Thank you for being so sweet.
ME: No problem. It makes up for all the times I'm a jerk in my daily life.
CHRISTIAN: I'm sure those times are few and far between.

He should see me at work in the morning. Grendel would run in fear.

CHRISTIAN: I guess this is where I confess that--
ME: --Although I'm a good guy, you're not ready to jump back into something serious so soon.
CHRISTIAN: You're not mad?
ME: Mad? That I'm not the rebound guy? Nah, I'm not mad.
CHRISTIAN: Thank you. I just...

He looked down and for a second, I thought he might crumble. It's one thing to accept that you're broken up with someone, but it's another to realize that even though they're gone, they still impact your life.

CHRISTIAN: He was the best, you know?
ME: I know.
CHRISTIAN: Our first five dates were the best five dates of my life. I mean, how often can you say that about someone?
ME: Not very often.
CHRISTIAN: I know I'm still really young, but...I mean, how often do you get that lucky in life, right?
ME: I don't believe in luck. I believe in karma, fate, and laughing. If you can accept those three things, you'll be fine.
CHRISTIAN: Thanks, Oprah.
ME: Anytime.

I gave him a big hug and we said our good-byes. If nothing else, Christian had a nice night out where for a couple of hours he didn't have to do anything but talk about what he wanted to talk about and be somewhere other than home. I probably wouldn't be taking any of Kyle's slots in the Top Five, but all in all, it wasn't bad for my 97th try.

My number two date is an easy one. I was absolutely smitten for this guy the first time I ever saw him. I was at a party and when he walked by me I swore I could hear an angel choir in my head. Just as quickly I dismissed him as someone way out of my league. A little later we ended up talking by the pool, and of course, I was my usual over-the-top, bundle of nerves--and funnily enough, he seemed mildly charmed by this.

The next time I saw him he ended up going off with some other guy, and I thought, Well, that's about right. I don't wind up with guys like that. He's handsome, he's funny, he's charming--and he's not psychologically damaged. What chance did I have with a guy like that?

But then things with the other guy didn't work out, and in October, Prince Charming paid me a visit at school in Providence.

As soon as he saw me he gave me the biggest hug, and the thought flew through my mind that I could never get sick of this guy. It felt like he could tell me the same joke thousands of times for years on end and I would laugh every time. He smiled and I tried to fathom if it would be possible to be upset or have a bad day after seeing that smile. I thought about saying some of this to him, but even though he made me completely comfortable when we were together, I would still periodically stare at him and forget my own name.

We went to see The Lion King and then went out to eat at Johnny Rockets. The entire time it was like being at the best party you've ever been at in your life, except it's just you and someone else.

By the time he left to go home, I knew that nothing more was ever going to come of the date--if it even was a date (I know, probably should have thought of that before I put it in the top five) but for night things that never seemed tangible to me became completely real, and for once I thought, Maybe I actually do deserve to have nights like this with boys like that. Maybe that was possible.

BRIAN: It's not easy for me to say this.
ME: You're going to admit that Boy Meets World was the best television show ever made?
BRIAN: That--and I was wrong.

Brian and I were at his place watching Hey Paula. After watching that woman self-destruct for an hour, none of our problems seemed all that bad.

BRIAN: I'm just tired of either being single or being with a loser.
ME: Connor wasn't really a loser.
BRIAN: Are you just saying that because you dated him first?
ME: Yes, that's pretty much the only reason I'm saying it.
BRIAN: So no more kissing?
ME: Hey, you kissed me.
BRIAN: You did the lingering stare.
ME: You did the lean-in AND the follow-through.
BRIAN: The lingering stare is like you're begging for it.
ME: I wasn't lingering! I was wondering why you were leaning in!
BRIAN: I did not lean in before the stare! I would never lean in until I got clearance you lean in.
ME: You don't get clearance to lean in! Leaning in is you putting yourself out on a limb. The follow-through you need clearance for.
BRIAN: And you gave me clearance.
ME: I never gave you clearance!
BRIAN: You didn't do the lean back!
ME: I didn't know what you were doing!
BRIAN: You didn't recognize the lean in?
ME: I did, but then I went into shock!

Ah, it's so good to have things back to normal.

The best date of my life beats out number two simply because it offered that chance of something more--something beyond the date itself.

If you want to know how sweet he is, let's start with the fact that he didn't go on a trip because he decided he'd rather meet up with me instead. Right there I might have been won over if I wasn't in such a low place emotionally. It was my last semester of college and I had no idea what was going to happen after it was all over. All I knew was that life was about to change dramatically and I wasn't ready for it. As a result, I had become frantic, moody, and catty all at the same time.

Then I saw him from across the street. It was as simple as that.

We had a nice dinner with a conversation that grew from being "getting to know you" to "I want to know everything about you." When we left the restaurant, we started walking around the Brown campus. We were still on the edge of something, but I didn't know what, or I did know, but I didn't know if I was right about it or not. Then he leaned into my side a little--in an affectionate, trusting way (I know, but you actually can tell that much from a little lean)--and I just knew.

From that moment on, it was so easy.

We sat at the steps of the chapel and kissed and talked and laughed and talked about what the hell we were supposed to do since we were instantly crazy about each other and yet both practical enough to realize that it wasn't practical to be instantly crazy about anybody especially since we were both going to be graduating in a few months and going through God-knows-what kind of life changes.

But then another part of us didn't care. I wanted to be with him and he wanted to be with me, and it was cold out, and he had on this adorable scarf, and I felt like someone sent him to me. I don't always know if I believe in divine intervention, especially when it comes to gay guys, but I didn't believe I just "met" him. I believe somehow someone somewhere in the universe knew I needed him and sent him to me.

We were together until he graduated. An attempt was made at the long-distance thing, but that never works out. I was so sad when he left. It felt like being more than left. It felt like left behind. Like he was going to be moving on to bigger and better things, and I was going to be staying in my own tiny state for however long waiting for another spark of divine intervention.

I was so depressed about it that I wondered if I'd ever be able to date again. So I did something about it.

I started a blog.

Because sometimes you have to make your own spark...

FRIEND: Somehow I knew you were going to tie this all in to being a flamer.
ME: What would be your top five dates?
FRIEND: That would be rough.
ME: Top five hookups?
FRIEND: Honey, my hookups are like the 60's: If I remember them, I probably wasn't there.
ME: Anybody stick out in your mind at all as having impacted your life?
FRIEND: My first bartender.
ME: Moreso than your first time.
FRIEND: My first bartender was--
ME: Ohhh--Well, that explains a lot.

Three dates left.

That means it's time to make that spark again.

Except this time it might be time to start thinking outside the box...

...And by box I mean, the tiny little state...

Date #96: Drama

2007-07-03T16:02:00.000-07:00

With five dates to go, I realize that I haven't even dated the one type of guy I've always wanted to try dating:

The Theater Guy.

BRIAN: That's a huge mistake.
ME: Why?

Brian and I were seated in the deserted N.C. Come July, everyone in Providence skips town and--although it becomes way easier to get a parking spot--it makes you feel like you're visiting a ghost town.

BRIAN: We need to get out of this city. Let's go up to the beach house this weekend.
ME: Okay. Want me to tell the boys?
BRIAN: How about we make it just you and me? I can't handle the boys right now. It's too hot out for drama.
ME: The boys aren't drama.
BRIAN: Please, Kevin. You know I adore them, but Scooter's always trying to hook up or talking about his hookups--
ME: You dated him.
BRIAN: Don't remind me. Turner's all into Paye now, Nick is constantly getting back together with Christopher, and Dwight's in love with you. Can't I just have one-on-one time with you for a day and a half?

I was actually really touched. Aside from these lunches, Brian and I never really hang out with just each other. Maybe it was a good idea.

ME: Sure. I have a date Saturday night with theater boy, but right after that I'll drive down to Narragansett.
BRIAN: So you're going to go through with this?
ME: Brian, he likes theater. How bad can it be?

On an ordinary...SUNDAY!
SUNDAY!
SUNDAY!

I probably should have seen this coming. I was riding in Jerome's car while he blasted Billy Porter at Joe's Pub and sang along at the top of his lungs. Normally I can't get enough of Billy and the Broadway Inspirational Voices belting "Sunday" from Sunday in the Park with George, but Jerome had found a way to kill that joy.

The night started off at Jerome's house. I picked him up at seven thirty, but he wasn't ready, so he had me sit in his room while he changed--right in front of me.

JEROME: Some people are sooo ashamed of their body, but I'm totally not. Look at this--

He smacked--literally, smacked--his stomach, which I will grant you, was fairly flat.

JEROME: --Do I have anything to be ashamed of?
ME: You certainly don't.

It was then that he dropped his pants.

JEROME: I was in Hair in college. Totally okay with onstage nudity.
ME: Good to know.

Had we been anywhere near a stage.

JEROME: Don't you love all my show posters?

His room was wallpapered with Broadway musical posters that dated back to what seemed to be--oh, if I had to guess--the original production of No, No Nanette!

JEROME: I met Raul outside the stage door of Chitty Chitty. He totally eye-fucked me.
ME: He what?
JEROME: And Michael Arden--please. Don't get me started. I went to see that travesty Times They Are A-Changin' just cause I heard he was a slut and I thought if he saw me--I mean, come on. He wouldn't even really need to be a slut.
ME: But it couldn't hurt.
JEROME: And he walks right by me. I was like--Fuck you, Mr. My-Show-Closed-In-Eight-Days.
ME: I think it was more than--
JEROME: Oh my God! Amazingly funny Gavin Creel story.

He went on like this for another hour. It was like The American Musical except no Julie Andrews and way gayer.

We then went to the restaurant. It was a place he recommended that ended up being more of a piano bar than anything else.

As Jerome droned on and someone started in on "Marry Me a Little" I thought about my last conversations with Charlie and Jesse.

Things were going incredibly well with both guys until they--Well, until they seemed to not be going well.

With Jesse, it was a revelation.

ME: ...I mean, back then, if you slept with Allan, you were ostracized. He may have been the leader of the pack, but the one thing he never had on any of us was that we wouldn't have touched him with a ten foot pole. He knew it and we knew it.
JESSE: God, good thing I didn't know you back then I guess.
ME: Um, why?
JESSE: Well, I've fooled around with Allan a couple of times.
ME: You...you what?
JESSE: Yeah, when we first met. I thought he was a cool guy, I mean--

WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?

ME: Are you serious right now?
JESSE: Um, do I detect a tone of judgment in your voice?
ME: I'm sorry, it's just--if you knew what that meant--I mean...
JESSE: So you're proud of everyone you've ever slept with?
ME: Are you kidding? I don't even remember most of them.

That was a joke, by the way. Before y'all start hitting the Slut button.

ME: I just--he's like a pariah.
JESSE: Now I know that but at the time I didn't. Is it really such a big deal?

The thing is...it kind of is. Okay, ready? I know I'm being really unfair about this, because you shouldn't hold someone's past against them, but I feel like Jesse just told me he slept with a serial killer, or a puppy kicker. How could anyone ever have seen anything in Allan? And how could that person then turn around and see the same thing in me?

It freaked me out.

And then came Charlie.

ME: So what are your plans for this week?
CHARLIE: I'm thinking of going to New York.
ME: Really? That's cool.
CHARLIE: Yeah, I need to get out of this town. Providence is not for me right now. I just need to get away from everything.

Now, let me explain myself before I tell you what happened next. My whole life people have bashed RI to me.

I hate this state.
I need to get out of here.
This place sucks.
I can't wait to leave.

And I always take a personal offense to it, because...well...I'm here, aren't I? And I've spent a lot of time with Charlie lately, so when he says he needs to get away from "everything" I assume he also means--

ME: You want to get away from me too?

In retrospect I can see how this would sound self-absorbed, but it just came out, and really, if you can't put your foot in your mouth with the guy you're meant to be with than who can you--

CHARLIE: God, why does everything have to be about you?

It's funny how the things that are somewhat true always hurt worse.

So that's where I stood. Jesse was mad because I got judge-y with him and Charlie was mad because I make everything about me. Part of me thought maybe I deserved to be here at this piano bar listening to my date sing--

JEROME:

You need someone
Older and wiser
Telling you what to do

It was when I realized that he was doing "You Are 16, Going on 17" by himself that I realized I needed to cut this date short.

After dropping Jerome off at his house, I made my way down to the beach house. The only problem was that now I was in a Broadway mood. I decided to go balls to the wall and put in Songs From an Unmade Bed.

In my head, I could see all the boys--every last one of them--in tuxedos. Walking down a giant staircase and singing in some giant production number with me at the top of the staircase looking like Carol Channing. Then a spotlight hits and I'm all by myself. I realize that I'm alone, and that's when the music creeps in...

I happened by your old apartment last night

When I showed up at the beach house, Brian was just about to head out for a walk.

ME: Terrific. That's just what I need.

My phone had gone off twice while I was driving down--one from Jesse, one from Charlie. The truth is, I was wondering if maybe the reason I'm on Date #96 and still haven't found anyone is because of...me.

FRIEND: Oh f**k, you're getting philosophical.
ME: All these guys couldn't have been awful.
FRIEND: Most of them were awful, though.
ME: And I'm some prize? I mean, you know me--
FRIEND: Honey, I will never call you a prize.
ME: So why even bother? Why subject someone to the horror that is me?
FRIEND: When you're done wallowing I'll tell you, whore.
ME: Okay, go.
FRIEND: It's because you, like everyone else, is worth a little bit of happiness once in awhile.
ME: That's all you got?
FRIEND: You're lucky you called me before I got any drunker. Come 2am, the sympathy train gets docked in the station. So go walk it off on the beach and shut the f**k up.
ME: Thanks, drunkie.
FRIEND: Anytime.

Brian and I sat on the sand and watched the waves come in like two characters in a Lifetime movie.

ME: So you ever think I'm going to find him? That perfect guy?
BRIAN: I think you have as good a shot as any of us.
ME: I don't think he'll really need to be perfect. He'll just...I don't know...He'll make me feel perfect.
BRIAN: That's a pretty tall order.
ME: He'll do it and he won't even have to try. That's how I'll know. He'll take in all the flaws and the drama and he'll just smile and kiss me.

I expected some witty reaction from Brian, but instead he just smiled...

...and kissed me.

Hey Sam

2007-07-02T17:42:00.000-07:00

(This was a message I got from someone who used to be in the 100 Dates group on Facebook. I hope he doesn't mind me reprinting it, but I thought it was important to at least put it and my response to it out there since there might be other people who feel the same way.)

hey kevin, thanks for inviting me back to the 100 dates group. i actually got out of the group cause i'm a christian and was reading the bible the other day and came across a bit where paul was saying not to give approval to sin, and i do think homosexuality's sinful, and i figured my being in a group that was all about gay dating was probably giving at least a bit of approval to it, ya know? it was a tough call, cause i do really really enjoy your blog, and i think you're a wonderful writer / storyteller. anyway if you're not too pissed at me to answer after a msg like this, i am curious about what you think about all this, cause you do mention god / religion now and then, and you had that one entry where you went to a website for people who wanna stop being gay. ok, hope i'm not being too offensive. later.

sam

Hey Sam,

I was going to mention that at some point since looking at your profile I could see that you seem to be very religious. I guess I can only make the same arguments everyone else makes--that there are a lot of things in the Bible that aren't meant to be taken literally--or more honestly, that there are a lot of laws and rules in the Bible that we just don't follow anymore because we live in a different time where different social laws apply. I think everyone has a right to believe in what they want even if they don't agree with what I agree with--I went to a Catholic school and all of my religion teachers there--keep in mind this was while I was going through major denial about my sexuality--encouraged tolerance and understanding. They mentioned that--even if you believe homosexuality is a sin--sexual crimes are considered the lowest kind of crimes, and that they're in no way unforgiveable. I DO believe that homophobia and the push to make homosexuals unacceptable in today's society has a lot more to do with politics than religion, or maybe the two go hand in hand, I don't pretend to be smart enough to make that kind of a call. I do know that the same people who are against homosexuality and gay marriage now are the same people who were against integrating schools thirty years ago. I believe they're the same people who were responsible anti-semitism before and after that. I think homophobia is just more socially acceptable now than flat out racism or anti-semitism, or any other kind of prejudice. That doesn't mean I think you're racist or anti-semitic; I'm speaking more generally about the people I see on tv or in the news being very vocal about how homophobic they are and why they think that's acceptable. Occasionally I get frustrated with the gay community, but I've never wished to be anything other than gay. I believe in a God that loves everybody for who they are, and if you happen to screw up here and there, that God will forgive you for it, even though I don't consider being with someone who truly loves you and makes you happy a screw up of any kind.

Anyway Sam, I do hope you'll reconsider coming back to the blog, only because one of the reasons I write it is to chronicle my own personal search for love, and I don't think that's a journey that's unrelatable to anyone. It's not about being gay or gay dating; it's more about dating in general--all the straight friends I have seem to have a lot of the same experiences or problems I do. It's about being a person who wonders from time to time if the right person is out there. I think everyone is entitled to love in whatever way they want it and with whomever they want to share it with.

Let me just say that I appreciate the way you phrased what you had to say, and I think it takes a lot of guts to be religious or have any kind of faith and stick to it nowadays. I just hope that doesn't prevent anyone from realizing that it'll be easier at the end of your life to say that you tried to love and understand everybody equally rather than saying you chose this group over that group. At the end of my life I'd rather just say I loved everybody, and I feel that'll be okay with whoever it is I'm going to meet then.

- Kevin -

Date #95: A Black Tie Affair

2007-06-22T13:34:00.001-07:00

We were all back at the Cheesecake Factory with the exception of Dwight. Since Pride, he'd been skillfully avoiding any opportunity to run into me.

I was making this difficult for him.

VOICEMAIL: Dwight, this is Kevin. Just because you once again confessed your love for me and admitted that you're moving away thereby fulfilling my worst nightmare that everyone I know will one day leave me, that doesn't me we can't eat pizza together from time to time. Call me.

VOICEMAIL: Dwight, I'm outside your house as we speak. As soon as I see you walk out the door, seven ex-Israeli army men are going to grab you, shove you into the white van I'm driving, and we're all going out for doughboys in Warwick. Cell me.

VOICEMAIL: Dwight, I'm sorry I ran away from you. It was stupid and childish. Please call me...And by the way, you still have my copy of The Goonies. You can keep it for another week as long as you text, e-mail, or--just to drive the point home--call me.

Nobody seemed surprised that he wasn't returning my phone calls.

SCOOTER: Why can't you just love the poor guy?
ME: Scooter! Turner, aren't you the one whose supposed to yell his name when he's inappropriate?
TURNER: You two really are very cute together, Kevin.
ME: Cuter than me and Jesse?
TURNER: No, but you're stringing Jesse along--
BRIAN: --Because you're going to end up with Charlie.
NICK: He's not going to end up with Charlie.
ME: Finally, someone doesn't think I'm predictable.
NICK: He's going to end up alone.
ME: I hate you all.

Nobody was all that thrilled with me since their little bet had fallen apart, which meant we were all paying for our own meals tonight.

Still, everyone was putting in their two cents as to who I should wind up with by Date #100.

TURNER: You know, I went back and read the blog and that guy Danny was really sweet.
ME: I think he's on meth now.
NICK: I personally liked Sean.
ME: Yeah, he was great except for the whole 'moving to London' thing.
SCOOTER: You totally should have moved to London.
BRIAN: I'm sticking with Charlie. You two are like Ross and Rachel.
TURNER: Zach and Kelly.
NICK: Shemar Moore and Taye Diggs.

Silence.

NICK: Think about how hot that would be before all of you start giving me the judgmental faces.

When I got home that night, my phone rang. The call came in as "Elephant" which has been my code name for Dwight since we first met.

DWIGHT: Hey.
ME: Hey.
DWIGHT: What are you doing?
ME: I'm not watching The Goonies.
DWIGHT: Yeah, I'll get that back to you. I'm trying to perfect my truffle shuffle.
ME: It's okay. I've seen the movie so many times I can replay it in my head at will.
DWIGHT: I'd like to say that what I said on Pride was the result of drinking too much, but at that point I was incredibly sober.
ME: And did you stay that way?
DWIGHT: Um, no. I got so drunk I might still be hung-over. I also may or may not have witnessed a fight between two bears.
ME: Actual bears or bear-like men?
DWIGHT: When you're that drunk, it could go either way.

So far we were doing pretty well with the convo. It had to be handled delicately or else it would shatter into a million pieces like Mariah's post-TRL psyche.

DWIGHT: Look, the point is, I don't have a lot of time left in Rhode Island, and I'd like to spend it with people I care about, and that includes you.

I actually heard Scooter in my head saying "Why can't you just love the poor guy?"

I wish I knew, Scooter.

DWIGHT: ...And that's why I need the favor.
ME: Wait, what favor?
DWIGHT: I need you to go to the Black Tie Ball with me.
ME: What's the Black Tie Ball? Is it like Oprah's Legend's Ball? Will Toni Morrison be there?
DWIGHT: It's...actually not at all similar in any way, but yes, Toni Morrison should be there.

Apparently, the Black Tie Ball is a gala Mrs. Brown throws every year where she and her rich friends gather and celebrate...I don't know...being rich, I guess.

DWIGHT: They tried raising money for the poor one year, but it just depressed all of them.
ME: I thought your mother was a bleeding heart liberal.
DWIGHT: She is! But nobody loves a pointless party more than a bleeding heart liberal.
ME: And you want me to be your date?
DWIGHT: Yes, and I'm willing to make it worth your while.
ME: Dwight, you don't have to--
DWIGHT: No, no, no. Just to prove to you that this is not some elaborate set-up to get you under the stars in formal attire and hope that you fall in love with me, I'm going to let you in on a well-kept secret.
ME: Is it that clip on youtube of the two black Atlanta women talking about penis power? Because I'm already well--
DWIGHT: No...I mean, in terms of meeting guys. My mother's party happens to be the place to meet elite, single, young gay men.
ME: Are you serious?
DWIGHT: A long time ago my mother made friends with all the rich society matrons whose sons are gay, and every year she invites them and their sons to this party. After last year's soiree they all got wasted out on Reggie's yacht and--
ME: Great, another mass orgy.
DWIGHT: They're not that tacky. It was mostly making out. The point is, you probably haven't met most of these guys before and they're all very smart, and witty, and rich. So...it might be worth going for that.
ME: So you're in love with me and you're trying to set me up at the same time?
DWIGHT: Is it cliche to say I just want you to be happy?
ME: It is, but I adore you for it anyway. I'm in, and not to meet a guy. I'm in because you want me there. And because I haven't seen Mrs. Brown in awhile, and I need a fix.
DWIGHT: You'll get a fix all right. She's at the peak of existence at this shindig.
ME: Giggity giggity.

Going to the black tie affair meant...well...getting a black tie, which meant a trip to my cousin's tuxedo rental place.

SPAZ: Kevano!
ME: Please don't try to Italianize my first name, Spaz. It's Irish, and there's nothing we can do about that.
SPAZ: Pop! Kevano's here!

My cousin Spaz is aptly nicknamed since he has a combo of A.D.D. and...Well, he kind of resembles what a Guido muppet would look like. My uncle Eddie is a burly man, but very sweet. He hugs you and you feel like you're being eaten by a mattress.

UNCLE EDDIE: You don't come around anymore! You embarrassed of your Uncle Eddie?
ME: No, but I am a little embarrassed of Spaz.
UNCLE EDDIE: Who the f**k isn't?
SPAZ: Hey!

I told them I needed a nice-looking suit for a black tie event in Newport, and that I didn't want to look like an extra from Donny Brasco (you have to specify this because it baffles them as to why you wouldn't want to look like that).

Luckily, my Uncle Eddie knows his business well, but just in case, I asked Brian and Turner to stop by and tell me what looked the best.

They showed up just as I was exiting the dressing room in Uncle Eddie's first choice for me.

I thought that something must be horribly wrong. Brian and Turner both looked like they were staring at a mutated koala bear.

ME: Is it that bad?
BRIAN: Um...who are you?
ME: Excuse me?
TURNER: Kevin, you look--uh--
ME: Formal?
BRIAN: F**k me.
ME: Huh?
TURNER: You look fantastic.
BRIAN: F**king fantastic. F**k me now, please.
TURNER: Very chic. Very fantastic.
ME: I get it. I'm the Flame--so to speak.

Don't be so surprised, kids. I'm Portuguese. Portuguese guys pull off formal wear well. I just didn't know I could pull it off that well.

Think I'm exaggerating?

BRIAN: Kevin, want to hang out tonight?
ME: I have the black tie tonight, Brian. Remember?
BRIAN: How about after you get done? I'll be up.
TURNER: Screw that. Come hang out with me.
BRIAN: What about Paye?
TURNER: Screw Paye! He looks like Wes Bentley without the awkwardness!
BRIAN: Screw you! You're taken.

An hour later I got a text from Scooter requesting a picture of me in the tuxedo and then a few pictures after that of me slowly removing the tuxedo seductively.

ME: Wow, tonight should be a good night.

We arrived at the party at 8pm sharp. Dwight looked a little more rumpled than I did, which I think was intentional. His disdain for the event was made clear on the way there.

DWIGHT: I don't want to impress anyone. In fact, if possible, I'd like to de-press people.
ME: Don't worry, Dwight. You're excellent at depressing people.
DWIGHT: Keep that biting wit up, you'll need it.

The first person I saw upon arriving at the outdoor court where the gala was being held was Mrs. Brown. I have an incredible admiration for people ballsy enough to throw outdoor events. Usually the nicer you want to make it, the more impossible it is to salvage if the weather sucks.

MRS. BROWN: There's my favorite guy--and my son.
ME: Be nice, Mrs. Brown. Dwight's the reason I'm here.
DWIGHT: That and I promised him free canape.
MRS. BROWN: Dwight hates coming here. Every year he threatens not to show up and every year I threaten to show him the video of him being born when he least expects it.
DWIGHT: One year I held out until she set up a projector outside the house and told me she was going to screen my birth like a drive-in movie for all of the east side.
MRS. BROWN: A mother must negotiate. Go grab your seats boys. The sooner you get to mingling the better.

The party was filled with two kinds of people--Liberal society matrons and their polished gay sons. I could only find a handful of straight guys, and most of them were servers.

ME: I can't believe I've gone from Pride to this.
DWIGHT: Oh, beware. These boys have much sharper teeth than your average gays.
VOICE: You can say that again.

Dwight and I turned around to see a handsome, young 20's looking guy approach us.

RICH GAY: Dwight, I don't believe I've met your friend.
DWIGHT: I just flew him in from the Appalachia's. He's the champion possum skinner of his region.
RICH GAY: Now, now.
ME: No, he's being serious. Although I did almost lose the title this year when I skinned a possum that wasn't technically dead yet.
RICH GAY: I can't even imagine the controversy.
ME: I couldn't show my face in the general store for weeks.
RICH GAY: He's clever, Dwight. Good going.
DWIGHT: Thank you, Steven.
RICH GAY/STEVEN: Usually Dwight just shows up by himself.

I felt the snappy aura of Mrs. Brown behind me.

MRS. BROWN: I finally convinced him this year to take a date. I told him that try as he might, he bears absolutely no resemblance to Gatsby.
DWIGHT: How would you know, Mother? You don't read a book unless Hilary or Barack is on the cover.
MRS. BROWN: As opposed to your swastika-ed reading list--
DWIGHT: For the last time, Mother: Guliani's book does not have a swastika on--
ME: Where's this canape I keep hearing so much about?
STEVEN: I'll lead you to it.

Steven led me to a refreshment table while Mrs. Brown and Dwight bantered back and forth about political books and who the bigger Anti-Christ is--Condoleeza Rice or Al Franken.

STEVEN: I'm amazed somebody finally talked the Stag Fag into opening his heart.
ME: The Stag Fag?
STEVEN: It's our term of endearment for Dwight.
ME: Sounds very endearing, and Dwight and I are friends--very close friends.
STEVEN: So I better keep the bashing to a minimum.
ME: It would be a good idea.
STEVEN: Don't get me wrong, I admire Dwight. Did you meet him at that little shindig they had in Providence last weekend?
ME: You mean Pride?
STEVEN: Yeah that.

I detected and noted a tone of disdain.

STEVEN: You'll find that the guys here tonight aren't really into that whole scene. Shirtless E addicts frolicking from club to club, making out with complete strangers, and making complete fools of themselves the entire time. We're a little bit more refined here.

I wasn't actually opposed to that idea, even though I was utterly repulsed by the fact that I was hanging out with a gay version of Scrooge McDuck.

If the other boys here were of a higher quality of homosexual, that might not be a bad thing. When I returned to the table, I shared my observation with Dwight.

DWIGHT: Trust me, they're just as bad as regular gays.
ME: At least they're intelligent. Part of me wishes I was born in another century. I mean, think of Oscar Wilde. He got laid like crazy by all kinds of hot guys, and it wasn't because he was cute--I mean, for godsakes, they had Stephen Frey play him in the movie!

(Not that I don't find Stephen Frey incredibly sexy...)

http://readingmachine.co.il/home/contribs/stephen_fry/steven-frey.jpg

Grrrrowwl!

DWIGHT: So you wish you had been born during a time when it was legal to persecute someone for being gay, and as an example, you mention someone who actually was persecuted for being gay.
ME: I just think it would be nice if being gay was still associated with being cultured, and intelligent, and sophisticated. The recognized gay icon has gone from being a guy like Oscar Wilde to Jack from Will and Grace.

We would have kept this up but boys started coming to the table to find out who Dwight's supposedly funny and charming date was (humble? Yes, I am).

DAVIS: Dwight, you and your date will have to come to the after-party on the boat.
DWIGHT: You mean the one I wasn't invited to last year?
DAVIS: You knew about that?
ME: He's gay. He knows more about what happened at the parties he wasn't invited to than the ones he was.
DAVIS: That sounds like it came straight off a Dorothy Parker calendar. So, what do you boys say?
DWIGHT: I say nay, but Kevin can go if he wants to.
DAVIS: And I hope he will.

Following the boat-owning Davis was Trevor--

TREVOR: You do theater? That's terrific. I dabbled in theater in high school, but that was enough for me.

I hate when people say "dabbled in theater" as if theater is an Hors d'Oeuvre made of mushroom and cilantro that you bite into but only begrudgingly swallow.

ME: And what do you do now?
TREVOR: I'm a journalism major.
ME: Oh, I dabbled a journalist in college--that was enough for me.

--And then Carter--

CARTER: Where did you meet Dwight?
ME: Prison.

--And that was that. Despite my best efforts, the rich gays seemed intrigued. Dwight looked merely exhausted.

DWIGHT: You're only fueling their interest you know.
ME: So what? I like people who underestimate me.
DWIGHT: By the way, this might bring back some awkwardness from last weekend, but I did want to mention that you look absolutely amazing tonight.
ME: Awww...In the words of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman--and I'm definitely misquoting--'Don't try so hard, I'm a sure thing.'

After a trip to the men's room--which took me twenty minutes to find since it was inside the building next to the event (a building that was clearly designed by whomever did the set for the cult movie Labrynth) I ran into Steven and Davis.

STEVEN: Enjoying the party so far, Kevin?
ME: I'm having a great time.
DAVIS: I'm surprised. All you've done all night is sit at the table with Dwight while he works on his Eeyore impression.
ME: I'm surprised you boys are so casual when it comes to insulting someone to their date.
STEVEN: Ohh, Dwight knows how we feel about him, and the feeling is mutual, but you--You, we're still feeling out.
ME: Question, if you in fact like me, when exactly would I be switched with a perky robot version of myself and given a house in Stepford?

The boys laughed at that and I couldn't help but smile.

STEVEN: Throw whatever little barbs at us you want, Kevin, but the truth is, you're enticed by us, aren't you?
ME: I wouldn't say enticed, but I do enjoy a good back-and-forth.

A good back-and-forth? If I keep talking like this I might have to move to Connecticut and take up golf.

DAVIS: So come to the after-party then.
ME: I don't know. Dwight probably won't be up for--
STEVEN: Oh God, don't bring Dwight.
ME: Wasn't he invited?
DAVIS: Yes, but only because we knew he wouldn't come.
STEVEN: And we couldn't invite you without inviting him.
ME: Guys, I know he can be a little bit of a downer sometimes, but I don't like cliques or clique-y people, so if that's how you guys are--
STEVEN: It's not so much his attitude. We just don't like surrounding ourselves with guys we don't want to f**k.

Um...Did that just bypass the silver spoon and come out of his mouth?

ME: Excuse me?
DAVIS: Oh, come on. You can be nice about it all you want, but you have to admit, he's not exactly a looker.
STEVEN: Pasty skin, bit of a belly--
DAVIS: Beady eyes--
ME: His eyes are beady!
STEVEN: All that coupled with his gleaming personality, and I'd rather shag an oak tree.
ME: What happened to being above all that nasty gay shallowness?
STEVEN: Even the Greeks appreciated beauty first and foremost, Kevin.
ME: What do you know about Greeks? They used to have sex in large public bathrooms--they were the skanks of the Western world. And their idea of beauty is completely different than--
STEVEN: What's wrong with a shag in a public bathroom?

He and Davis cackled at that, and I thought--

Okay, that's it.

ME: First off, you're not British, you're just gay, so don't say 'shag.' Secondly, I think Dwight is sexier than everyone I've met here tonight aside from being three times as personable as any of you. Thirdly, I appreciate guys with candor, so in that spirit let me be candid myself and say that you, Steven, have bad teeth--stained, crooked, Crypt-keeper-esque I would say. Davis, you're in no position to comment on eyes, since one of yours was clearly lazy at some point and still maintains a bit of a drag. If you happen to talk to Carter or Trevor, since I'm sure they share your opinion of my date, please let them know that one of them has breath so bad I'm surprised they still have lips and the other had sweat stains under their arms and a clearly receeding hairline--they'll know which is which.

Dabble in that, motherf**kers.

Yes, I know I sunk to their level, but where else are you supposed to go when you need to beat someone at their own game.

I ran into Mrs. Brown on my way back to the table, and I was still fuming.

MRS. BROWN: The boys have gotten to you, haven't they?
ME: They're the most obnoxious group of people I've ever met.
MRS. BROWN: I know, they're all pricks.
ME: So why do you throw this stupid party and make Davis come here to be berated by these people?
MRS. BROWN: I guess I still cling to the party's original goal.
ME: Which was?
MRS. BROWN: Kevin, look around. Do you notice anything about tonight?
ME: It's all gays and their mothers. As a matter of fact, it's like a Mother and Son Dance at a musical theater academy.
MRS. BROWN: Exactly. That's pretty much what I was going for.

Huh?

MRS. BROWN: None of us here will ever get to see our sons walk down an aisle with their new bride on their arm. Not the way we'd imagined it when they were growing up anyway. Not in a big church with a priest and the frivolities of religion hanging in the air. Many of us may never have grandchildren. We won't get the same big events that mothers of straight sons get.
ME: This is borderline pathetic if you're going where I think you're going.
MRS. BROWN: I'm not. This isn't a substitute for us--Well, it is, but it's also a substitute for them. I could never think of an opportunity where I could get to honor my son. I mean, there's birthdays, but everyone gets that. I wanted something where I could mark the passing of his life and say 'Dwight, I'm so proud of you for having the courage to be who you are.' I wanted to let him know that I didn't give a damn if he ever got married or had kids or did anything the traditional way. I just wanted him to know that his mother loves him more than anything on this earth.

Wow...

ME: And all these people?

She smiled and surveyed the party as if taking in a panorama.

MRS. BROWN: People who feel the way I do. It's sad that the boys have gotten so jaded over the years. I guess that's just the way the world works. Dwight might be surprised to know how much they all have in common.
ME: I don't think Dwight has anything in common with these guys.
MRS. BROWN: Oh no? Why do you think they all are the way they are, Kevin? I know you tend to think that gay people should uphold that old-fashioned cleverness, but the truth is, your culture and your community adapts the way it does in order to survive. You used to be able to get by with being quiet and making snide comments in essays and plays, but now you can be loud, and opinionated, and shallow, and oh-my-God stupid! You have permission to be stupid if you want to be. Basically, you can be human. That, my darling, is freedom.

She gave me a kiss on the cheek and swept off in another direction. I walked back over to Dwight who was taking in another drink.

DWIGHT: Please tell me you want to blow this popsicle stand?
ME: I'm all for blowing popsicles, but not at the moment. Not without a dance.
DWIGHT: Great, let's dance and then ditch.
ME: Not with me, Dwight. You're going to dance with your mother.
DWIGHT: Kevin, the last time I checked, Hell was still relatively warm.
ME: Dwight, your mother may not be perfect, but she loves you, and this party is an expression of that. The least you can do is show a little appreciation. Who cares if everyone here is snide and catty? It's not about them. It's about you and your mom.
DWIGHT: My mom and I are the definition of snide and catty.
ME: Never too late to change that, you know.

I got him up and walked him a few feet in the direction of Mrs. Brown before he finally got the hint and walked over to himself. When I saw him ask her to dance, I could see that she was absolutely flabbergasted. Then, he held out his arm, she took it, and the two of them walked to the floor and danced.

FRIEND: Cue the f**king 80's sap music.
ME: Be nice.
FRIEND: And did you have fun walking around looking all sexy, skank?
ME: I did in fact, but...it gave me a new perspective about something.
FRIEND: Oh yeah, what's that?
ME: Okay, well, when I was a kid, I used to love Lois and Clark--
FRIEND: The Superman show? With Dean Cain and the pecs and--
ME: Right. Now, on the show, Lois Lane kissed Superman way before she ever knew that Superman was Clark Kent, but the thing was, even though she was kissing the same person, to me, as a kid, it never felt like she was kissing Clark Kent--
FRIEND: --Because she didn't know she was kissing Clark Kent?
ME: Right. I remember waiting two years until she finally knew kissed Clark and chose him over Superman, but what I never understood was--Why didn't he just tell her? Why did he just say 'Hey Lois, I'm Superman. You love him so that means you love me too! Isn't it great?'
FRIEND: He didn't tell her because Superman wasn't him. He wanted her to love simple, sweet Clark Kent with the glasses and the old suit and the pecs, oh God, the pecs--
ME: Exactly. Somehow it didn't count that she loved Superman, because every woman would love Superman. Somehow it only counted if she loved Clark more. That's how I felt tonight at the party. For one night I got to be Superman, and what I realized was, these guys would never love Kevin Broccoli--they couldn't. They don't have it in them. They wouldn't love me if they knew all the flaws and the cracks, if they saw me at 7am when I first wake up, or when I'm lounging around in nothing but sweats and a t-shirt.
FRIEND: And how did you feel after you had that revelation?
ME: I felt good.
FRIEND: Really?
ME: Yeah, I mean...isn't it good to know what it's going to take to know that you've found the right person?
FRIEND: It's going to take them taking off your glasses and replacing them with new fierce designer sunglasses?
ME: It's going to take them loving Clark Kent.
FRIEND: Aww...I need to purge.

I was so exhausted after the gala. For some reason, formal events tire me out. God help me if I ever become a pageant queen.

When I got home I had two texts on my phone, and five dates left until this would all be over.

TEXT FROM CHARLIE: Want to come over--I sleep better with you here :O)
TEXT FROM JESSE: Come cuddle with me. I've got ice cream and The Breakfast Club.

Sometimes it's not just waiting for someone to find Clark Kent. Sometimes it's about knowing how to find him yourself.

Date #94: Once Upon a Pride

2007-06-18T10:29:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time at Pride...

Actually, wait--we need to start at the Cheesecake Factory where the boys and I were having a pre-Pride dinner.

I was confessing my belief that "the one" might just be at the festivities the following night.

ME: There's a good chance, right? Every gay guy in the tri-state area is going to be there.
TURNER: I bet if we all spread out we could find you Mr. Right by the time the parade is done.
BRIAN: I am not S.W.A.T.'ing Pride just to find Kevin a boyfriend. I'll be too busy trying to find myself a boyfriend.
ME: Spoken like a true gay friend.
NICK: The homo stands alone.

DWIGHT: We should help. We've all been immortalized thanks to this little blog of his. It's fitting that we find him the perfect guy.
SCOOTER: Maybe I could find him the perfect guy. I don't know about the rest of you.
BRIAN: Spoken by someone whose attempted this already and failed.
SCOOTER: That was different. I had limited options before, but if I can choose from everybody at Pride--
TURNER: Kevin, I could spot a match for you in a second.
NICK: Who are you kidding? You wound up with the dance instructor.
BRIAN: Someone shouldn’t be talking—

ALL: Christopher—cough cough—Christopher.

NICK: Keep on coughing until someone gets cut.
ME: All right, guys. Let's not have a fight. This place is semi-classy.

Scooter got a gleaming look in his eye.

SCOOTER: I think there's only one way to settle this.
ME: Please do not make this a wager.
SCOOTER: Whoever finds Kevin's 'one' by the end of the night--
BRIAN: Buys dinner for all of us a week from today right here at this lovely over-priced establishment.
ME: That's all my true love is worth? Dinner for five?
NICK: Don't complain. You're the one who's going to get the most out of this.
ME: I appreciate it guys, but I already kind of have a date for Pride.
ALL: Who?
ME: Charlie.

Groans all around. Miles of groans. Decades of groans.

Okay, I guess we're going to have to backtrack even more.

(P.S. This entry is going to include a lot of references to past dates, so if you don't know who I'm talking about, don't just post 'Who is this? Is he important? I don't remember him.' in the comment zone. Go back and do some reading, kids. I'll try to put little refreshers here and there to help out though.)

Meanwhile, at Charlie's--

CHARLIE: I miss you.
ME: Charlie--
CHARLIE: I'm not saying I want a relationship. I'm not ready for that right now, and I don't think you are either--
ME: Whoa, I'm ready--
CHARLIE: I just...I'd like to still see each other. I miss having you around.

The truth is, I really miss him, too.

ME: Maybe we can work something out.
CHARLIE: Like shared custody? I can see you on the weekends? We’ll go to the zoo?
ME: No, I mean--We can try hanging out again and see how it goes.
CHARLIE: Where would you want it to go?
ME: I don't know--a friendship would be nice, and then--
CHARLIE: Kevin, I've seen your penis...in the morning...I've seen morning penis. Friendship might be a little rough.
ME: That's not true! Lots of guys have seen my penis that I'm friends with...Um...wait that's...Oh, screw it. Who cares? And what's wrong with my penis in the morning?
CHARLIE: All right, enough about penis. What are you doing for Pride?

And that's how Charlie became my Pride date...sort of.

BRIAN: What do you mean 'sort of'?
ME: He's going with a posse, but we're going to hang out a little bit that night.
TURNER: But that doesn't mean we can't try fixing you up throughout the night, right?
ME: I guess not, just not right in front of him. I don't want to be tacky like that. Plus I have some other friends who are in town that wanted to hang out.
SCOOTER: We'll be--what's the word--
DWIGHT: Discreet?
SCOOTER: Right.
BRIAN: You know, I would have bet that you wouldn't have been able to recall the word 'discreet.'

So the next night, I was at the parade with Charlie and some of his friends kicking off the Pride festivities when Nick called me.

ME: Nick?
NICK: Where are you?
ME: I'm at the parade.
NICK: Me, too. Oh wait, I see you! Come across the street.
ME: Now? The parade's going on!
NICK: Just cut across. I have someone I want you to meet.

Against my better judgment, I raced across the street--along the way I almost wound up getting recruited by some sort of lesbian marching band--and met up with Nick and his...um...submission.

NICK: Kev, this is Richie.

Richie was a big guy. Broad shoulders, big arms--and he was wearing a black t-shirt that was almost bursting off of him. (I'm such a sucker for guys who can fill out a black t-shirt.)

He was watching the parade so I leaned over to Nick and whispered--

ME: Thank you.
NICK: Merry Pride, baby.

Richie turned around and we were formally introduced. Instantly, I could tell something was wrong. We exchanged a few words, and then I excused myself--partly because I didn't want to ditch Charlie and partly because the tension was becoming a little too much for me.

I texted Nick once I was back across the street.

TEXT FROM ME: Um...problem?
TEXT FROM NICK: I didn't know.
TEXT FROM ME: Didn't know what?
TEXT FROM NICK: He only likes black guys.
TEXT FROM ME: But he's white.
TEXT FROM NICK: That's why I didn't know. He thought you were going to be black.
TEXT FROM ME: So he's a white guy racist against white guys?
TEXT FROM NICK: Yup.
TEXT FROMO ME: Asshole.
TEXT FROM NICK: I know…Is it bad that I still think he's hot?
TEXT FROM ME: No, I do, too.

Hey, I'm allowed to be attracted! I'm the one being discriminated against here.

Before beginning the long night of dancing and debauchery, Charlie and I decided to get some pizza at Antonio's. I was especially happy since they had the bacon, chicken, and ranch that's so good I usually have to eat it in private in case I make orgasmic noises during consumption.

Because parking and covers were all jacked up (what a way to say 'I love the gays'--by milking us dry) I parked in the only free spot I could find--across town--literally--past the highway overpass. Charlie walked back with me to the block party at D.L.

ME: So have you been dating anyone?
CHARLIE: Nah, most of the gay guys in this town--
ME: You don't even need to finish that sentence.
CHARLIE: How about you? Have you been dating around?
ME: Oh, just the usual...

(The usual forty-something dates.)

CHARLIE: The last time I hung out with a guy he put his hand on my crotch and I kicked him out so I could shower five times in a row.

This made me smile. I mean, come on, what's better than knowing your ex isn't having any sex? Did I just call him my "ex"? That's weird. I mean...

ME: Now, if one of us gets hit on or something tonight...
CHARLIE: I'm just here to dance and have fun.
ME: Me too, and potentially meet my soulmate.
CHARLIE: Haha, you're funny.
ME: Haha, yeah...I am.

Hey, why not have faith? I grew up on Trick goddammit. I believe in gay romantic comedy and go-go boys who suddenly want to settle down with musical-theater loving dorks!

The first person I saw at the block party was Dwight. I hugged him--which turned into a long hug since I could barely move. The place was insanely crowded.

ME: Dwight, I'd introduce you to Charlie but he went to the bar to get a drink and now I'm not sure I'm ever going to see him again.
DWIGHT: Yeah, this crowd is nuts.
ME: If by nuts you mean 'I think someone might be giving me a physical exam right now' then yeah, definitely nuts.
DWIGHT: Kevin, I figured out who your perfect guy is.
ME: He's not racist and hot, is he? Because that was Nick's entry.
DWIGHT: No, I don't need you to meet anybody. You already know him.
ME: I do?
DWIGHT: It's me, Kevin. I'm your guy.

Oh Christ...

I would have taken a step back, but I couldn’t. Dwight and I were literally face-to-face which made this even more uncomfortable.

ME: Dwight, I know what you're going to say--
DWIGHT: I don't think you do, actually. There's a lot I haven't told you.
ME: Dwight, we'd be an awful couple. We would never gel.
DWIGHT: We gel great as friends.
ME: Good friends don't always make good anything else.
DWIGHT: Kevin, I'm leaving soon.

Na-who-what-what?

ME: Leaving? Leaving to go where?
DWIGHT: I'm going to grad school in the fall--Syracuse.
ME: And you were going to tell me that when?
DWIGHT: I hadn't made up my mind yet, but...I thought maybe if I didn't tell you that you would be more inclined...
ME: Inclined to what? Fall for you? Great, so you don't tell me you're going away because you know I have a huge fear of abandonment, so instead you spring it on me as a way to try and coerce me to do it anyway!
DWIGHT: No, if you fell for me, I was going to stay.
ME: Don't put that on me, Dwight. That's not fair.
DWIGHT: I know it's not, but it's how it is. If you want me to stay, I'll stay.
ME: I want you to stay, but I can't ask you to stay, because I don't have those feelings for you, Dwight. I'm sorry.

On the word 'sorry' my voice cracked. It suddenly became very apparent to me that I was turning down an awesome guy, maybe the perfect guy--definitely the guy who will make you soup when you're sick and surprise you on your birthday with tickets to some play he really doesn't want to see but plans on going to anyway because it'll make you happy.

...And yet.

ME: I'm sorry that for some reason the wiring in my brain refuses to allow me to do something healthy for myself right now, but that doesn't change the fact that I can't.

With that, I pushed through the crowd and made my way back to Charlie.

(And yes, I’m aware that what I said was the stupidest sentence ever constructed by anyone who isn’t a chimp pointing out letters as she’s being taught to speak by scientists.)

I bumped right into Charlie as I was fleeing.

CHARLIE: Hey, you okay?
ME: It's just a little claustrophobic here. You want to try MB?
CHARLIE: Sure.

On the way to MB, I kept running into people--which is funny, seeing as how MB is merely across the street from the DL.

RANDOM PERSON: Kevin?
ME: Um, hi...
RANDOM PERSON: Do you not--
ME: Oh my God!

IT WAS BIG BAG GUY! AND I COULDN'T REMEMBER HIS NAME!!! AND I CLEARLY COULDN'T CALL HIM 'BIG BAG GUY'! AND I SAID “OH MY GOD” LIKE AN IDIOT! WHY AM I STILL TYPING IN CAPITAL LETTERS? COVER, KEVIN, COVER!

ME: Hey, what's up?
BBG: Nothing much. Haven't talked to you in awhile.

Oh dear God, he even had the bag with him. Wait, this was a new bag. A gayer bag. It had tassles.

ME: I know, how have you been?
BBG: Good. Just you know...craziness.

Crazy bag person, what?

As if sent from the gods, Scooter chose that moment to appear.

SCOOTER: There's the man of the hour.
ME: Scooter! There you are! I’ve missed you. This is…um…
SCOOTER: How you doing, Chuck? And I also already know Ricky.

Ricky! Wow, did I ever know his name? Because that still doesn't ring a bell.

Scooter grabbed me in a headlock and whispered in my ear.

SCOOTER: I've got a surprise for you.
ME: Please tell me Bag Boy isn't your submission into this sick little contest that's already way out of control.
SCOOTER: Helllllls no. I just thought it might be fun to have a little blog reunion.

My heart fell into my ugly shoes.

ME: What are you talking about?
SCOOTER: Hey, we already got two of your previous entries.
ME: You did not--
SCOOTER: Oh, but I did.

It was then I heard--

BBG: Hey Scooter, what's this reunion you e-mailed me about?

I...will...kill...him.

Sure enough, MB was full of them. Christopher passed me as I was going under the tent towards the bar. He actually grabbed me with two very sweaty hands and kissed me on the cheek.

CHRISTOPHER: Long time, no see, buddy.
ME: There's a reason for that, buddy.
CHRISTOPHER: What?
ME: Nothing.
CHRISTOPHER: I'm so drunk.
ME: Hot.
CHRISTOPHER: Want to see my new piercing?
ME: Where is it?
CHRISTOPHER: On my--
ME: Never mind then.

I saw Scooter disappear inside the club and I decided to go after him before he rounded up all the usual suspects and we had ourselves an I Love New York style special reunion.

On the way inside the actual club, I saw Roque (Twisted Mister) who got a tattoo that says “Bogart”—no clue there, 8th Grade Crush who was hanging out with another one of my 8th grade crushes--both of them gave me a dirty look, and of course, Allan.

ALLAN: Well, well, well. We have to stop running into each other like that.
ME: Unless one of us is driving a fast-moving motor vehicle.
ALLAN: I guess it wouldn't be Gay Day without some witty repartee.

I looked behind him and saw Travis and Teddy.

ME: I see the whole gang's here.
ALLAN: Just like old times.
ME: So you won't be getting laid tonight then?
ALLAN: Maybe not, but I'm sure you will. Everyone here seems to know you.
ME: You think this is bad? I can't walk down the street in Montreal.
ALLAN: Why? The tips aren't good enough?
ME: Where's Blake? Shouldn't he be alternating between puking on you and giving you head?
ALLAN: He's upstairs talking to some 12-year-old.
ME: Some things never change. I guess I'll be making a phone call to his fiancee.
ALLAN: Oh, that's over with. She came home one day and caught him with her best gay friend.
ME: Shut up!
ALLAN: Don't believe me? Ask Teddy.
ME: Why would I--Teddy was the—Oh my--God, this state is too small.

I made my way upstairs to find Scooter, and ended up running into Turner and Paye on the third floor.

TURNER: Kevin! Perfect timing. I've got my guy all set for you.
ME: Tell me you're not giving me Paye. I've had enough insanity for one night.
PAYE: I think he's got something else in mind. He just sent some cute little Southern boy to the bathroom.
ME: Southern boy?

It was then that I heard a voice behind me.

VOICE: Happy Pride, hot stuff.

I turned around to see Jesse--looking cuter than he's looked as of yet, and that's saying something.

He came up to me and gave me a kiss, then put his arm around my waist.

JESSE: So I'm assuming this was planned because your friend here called me up and told me I had to meet him on the third floor of MB at 11:30pm.
ME: Turner--
TURNER: I need to borrow my friend Kevin for a second. Paye entertain the cute Southern boy.

Jesse brought me over to the window looking out on the festivities below.

TURNER: He's amazing. You need to not screw this up.
ME: I'm aware he's amazing, but so is Charlie.
TURNER: So it's between him and Charlie?
ME: No--it's not between anyone and anyone.
TURNER: How many more home runs do you think you're going to hit, Kev?
ME: I don't know.
TURNER: All I'm saying is, at some point you got to run for home base.
ME: Are you actually using baseball analogies with me right now?
TURNER: I can switch to football if you want.
ME: Let's go back to the bar, Madden.

Turner and Paye took off after a few minutes to go dance, leaving me with the Boy Wonder.

ME: What's that on your arm?
JESSE: I was practicing an illustration for this book I'm writing.
ME: I didn't even know you were into writing?
JESSE: Yeah, I write kids books. Fairy tale stuff.
ME: And you illustrate them yourself?
JESSE: Yup. Right now I'm working on the first ever gay fairy tale.
ME: That should go over well with the toddlers.
JESSE: Hey, how many fairy tales did I have to listen to about girls and boys kissing? Kids are never too young to learn tolerance.
ME: Well, you'll have to write me a fairy tale one day. The story of a peasant boy looking for his prince.
JESSE: That sounds more like an adult film.
ME: Hey, I’ll take what I can get. Let's go dance.

I had just realized that my friends from out of town were probably here already. All this juggling was starting to get to me. I passed Scooter on the stairway.

SCOOTER: Broco!
ME: You're dead to me.
SCOOTER: Let me explain.
ME: I'm all exes--in case you haven't noticed.
SCOOTER: This is my submission.
ME: Which one is your submission?
SCOOTER: All of them. I'm betting that you've already passed up Mr. Right.
ME: And what makes you say that?

We were having this conversation as we worked out way through the crowd back outside. Jesse was a few people ahead of me.

SCOOTER: Because if I know you, you already found something good and let it go.
ME: So you and Turner have teamed up then?
SCOOTER: Huh?
ME: Forget about it.
SCOOTER: I just think there might be somebody here who deserves a second try.

As he said that, we made it outside and I saw Charlie standing by the bar.

ME: You might be right about that.

I had lost Jesse somewhere in the crowd, so I approached Charlie only to find that Brian was already there.

BRIAN: Hey there.
ME: Hey.
CHARLIE: Your friend Brian and I were just talking.
ME: That’s cool. I still haven’t found my out of town friends.
CHARLIE: I don’t know how you’d find anybody here. I think one of the guys I came with is in the corner keeled over from drinking too much. I’ll be right back.

He took off towards his friend.

ME: Let me guess: Charlie is your submission.
BRIAN: You got it.
ME: Because you actually think we’d be good together, or because that was the safest bet?
BRIAN: Both.
ME: I do really like him.
BRIAN: I think you more than like him. I think you lurve him, Woody.

Just maybe I…

But then the music started playing a song I knew, and instead of letting me finish my statement, Brian grabbed me and pulled me out onto the dance floor where after a short while I found my two out-of-town friends and spent the rest of the evening dancing and looking around for Jesse.

Charlie joined us and danced along, and all I could wonder was: Is this it? Is he really the one? Should I just quit now and let the fairy tale end happily? Standing here, dancing amongst my friends, a beautiful night, a city full of gays? Does it get any better than this?

FRIEND: With six dates to go? Are you f**king crazy?
ME: You know, I looked around at everybody at the club that night, and all I could think was…I’m not really drawn to anybody here and none of them were drawn to me, obviously. Nobody even asked me to dance all night. Am I just chemically dead or something?
FRIEND: No, you’re probably just exhausted. You’ve dated more in a year than I…Well, I’ve never been on an actual date, so I don’t know where I was going with that.
ME: I wish I could have said good-bye to Jesse. He probably went home with some cute boy from Massachusetts who doesn’t conduct weird gay dating social experiments.
FRIEND: Well, I usually never make this promise, but I can almost guarantee he wasn’t one of the boys in my bed last night.
ME: Thank you, sweetie.

When I woke up the next day, I had a voicemail.

Once upon a time, there was a poor lonely prince named Kevin who was looking for the perfect boy to sweep him off his feet. The only problem was that every boy he met seemed to not see him for who he was. They all thought he was this or that, and they’d say “Prince Kevin, you’re this or that” but none of them understood just who he was or how wonderful he could be. Then one day another Prince rode into town, and his name was Prince Jesse. He walked up to Prince Kevin and kissed him, right out on the moat, in front of the whole kingdom, because he saw him for who he really was, and he had him climb up on his horse and the two of them rode off together and lived happily ever after.

There’s your fairy tale, Kev. Happy Pride.

I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.

CHARLIE: Hey, how’d you sleep last night?
ME: Fine, thanks.
CHARLIE: You want breakfast?
ME: Sure.

Funny how fairy tales never have twist endings.

Date #93: Ghetto Superstar

2007-06-15T09:52:00.000-07:00

Now that I'm getting closer to Date #100, it seems people are a little more interested in going out with me.

BRIAN: I'm going to be Date #100, right?

Brian popped the semi-question at the N.C. and seemed shocked at how shocked I was that one of my best friends suddenly has an interest in going out on a date with me.

ME: You want to go out on a date with me?
BRIAN: Oh, it won't be like a real date. It'll be celebratory of your completing the blog.
ME: So it'll be like a 'Hey, clearly I failed at finding someone since I'm on a date with someone who isn't even remotely attracted to me' kind of a date?
BRIAN: Kevin, you're on what now? Ninety-one--
ME: Ninety-two.
BRIAN: Clearly, you need to find a way to bring this to a close without the closing being about finding the perfect guy.
ME: Brian, I believe that life is like television. In television, some things don't even get cleared up until the very last episode. So I am going to use every single date to its fullest.
BRIAN: But I want to be Date #100!
ME: Well unfortunately the most you could have looked forward to was a ceremonial date somewhere in the 70's, but that time has come and gone.

Brian looked a little perturbed at first, and then opened up his Murse and took out a small packet of papers.

BRIAN: Then you might want to make use of these.

He dropped them in front of me. They looked like printed out e-mails.

BRIAN: They're printed out e-mails.

Well, there you go.

ME: From who?
BRIAN: People who have found me on myspace and facebook and would like to try their luck at the newest reality show about to be off the air--Find Kevin a Boyfriend.
ME: There must be thirty e-mails here.
BRIAN: I printed out a few of them just to be funny, but then they kept coming in, and I was low on paper.
ME: This is insane. Where are all these people coming from? I've been doing the blog all year.
BRIAN: It seems many of them find you sweet, funny, and honest--Don't ask me where they get that from. I think some of them may have you confused with another spinster blogger.

I can't believe it. Eight dates left and all of a sudden people are coming out of the woodwork. Unless...

ME: Do you think these people actually think they'd be a good match for me, or do they just want the honor of closing out the blog?
BRIAN: From reading most of those, I'd say it's about sixty-forty in favor of closing out the blog, but forty percent of all that isn't bad.

He's got a good point. Then hey, why not have a little fun?

ME: Okay, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to go through all of these, and randomly pick one of the guys who legitimately wants to go on a date with me, just to see what happens.
BRIAN: Shouldn't you be picking with a little more--
ME: A little more what? I've done everything I can think of to try and find someone who'd be a good match for me, and so far, I'm still single. So why not just throw a prayer up in the air and see if I get an answer.
BRIAN: A prayer up in the air? Are you an alcoholic now?
ME: Not yet, but talk to me in about six more dates.

I gathered some friends together for a "Pick Kevin's Date" party. Dwight, Scooter, and Turner came armed with liquor (for them) and tortilla chips (for me).

DWIGHT: I like this guy. Please tell Kevin that I jerk off to his blog. Thinking about Scooter just--
SCOOTER: Hey, can I have that one?
TURNER: Sadly, over four of these so far have been love letters to Scooter, and I've only read seven.
ME: Terrific. I've managed to spend a year of my life finding a boyfriend for Scooter.
SCOOTER: Can we stop talking about Scooter like he's not in the room? Thank you.
DWIGHT: Here's one for you, Kev. You seem like a really sweet guy. I think we could have a great connection. I'd love to take you out on a date. Signed, Billy.
ME: He sounds nice.
SCOOTER: He sounds ugly.
TURNER: Scooter!
SCOOTER: Hot guys don't talk like that.
ME: Don't be ridiculous.
SCOOTER: I don't talk like that.
ME: All the more reason to look into it.
SCOOTER: I know a loser when I hear one.
ME: He doesn't sound like a loser at all.
DWIGHT: Sorry, but I kind of held back on that one. P.S. I named my new pug after you. He's called Mr. B.

Let's pause for a second.

ME: Moving on!

I had Brian forward me the rest of his e-mails so we had a good amount to choose from, plus the ones Scooter got on his blog, and the ones I've gotten over the past few months.

Finally, I came upon one that I really liked.

ME: Guys, this one sounds nice. Hey Kevin, I'm just a regular guy looking for another regular guy. I wish I could say I'm expecting wonders, but I've always been a bit on the cynical side and your blog has shown me that the pickings out there are slim to say the least. That being said, you've also given me hope, because if there's cool guys like you out there, then maybe there's hope for all of us. If you ever want to get coffee or something, just e-mail me back or call me. My number is...
TURNER: Sounds decent.
DWIGHT: Sounds normal.
SCOOTER: I like his sentence structure.

We all looked at him.

SCOOTER: What I do?

I contemplated writing down the guy's e-mail address under the headline "(Not So) Random Pick."

ME: He's definitely legitimate. Doesn't sound like he's in it for the date number.
DWIGHT: Speaking of which, why aren't I Date #100?
SCOOTER: I was going to ask the same thing.
ME: Are you two serious? What is with everyone wanting to be Date #100? It's not like you get a prize at the end of it.
DWIGHT: I just think it would be cool, that's all.
SCOOTER: Besides, don't you want to get laid once you hit 100?
TURNER: Scooter, knock it off.
ME: Thank you, Turner.
TURNER: So I'm Date #100, right?

I called my mystery date (Anthony) after all the boys left that night.

ANTHONY: Yo, sup?
ME: Um...is this Anthony?
ANTHONY: Who wants to know?
ME: Uh...this is Kevin...from the blog.
ANTHONY: Shut the f**k up.
ME: I would but, I was going to ask you if you wanted to hang out sometime.
ANTHONY: Are you for real?
ME: Oh, I'm...mad for real.
ANTHONY: No shit! What's good, man?

Did I just say 'mad for real'?

ANTHONY: Cool, cool. Where you wanna go?

We made tentative plans, but as soon as I got off the phone I went back to his e-mail to see if I could spot whether or not I'd just agreed to go out with someone straight out of Compton.

NICK: You're going out on a date with a wannabe?
ME: Of course I am.

Nick had agreed to hang out with me at Starbucks before the date after some discoveries I made on myspace about Anthony.

Anthony is 25 from North Attleboro, Mass. All of his myspace photos show him in a wifebeater and a backwards baseball cap--wait, sorry, that's not true. One of his photos shows him with the cap turned forwards--maybe to spice things up.

His tagline is "If You Ain't Busy Living..." Then you're busy being gay? Loving Judy? What are you busy doing when you're from NORTH ATTLEBORO?

NICK: Not busy dying, that's for damn sure.
ME: Unless you're dying of boredom.
NICK: Don't hate the North Attleboro...uh...ites.
ME: I'm not, it's just...This guy seemed so normal.
NICK: Maybe he is. Give him a chance.
ME: That chance went out the window with 'What's good?'
NICK: So why not just call it off? I'll give you a ride back home.
ME: Because I've never dated someone with...that type of personality. And I don't know, it might be interesting.
NICK: Kevin, you dated me.
ME: Yeah, but you don't do that whole--
NICK: That whole what? The poser 'black' thing?
ME: No, you just don't say 'What's good?'
NICK: If I ever say 'What's good?' admit me somewhere with beige walls.

Nick took off and Anthony showed up about ten minutes later. He had on a turtleneck, and for a second I thought maybe I had misjudged him.

Then he spoke.

ANTHONY: How's your boy, baby?
ME: Um, I don't have a--
ANTHONY: It's cool, it's cool.

The thing is, I'm pretty sure he wasn't even using the right terminology. I might have to call Ludacris and check up on him.

ME: So, do you want to eat dinner or--
ANTHONY: Nah, we got a party to go to.
ME: A party, huh? Whose party?
ANTHONY: A boy of mine's. Southside. Let's bounce.

Oh Christ...

I thought by southside he meant the south side of Providence, but apparently he meant South County, because we ended up by the beach at a party full of not-so-pretty-fly white guys.

ANTHONY: Ah shit.
ME: What is it? Is there an actual black person here?
ANTHONY: Huh?
ME: Never mind.
ANTHONY: This guy who stole my last boyfriend is here.
ME: Is there like a whole white ghetto gay underground that I don't know about?
ANTHONY: We might have to tussle, just so you know.
ME: You tussle. I'm going to find some potato salad.

I went inside to try and get ahold of one of my friends to let them know I was in Little Compton, not the famous one--when the phone rang.

ME: Hello?
JESSE: Hey hot stuff, what are you up to?
ME: I'm making a shank.
JESSE: I'm sorry?

I was crouched in the corner of this lovely kitchen when two boys walked in.

BOY #1: Yo, you Tony's bitch for the night?
ME: Um, I'm his date, yes.
BOY #1: You should get with a real man. Someone who can service that ass.
ME: Oh, don't worry. I just changed the oil last week.
JESSE: Kevin?
BOY #1: I'll be around if you change your mind.
BOY #2: Yeah, we'll both be around.

Then they high-fived and left.

JESSE: You there?
ME: I think I'm in a parallel universe.
JESSE: You're in Connecticut?
ME: Pretty much. Want to come rescue me?
JESSE: Sure, just give me directions.

Luckily, I had a good enough idea of where we were, and when it got too specific I asked one of the girls hanging out by the refrigerator to help out.

Anthony appeared shortly after I got off the phone with Jesse.

ME: Hey Anthony, I think I'm going to leave soon.
ANTHONY: You bouncing already?
ME: Yeah, I think I've got...something...stomach bug, or...whatever.
ANTHONY: That sucks, man. Hey, is this because Reg has been hitting on you? Cause he told me he's been giving you a hard time. I need to knock that bitch's lights out.
ME: Oh, don't do that on account of me.

Just then, Reg walked in.

REG: You talkin' shit, Tony?
ANTHONY: F**k yeah, I'm talking s**t. Stay the f**k away from my boy, Reg.
REG: Why? You afraid he's going to leave you for a real man?

Okay, anyone want to tell me when I stepped into a John Singleton film and why I'm playing the role of a white Nia Long?

Anthony picked up a bowl of chips and flung it at Reg. Reg ducked and came at Anthony. I was going to get between the two of them but on the off-chance either one had a butter knife in their pocket I didn't feel like getting cut. I ran out of the house and up the road until Jesse called me to tell me he was nearby. On the way back to Providence, I filled him in on the situation.

JESSE: Wow, you were almost killed...except not at all.
ME: Hey, things were getting crazy.
JESSE: Yeah, Lays were being thrown. That shit is crazy.
ME: All right, I get the point.

I was in a bad mood. All this dating, and I was still going on trainwrecks like that. I think Jesse picked up on my sulking.

JESSE: Want to play a fun game?
ME: Does it involve assisted suicide?
JESSE: No.
ME: Ben and Jerry's?
JESSE: Later, but not in the game.
ME: Tell me about it anyway.

JESSE'S EXPLANATION OF CAR KARAOKE: You pull up next to someone and blair a song out of your radio. The goal is to get the person in the car next to you to sing along to the song instead of just looking at you like you're crazy. You're not allowed to pick your song. That honor goes to someone else in the car.

JESSE: You can pick a song for me. I got my IPOD right there.

I went into the album marked "Embarrassing" and found the perfect song.

I'm going to make a change
For once in my life

JESSE: You did not just pick 'Man in the Mirror.'
ME: Hey, it was on your IPOD.
JESSE: Fine. Watch how it's done.

He pulled up to a car that had a twenty-something couple in it. The boy looked rather sullen but the girl was laughing about something. Jesse rolled the windows in the car down and pumped the volume up as loud as it would go.

The guy looked mad, but the girl just laughed, and after a second she was bouncing around and singing along with Jesse...

I'm starting with the man in the mirror
I'm asking him to change his ways

JESSE: Points for me. Your turn.
ME: Be gentle. I've had a rough night.
JESSE: Fine.
ME: And no Vanilla Ice.

A minute later we pulled up to a car full of what looked like teenage girls on their way to the club. I sang at the top of my lungs.

Hey, go big or go home, right?

Pour some sugar on me!
In the name of love
Pour some sugar on me!

Those girls had a four-part harmony by the time the light turned green.

Jesse and I laughed all the way back to my place. Before I got out of the car, I gave him a big hug.

ME: Thank you so much for coming to get me.
JESSE: Anytime.

We looked at each other for a second longer than we should have, but by then we were already kissing. I tried to forget that this was semi-Romeo/Juliet since he was still Allan's roommate, but another part of me only cared about kissing him...Okay, almost all of me only cared about kissing him.

FRIEND: Giggity giggity.
ME: It stopped with kissing.
FRIEND: Of course it did, because you don't value ratings.
ME: Because I value a potential connection with someone.
FRIEND: So you think this could be the one?
ME: He's at least 'a' one, which is fine with me.
FRIEND: Oooh, and we could have some sparks with the hoo hah.
ME: You mean Allan?
FRIEND: Yeah, that queen.
ME: There might be more sparks than that actually...

Just as I was about to head to bed, my phone rang. I thought it was Jesse being cute and calling to say he'd gotten home okay and such.

But that would be too easy.

CHARLIE: Hey, it's Charlie.
ME: Hey.
CHARLIE: Um, do you feel like coming over?

Well, this was bound to happen.

Date #92: Allan and the Alabama Assholes

2007-06-11T14:09:00.000-07:00

I'm sure this has happened to everyone.

You're at a club and you notice a really hot guy with a group of--what you assume to be--his friends. There's usually a mix amongst the friends of hot, not-so-hot, and really not-so-hot. And undoubtedly the not-so-hot guy is always three things:

1) He's incredibly cocky.
2) He's all over the hot guy.
3) He's making sure nobody else is all over the hot guy or anywhere near the rest of his group.

It's almost strategic. The group shows up together, they drink together, they dance together--they form a United Front, if you will. The problem is everyone in the club is wondering the same thing:

Why would the hot guy hang around the cocky troll?

Having been a member of that group--granted, not the hot member, but still a member, let me explain it.

ME: The not-so-hot guy is usually the one pulling all the strings.
BRIAN: But why do the hot guys let that happen?

Brian and I were going over this little social situation at the N.C.

ME: Because usually the hot guys are messed up in some way.
BRIAN: Just like all hot guys.
ME: Pretty much.
BRIAN: So why can't we find a hot guy to push around?
ME: Because I don't think you should live your life pushing around someone more attractive than you just to make other people jealous.
BRIAN: Kevin, I live my whole life to make other people jealous.

We got around to this topic because of my confrontation with Allan. I guess I'm going to have to backtrack a little...

After I left a message on his answering machine, Allan called while I was at work the next day and offered to meet me at his place on the east side. Of course, it was that day that my entire head became congested and it seemed like my entire body was aching. Now I was going into battle a weakened man.

Part of me wanted to bring back up, and once I got there it seemed like an even better idea since the person who opened the door to his apartment was not Allan, but rather, a cute little Portuguese boy in a wet bathing suit.

CPB (Cute Portuguese Boy): Hi!

I detected an adorable Southern accent right away, but I was also immediately disgusted. The kid looked like he was about seventeen.

I see Allan's reached the age where he now employs houseboys. I wonder if he'll step out of some back room in a kimono and order little Opie here to bring us cocktails.

ME: Hi, is Allan around?
CPB: He'll be back. He ran to the store. Won't you come in?

I did. The apartment was very nice. Allan always did have good taste in just about everything. He believed in nice clothes, nice cars, cute friends--the works.

ME: I'm Kevin, by the way.
CPB: Oh, I know. Allan told me. I'm Jesse.
ME: Allan's--?
CPB/JESSE: His roommate. I just moved up here from Alabama.

An Alabama Slammer--argh, don't think that. He's a kid.

ME: So...you're in a bathing suit.
JESSE: Yeah, I went for a swim at my friend's pool and when you knocked I was in the shower so I just grabbed the swimsuit and put it on so I'd have something to answer the door in. People seem to frown upon answering the door in your birthday suit up here.
ME: As opposed to down there?
JESSE: Down where I'm from I make it a habit of answering the door naked.
ME: You must get a lot of gentlemen callers.
JESSE: From Blue Mountain? Tons.

Wow, he picked up a Glass Menagerie reference--and a rather loose one at that.

JESSE: I'll be out of your hair for tonight. I just need to get changed.

He went into his bedroom and I sat down on the couch. After a few minutes, he reappeared wearing a rather tight pair of a jeans and a cute little t-shirt. Everything about him was just...cute.

JESSE: Are you two planning to talk long?
ME: Well, I'm not.

My goal was to say what I needed to say and then get out of there. I had a date later that night that I was meeting for a drink (Sprite for me) at the new third floor of a local club. The atmosphere was laid back enough to have an actual conversation in, which was nice. Turner and Nick were going to meet me there in case the date didn't go well. Truthfully, I should have canceled the whole thing since I didn't feel well, but the dating must go on.

JESSE: Don't take this the wrong way, but you look a little piqued.
ME: I'm not feeling all that well.
JESSE: Can I get you something? Tylenol? Juice? Booze?
ME: Booze?
JESSE: My mother's favorite remedy.
ME: I'll pass, thanks.
JESSE: Aw, you're an abstainer. That's so neat.
ME: Neat? Did you just call me neat?
JESSE Neat is fantastic. You never meet neat people anymore.
ME: I'll give you that one.

Just then the door opened and Allan walked in. He saw me. I stood. It was something like two old friends and two people about to duel.

ME: Hi Allan.
ALLAN: Hello Kevin.

Jesse could probably sense the tension in the room. He grabbed a set of keys off the table near the door and made his exit.

JESSE: I'll see you at the club tonight, Allan.

With my luck, it was probably the same club I was meeting my date at.

JESSE: It was really neat meeting you, Kevin.
ME: It was neat meeting you too, Jesse.

The door shut. And then there were two.

I'm 18 all over again...

ALLAN: I'm fucking ugly, Kevin. I know it. You don't have to lie to me.
ME: Allan, I don't think that at all.
ALLAN: Then why does nobody like me?
ME: I'm sure lots of guys like you.
ALLAN: And what? They're all just hiding out somewhere? Afraid to show their feelings?

He had me there. We were at his apartment on his couch. Some old movie was playing on the television.

ALLAN: I just...I just wish someone would kiss me. Just for once in my life I wish someone would make me feel like I was worth that.

And I thought...What the hell, right? I mean, he wasn't a bad looking guy at all. Just compared to Travis and Teddy...Well, there really wasn't any comparison.

Still, he shouldn't feel ugly. That just wasn't right. So I leaned over and kissed him.

I meant to kiss him for a second, but he pulled me into him and before I knew it he was taking my shirt off...I pulled back and jumped off the couch.

ME: What are you doing?
ALLAN: You kissed me.
ME: You said you wanted someone to kiss you!
ALLAN: So what? That was a pity kiss?
ME: I didn't--I just wanted to--

He got up off the couch and looked at me with utter contempt.

ALLAN: What a fucking cocktease.

And with that, he went into his bedroom.

I remember sitting back down on the couch and watching the movie for another twenty minutes. That look...that look just tore right through you. You had value, and then all of a sudden...you didn't.

But that was when I was 18...

...And I'm all grown up now.

ALLAN: So I guess I thought it about it, and I can't really figure out what it is you think we need to talk about.
ME: It's not so much a talk I want to have. I'd just like to comment.
ALLAN: Comment? Go ahead.
ME: You're a fucking asshole.
ALLAN: Wow, quite a comment. Are we done?
ME: No. You're a fucking asshole who took advantage of an 18-year-old and I wonder, how does that make you feel?
ALLAN: I never took advantage of you. If I recall, you're the one who tried attacking me in my living room one night--
ME: After your little boo hoo hoo sob story about how you're so goddammed ugly. P.S, I probably should have just agreed with you.
ALLAN: I didn't have much self-esteem back then.
ME: Is that what you did? Used to your insecurities as a weapon?
ALLAN: No, that was always your best trick, Kevin.
ME: Fuck off.
ALLAN: Gladly.

He opened the door to his apartment.

ALLAN: I'd love to keep going with this--
ME: Oh, I don't need to. I've just wanted to tell you what I've thought of you for years.
ALLAN: Mission accomplished. I'm sure I'll see you around town.
ME: You'll see me tonight most likely.
ALLAN: Terrific. Just do me a favor and try not to bring down the overall look of the club with your rather bland appearance.

I walked out thinking...You're going to eat those f**king words, d**khead.

What can I say? I was mad.

When I arrived at the club, nobody was there to meet me.

Actually, that's not entirely true. Jesse was there with these two incredibly snotty-looking cavemen. He waved to me and walked over. The cavemen stayed where they were.

JESSE: We meet again.
ME: It must be fate.
JESSE: Must be. How'd things go with Allan?
ME: About as good as I expected.
JESSE: That good, huh?
ME: Did he fill you in on our history at all?
JESSE: Yeah, but I kinda took it with a grain of salt. Otherwise, I'd be throwing holy water at you right now.

Sounds about right.

JESSE: So are you meeting someone here?
ME: Yeah, I'm actually meeting a date here.

It was then that I realized I was ten minutes late and my date still wasn't here. I checked my phone and it turned out that my date had sent me a text letting me know he wasn't feeling well and that we'd have to take a rain check.

Well, that was all right. I wasn't feeling too hot either, and now I had an excuse to leave.

ME: I guess I've been stood up. I'm probably just going to go home.

But just then, Nick and Turner appeared, and they wouldn't take my leaving for an answer. Neither would Jesse, actually.

JESSE: You should stay. That way you can owe me a dance for later. I got to get back to my friends though. They're in from Alabama and I promised to get them laid while they were in town.

I looked over and one of the cavemen seemed to tsk and then turn away from me.

ME: Good luck with that.

Jesse smiled at me.

JESSE: I might not have the best taste in friends, but at least I've done a decent job when it comes to picking boyfriends. I haven't dated a jerk yet.
NICK: And how many guys have you dated total?
JESSE: Oh, just the one. But I'm very optimistic for the future.

With that, he winked and walked away.

TURNER: What a little Southern dandy.
ME: I know.
NICK: He seemed to like you.
ME: Don't even suggest it. He's Allan's roommate.
TURNER: How did that go?
ME: It went all right. I feel much better now that I've said what I needed to say. Of course, I'm still sneezing every minute and my head feels like it's going to explode on top of the fact that I just got stood up but other than all that, things are great.
NICK: You should go ask the dandy to dance.
ME: Absolutely not.
TURNER: It would probably get right under Allan's skin.

He was right. But I didn't want to drag an innocent person into the War of Kevin and Allan.

NICK: He asked for a dance. I'm just saying go take him up on his offer.

I looked across the bar at Jesse. What I saw was that Allan had now shown up and he was already forming his Fortress of Solitude. No way was I getting anywhere near Jesse tonight.

TURNER: Wow, they almost look like that wall of shields the army makes when its under attack.
ME: He's perfected it over the years. Back when I was the fresh meat in his group you would have had to hire the F.B.I. to get me out of that little cage of gays.
NICK: My father worked for the F.B.I. actually.
ME: Shut up, did he?
NICK: Yup. I bet I can penetrate that little cage.
TURNER: What do you say, Kevin? You want to let him give it a shot?
ME: Hey, I'm always down for a good penetration.

Awkward silence.

ME: I'm kidding. I was just...poor choice of words...I'm sick, people! Cut me some slack!

Nick put his plan into action almost immediately. He walked over to the bar and instructed the bartender to buy a drink for for Caveman #1. Then he walked back over to our table while the drink was delivered.

You could tell that Caveman #1 had never had someone buy him a drink before, because his eyes lit up like a Broadway marquee and he instantly stopped shooting nasty looks over at our table. Nick waved at him a little and he waved back, which sent Allan into a tizzy. The two of them seemed to argue back and forth, and then Caveman #1 came over bringing Caveman #2 with him.

CAVEMAN #1: Hey, thanks for the drink.
NICK: No problem. I'm sure you get that all the time.
CAVEMAN #2: Him, please?
CAVEMAN #1: Shut up, Matt!

Turner now played his part and addressed Caveman #2.

TURNER: And who's buying you drinks, Matt?

Caveman #2 melted before Turner finished the question.

CAVEMAN #2: You're free to do so if you like.
TURNER: Oh, I would definitely like to.
NICK: Let's all go downstairs and dance a little first.
TURNER: You boys want to dance?

They nodded vigorously and pretty soon I was upstairs by myself watching Allan have a firm discussion with Jesse. After a few minutes, Jesse walked over to me and Allan disappeared downstairs.

JESSE: That was a funny little trick you pulled.
ME: Actually I didn't pull it. My friends did.
JESSE: Your friends are pretty sly.
ME: No, they're not. I just think your friends are pretty stupid.
JESSE: Also a good possibility.

We talked and talked, and pretty soon I forgot that I was talking to Allan's roommate who I should be avoiding like the plague.

JESSE: So it looks like I might have ended up being your date tonight, huh?
ME: I don't mind, but I'd imagine you're in big trouble right now.
JESSE: I'm only staying with Allan temporarily until I find my own place. I just moved in with him after I saw a posting on craigslist.
ME: It's too bad you didn't get lucky and move in with a serial killer.
JESSE: Hey now, he's always been nice to me...But he is a little controlling at times. I don't like being forbidden to do anything.
ME: He forbid you to talk to me?
JESSE: Oh, he forbid me to even look in your direction.
ME: I guess it's kind of sad that we still hate each other this much after all these years.
JESSE: You must have hurt each other pretty bad.

Nobody's ever going to want you...You're such a cocktease...I don't like you that way, Allan...He's not even half as cute as Teddy or Travis...

ME: I think it's safe to say we both did our fair share.

Two seconds later I went into a coughing fit, and it was then that I decided to take off. Jesse walked me downstairs where I said good-bye to Turner and Nick, who were still dancing with the Cavemen and shooting me two "You owe us big" looks.

I saw Allan sitting at the far end of the bar downstairs having a drink by himself. He looked so old to me now, even though we were still only a couple of years apart. He'd valued all the wrong things and hurt everyone who ever cared about him--and I'd done a lot of both, too.

Looking at him, I felt bad. I felt like he had become what all of us fear and what so many of us come so close to experiencing--being alone, truly alone.

FRIEND: And then you walked over and kicked the stool out from underneath him, right?
ME: No, I was going for a moment of clarity there.
FRIEND: F**k clarity. What about revenge?
ME: Believe me, if you could have seen him, you would have seen that life's getting its own revenge.
FRIEND: Funny how somehow who tries to keep his friends close and everyone else shut out ends up just shutting out all his friends anyway.
ME: Excellent observation.
FRIEND: The new guy I'm f**king subscribes to Psychology Today.

As sick as I was feeling, I couldn't drive away from the club that night. Instead I drove to a CVS, bought a little notepad, and wrote down the following.

Dear Allan,

We both screwed up. We'll never be best friends, but we can at least stop hating each other for our own sakes. I'm a different person now than I was then, and I'm sure you are, too. So why can't we put those two people to rest and just move from it all?

I hope we can.

Kevin

I left the letter in his mailbox and drove off. The funny thing is, as soon as I did it, my head seemed to clear up, and I felt much, much better.

Date #91: What If...

2007-06-06T14:13:00.000-07:00

Hey Kev, you hungry?

I got out my face. That face I plan on using if I ever lose an Emmy Award. It's the "I'm not surprised or unhappy about this at all" face.

I slapped that face on and said--

"Hey Paye, how's it going?"

What if...I was standing in this kitchen right now?

TURNER: Do not use butter for the scrambled eggs. Use vegetable oil.
ME: Vegetable oil gives it that funny taste.

I'm cooking breakfast at midnight with Turner. He's walking around in his boxers and a t-shirt that says "Save the Planet for Captain Planet."

I'm wearing a t-shirt that says "Go Big or Go Home" (borrowed from him) and sweatpants.

TURNER: You know some people actually eat meals aside from breakfast.
ME: And what meal would that be at midnight?

He kisses me on the cheek and I pull him in front of me so that I can wrap my arms around him.

TURNER: You making pancakes too?
ME: Of course I'm making pancakes. What would a midnight breakfast be without pancakes?
TURNER: Don't forget we're going to my Mom's tomorrow for her birthday.
ME: We're taking her to that seafood place where your Dad complains about the prices?
TURNER: You know it.
ME: Fun stuff.

He turns around and wraps his arms around my neck while the eggs form little perfect scrambled groupings in the pan.

TURNER: You love me?
ME: Like whoa.
TURNER: Like whoa, huh?
ME: Like major whoa.

I kiss him and...

PAYE: Kev?

...I'm back in the kitchen.

ME: Um, could I have a drink of water?

Turner gets me my drink, while Paye excuses himself to use the bathroom. I sit at the kitchen table.

TURNER: You're upset, aren't you?
ME: Why would I be upset? I have no right to be upset.
TURNER: I know, but you're still upset. You're doing the face.
ME: What face?
TURNER: The 'I just lost my third Daytime Emmy' face.
ME: Dammit, I forgot I told you about that.

Turner leans over and looks me square in the eye.

TURNER: I didn't plan for this. I really didn't.
ME: It's okay, Turner. I'm just a little--
TURNER: I am, too. Paye and I--it just happened, but now...I don't know. I just feel so good with him. Like...safe, nice--I know it's really soon after Gary, but--
ME: Hey, whatever makes you happy--makes me happy. Honestly.
TURNER: You don't hate me? I was going to tell you, but I was just--

I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

ME: You're one of my best friends in the world. I could never hate you.
TURNER: Wow, where's the overreactor I've come to know and love?
ME: He's starting to wonder what his life would be like if he had made certain...different...choices.

What if...

I'm having lunch with my boyfriend, Brian, at the N.C. We're trying to make it quick since we have a party to get to later that night.

BRIAN: So the sex last night wasn't disappointing?
ME: Brian--
BRIAN: I'm just asking.
ME: It was fine.
BRIAN: I don't want our sex to be fine. I want to be earth-shaking.
ME: We've been together for almost a year. You can't expect it to still be earth-shaking.
BRIAN: So what--if we're together for six years it'll become less earth-shaking with each passing year?
ME: I don't know. I've never been with anyone for six years before, so I couldn't tell you.
BRIAN: This is a stupid argument to be having, isn't it?
ME: Yes, it is, because I love you, I think you're the sexiest man on the planet, and any time I get to see you naked is utterly earth-shaking for me.

He smiles and steals a piece of chicken off my plate.

BRIAN: You love me, huh?
ME: More than my luggage.
BRIAN: You're ridiculous.
ME: I know, I know.

He leans across the table to kiss me and--

BRIAN: --And anyone I think they might be very good for each other.
ME: What?
BRIAN: Paye and Turner. I think they could be very good for each other.
ME: I agree.
BRIAN: That's it?
ME: Huh?
BRIAN: No catty comments. No predictions of disaster.
ME: I don't have the strength to predict disaster anymore.

He picks a piece of chicken off my plate.

BRIAN: Don't make it a habit. I don't want to be left on a catty limb all by myself.
ME: No worries. I'm not planning on reforming my bitchy ways. I've just been thinking about choices lately.
BRIAN: Choices?
ME: Yeah, choices. I've been on ninety dates in a little under a year. Tonight will be ninety-one. Should I have done something different along the way? Should I have tried harder with certain guys? Have I passed up anyone worthwhile?
BRIAN: You can't change the past, Kevin.
ME: I know, but you also can't help but think about it from time to time.

My date that night was going to be with this guy Wes. We'd met while I was in college, but had only just recently managed to recconnect. We were going out for dinner but I felt like my mind wasn't in the right place.

WES: So how's post-college life treating you?
ME: It's good so far. Definitely a transistional period.
WES: Do you date a lot around here?
ME: Define 'a lot.'

He laughed. Behind him I could see Charlie shaking his head.

CHARLIE: Do you actually think anything's going to come from this date?
ME: I don't know. I only expected a hookup from you and look where that went.
CHARLIE: Everyone always wants to know what happened to me.

That I don't understand. Nobody ever wondered what happened to all those girls Zach dated on Saved by the Bell and never talked to again. Do you realize that at one point Zach dated a bling girl and a girl in a wheelchair on that show, had these long, tearful monologues about how he didn't care that they were blind or disabled because he'd love them anyway, and then the next episode came and they were nowhere to be found.

And yet I don't mention Charlie for awhile and everyone gets on my case.

CHARLIE: That's because they could tell I was special.
ME: You were special but it just didn't work out.
CHARLIE: Because I wanted a relationship.
ME: No, you wanted a marriage. There's a difference.
CHARLIE: You didn't want to commit.
ME: Why do you think I'm doing all this? Blogging, dating, driving myself crazy--I want a commitment! I want to meet that amazing guy who I'll want to spend years of my life with--maybe my whole life, but I'm not just going to settle for anybody!
CHARLIE: Maybe you need to accept the fact that even if that guy came along, you wouldn't have any room in your life for him to occupy.

With that, he disintegrated back into the far corners of my mind.

WES: Peronally, I find the current political climate very--
ME: I'm sorry, what?
WES: The political climate. I don't know how familiar you are with--
ME: Yes! I mean, I am familiar. Sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off.
WES: It's okay. Do you have any early favorites?
ME: I'm going to go with Edwards. Just because I need a democrat, and I'm not stupid enough to think that Alabama and Arkansas wouldn't just revolt and secede before they'd let themselves be governed by a woman or an African-American.
WES: Wow, you got some cynical views there.
ME: I just say what I think.

...Which is usually what gets me into trouble.

What if...

DWIGHT: I'm so disgusted right now.
ME: We in agreement on that.

Dwight and I are watching the Republican debates.

DWIGHT: All these people who supported the war and the administration are just turning with the tide to get a few extra votes.
ME: It'll be more than a few extra votes, honey. Nobody is going to win an election this year saying that the war was anything but a mistake.

I get up to make some more popcorn. Dwight follows me to the microwave.

DWIGHT: Is it so wrong that I still want to believe in my President? That I need to trust that a few years ago everyone wasn't standing behind something simply because they though that was what their constituents wanted?
ME: Well isn't that their job? To do what their constituents want them to do?
DWIGHT: Not if it's the wrong thing to do!
ME: It's hard to determine what the right and wrong things are nowadays, Dwight.

He leans against the counter looking glum. I press the "Start" button on the microwave and give him a kiss.

DWIGHT: You realize you're actually defending Republicans just to cheer me up, right?
ME: I do what I can.
DWIGHT: I love you.
ME: I love you, too.

Back in the real world, the political conversation had just ended before we arrived at Wes' place.

WES: Can I get you anything? I know you don't drink, but--
ME: Sprite would be great if you have it.
WES: I have it indeed.

He disappeared into his kitchen.

SCOOTER: He seems all right to me.
ME: He'd make a better boyfriend than you would, that's for sure.
SCOOTER: Why? Because I'm oversexed? Because I burp the alphabet? Because--
ME: Either of the first two would have been fine.
SCOOTER: But you and I have something that you can't just create.
ME: Which would be--?
SCOOTER: Chemistry. We have major chemistry.
ME: Chemistry is something the destructive part of our minds create to draw us towards people who aren't any good for us.
SCOOTER: I seem to remember us being very good for each other in certain areas--
ME: We're not having this discussion in the living room of the boy I'm on a date with, Scooter.
SCOOTER: You're the one whose imagining this conversation, Broccoli.
ME: I'm just wishing I was sitting in the living room of someone I've been dating for ten months now instead of sitting here at the starting line for what seems like the millionth time. That's what I hate when something doesn't work out, you know? Back to the starting line. It just feels like you're always building this thing that's never going to be finished and you're not even building it for anyone. It just disappears every day and you have to start all over again.
SCOOTER: Wow...That is fucking depressing as hell.

Good to know Imaginary Scooter is just as sensitive as Real Scooter.

WES: So, Kev, what do you do for fun?
ME: I hunt kittens in the forest.
WES: Is that so?
ME: No, I just wanted to answer that question once without saying 'theater, reading, movies.'
WES: I like theater, reading, and movies.
ME: Most people do. My favorite is when people say 'I'm into music.' I mean, isn't everyone into music? Who doesn't like some kind of music?
WES: Honestly, music really isn't that big a deal to me.

What if...

I'm at the karaoke bar on my birthday--my 23rd birthday. All the regulars are there.

SCOOTER: Just think. Today would have been the day you finished the blog.
ME: God, can you imagine me still writing that thing? How many dates can you possibly go on in this town? You'd run out of guys.
TURNER: I thought it was a neat idea. It would have been cool to have seen you carry it out.
ME: Well thank God it didn't take me 100 dates to find Nick. I probably would have checked myself into an institution if it took a year to find a decent guy.
BRIAN: At least you were less of a prick when you weren't happily taken.
TURNER: Brian!
ME: It's okay. I know not everyone likes hanging around someone whose content in their life. I hope you find that kind of joy one day, Brian.
DWIGHT: Here's hoping we all find that kind of joy.

We hear silence as Nick approaches the mic.

NICK: This is for my amazing boyfriend on his birthday. I love you, babe.

I mouth the words "I love you, too" and he starts to sing.

I would give up everything
Before I'd separate myself from you
After so much suffering
I finally found unvarnished truth

DWIGHT: Kevin, do you want more Sprite?
ME: Huh?

And then--

WES: Sprite? Do you want more?
ME: Oh, um, no actually. I think I should be going. I have an early day tomorrow.
WES: All right. Well, I'll walk you down.
ME: Okay.

Thank God I found you
I was lost without you
My every wish and every dream
Somehow became reality

Once we reached my car outside, Wes gave me a hug and then took a step back from me.

WES: You seem like you're going through some rough stuff, Kev.
ME: Not rough, really. Just...Wes, do you ever worry about being alone?
WES: I wish I could say 'Yes,' but I have my friends, my family--
ME: I know, but...At night, right before you go to sleep--do you ever turn over and just wish someone was there. Someone you could look at and kiss on the forehead? Someone willing to be the bookends to your day?
WES: I think everyone wishes for that.
ME: I just wonder if I'm going about finding it the right way.
WES: You know the best way to get someone to sleep next to you?
ME: What?
WES: Offer to take them out on a second date.

I laughed.

ME: You're kind of a ho-bag, ain't ya?
WES: Mmm, just make sure you're a little more present the next time around, okay?
ME: Deal.

I got in my car and began the drive home alone with my thoughts.

FRIEND: You have officially skated over in Crazy Town.
ME: There's nothing crazy about wondering what might have been.
FRIEND: When you got figments of your imagination serenading you with Mariah and Joe, you're crazy. End of story.
ME: I have nine more dates left. Nine.
FRIEND: So make 'em count instead of bitching about how many of them there are.
ME: First I need to straighten out a problem in my past.
FRIEND: Don't even tell me you're finally going to come out to your grandparents, because that is one very special entry I don't need to be a part of, okay?
ME: Don't worry. It's a little more complicated than that.

When I got home I had to do a little digging to find the phone number I wanted, but once I did, it still took me two hours to muster up the courage to make the call.

ME: Hi Allan, this is Kevin Broccoli...

Kevin, sweetie, you can only date for so long before it all just seems so...pointless.

...I believe we have some things to talk about.

Date #90: Kind and Direct

2007-06-04T15:14:00.000-07:00

So here's something I will never understand.

Your friend is about to make a huge mistake. Perhaps even colossal. And what do you say?

That's great! I'm so happy for you! Everything's going to turn out just the way you want it to!

I know, it looks dumb to me, too.

Perhaps I should put it in some context.

I went out on a date with a guy named Henry. The date was an absolutely trainwreck. A travesty. A Bratz! feature length film--you get the idea.

We had barely anything to talk about at all. He was awkward, made horrendous jokes, and seemed to only want to talk about his past relationships.

After I got home, I went online and found that he had already IMed me to say what a great time he had. Perfect, I thought, now I can't even get away with not calling him because he knows it was just as much of a disaster as I do--he thinks we had a great time.

I was about to message him a long explanation of all the reasons we shouldn't try going out on a date again--actually, the list didn't need to be that long--when I noticed he had a link in his profile to his livejournal account. I clicked on it.

For those of you not up to date with livejournal, it's one of those things you're semi-embarrassed to be a part of yet you check it constantly and update whenever you're bored. I think of it as a nice way to keep in touch with people--but mostly I read it and think--

Are these people crazy?

Henry was no exception. As a matter of fact, Henry had a very clear problem as far as I could discern from his livejournal--he was into making the same mistakes over and over again, particularly with guys.

(Keep in mind when you're reading these that this guy in his mid-twenties; I have not started dating pre-teens.)

Hey Everybody,

I just met this awesome guy and we're going to be so happy together, I can already tell. He's supercute and sooo sweet to me!!! Can't wait for all of you to meet him ;o)

Henry

Hey Everybody,

Things with that guy didn't work out. I feel like I'm so ugly and dumb. Booo!!! I hate myself right now. Why do I screw everything up? I think I might have called him too much, but I just liked him so much, ya know? Oh well. Maybe I'll never be happy.

Herny

Hi Hi Hi!

This amazing guy came into where I work today and gave me his number! I am going crazy because I want to call him so bad but I think maybe I should wait until tomorrow. I don't know what to do! Help you guys!!! Hahaha Just kidding. I already called him a couple times and we're going to hang out soon. He's so cute!

Henry

I hate my life so much right now. That guy hasn't returned my calls. I guess some things are too good to be true.

Henry

Yo what's up homeboys and girls? Hahaha--cause I'm so ghetto right?

Met the man of my dreams today. For real, this guy is THE ONE!!! We both like a lot of the same stuff, and I know that it's only been a few days since Tyson stopped calling me, but I really think the best for me is get right back on the horse. You can't turn down love, ya know?

Henry

I should just kill myself.

Henry

It goes on and on like this for a good--oh, I'd say as long as he's had this journal. What scares me isn't what he writes--it's a livejournal, you're allowed to be emotional, and stupid, and whatever as much as you want. What scares me is that there are clear self-destructive patterns going on in this kid's life, and what do his friends have to say about it?

COMMENT: Henry! I love you so much! I'm so happy for you! I'm sure this guy is perfect and you two are going to be so cute together. Can't wait to meet him!

COMMENT: Henry, that guy is just an asshole. You deserve so much better! Forget him. So what if you called too much? He's going to stop talking to you because you care??? That's crazy.

COMMENT: Henry, you are the sweetest guy I know! You'll find love.

COMMENT: Henry, this guys sounds like he's the real deal. Good job, kiddo!

COMMENT: Poor baby! Why are guys such jerks?

ME: Are these guys absolutely crazy?
BRIAN: Don't ask me if people who actually use a livejournal are crazy, because you know what my answer will be.

I was kvetching with Brian at the N.C. I just wanted to know if these people were being good, helpful friends by encouraging this guy's delusions, or if they would be better friends by just telling him to give himself a breather in between each awful date and learn how to actually talk to people.

BRIAN: You can tell you were raised in an Italian household.
ME: How?
BRIAN: Because you equate love with yelling at someone.
ME: So you think they're right?
BRIAN: I think they're trying to be supportive.
ME: And you don't think they're enabling him?
BRIAN: How is this enabling?
ME: Because support is only support if it helps you to a better place. He's not getting anywhere by having all these people feed him this bullshit.
BRIAN: Kevin, I realize you have no tolerance for social civility--
ME: Brian--
BRIAN: --But some people survive on it. Hopefully this kid has a friend who does tell him the honest truth when he screws up, that's what you are to me.

That was actually very sweet of him to say, I thought. I decided to end my rant and move on to more important topics.

ME: So, about the barbeque--
BRIAN: Nope.
ME: Nope?
BRIAN: Nope.
ME: Nope what?
BRIAN: No, I am not going to tell you who hooked up at the party.
ME: Why not?
BRIAN: Because they asked us all not to.
ME: Asked who all not to?
BRIAN: The two people who...got together...asked all of us not to tell you.
ME: Why not?
BRIAN: Because of the unending support they believe you'd give them if you found out.

Are you f**king kidding me?

ME: Are you one of these two people?
BRIAN: If I was, I wouldn't tell you.
ME: How can you all feel that way?
BRIAN: Kevin, you're not exactly--
ME: I know, I can be judgey, but I'm getting better at that. Besides, if you're not ashamed--
BRIAN: Don't give me that 'if you're not ashamed of what you've done' speech. Just because someone's not ashamed that they did something doesn't mean they want to hear anything about it after the fact.
ME: Terrific. What if I promise not to say anything?
BRIAN: You'll say it with your eyes.
ME: So now I'm a flamenco dancer?
BRIAN: What?
ME: They say things with their--never mind.

I would have just let it drop there, but you, my readers, have a right to know who hooked up. So I did what I did--for you.

...Yeah, let's go with that.

ME: Hi Turner, what's--
TURNER: I'm not telling you.

ME: Dwight, it's me and I--
DWIGHT: Forget it, Kevin.

ME: Nick, I was just wondering--
NICK: Nice try, Broccoli.

ME: Scooter, I'll--
SCOOTER: Ashton Kutcher?
ME: Good night, Scooter.

Well, so much for that.

To make things even better, I got a second date request from Henry.

I decided to try and help the guy out--in a sensitive, supportive, yet helpful manner.

I told him that I would not like to go out on a second date, but would it be okay if we just went and got coffee as friends? He said sure, but I could tell he was a little upset by my conditions.

We went to a little coffee place on the east side and had a talk, and I tried to be as honest and yet, as kind, as possible.

ME: Henry, you're a good guy.
(What? He is a good guy. We all have problems.)
HENRY: If I'm a good guy, then why didn't you want to have a second date?
ME: Honestly, I just don't think we click. It's not anything that's the matter with you, it's something that's just there or it isn't, and it's nobody's fault if it isn't.
(After all, everybody loves somebody sometime, right?)
HENRY: This happens to me all the time.
ME: I know.
HENRY: You know?
ME: I read your livejournal.
HENRY: Oh...
ME: I'm sorry if that was an invasion of your privacy or anything.
HENRY: No, it's cool. Now you can see what I mean.
ME: Henry, I think I might be able to offer a little help.
HENRY: Really?
ME: Yeah, see...I think maybe you need to give yourself some time in between meeting guys.
HENRY: I don't really...what do you mean?
ME: Well, you jump from one date to the next and you don't really learn anything so you end up making the same mistakes over and over again. You get too clingy, you set your hopes too high, you don't really click with any of these guys but you're just so happy to have someone that you force it.

Henry looked like he was digesting all of this. That's good, I wanted to say. Digest, Henry, digest.

ME: The only reason I'm saying this is because I used to be just like you. I hated dating, and I couldn't understand why. I mean, even bad dates are supposed to be fun on some level--maybe humorous, but even the good ones weren't anything all that special. And then I started this...project...and I learned that what was missing was that I wasn't trying to take anything from the dates I was going on. I was just bouncing from guy to guy--not literally, I'm not a skank--but I guess what I'm trying to say is, give yourself some time to figure out what it is you want, and then you won't go after guys who don't see you for how great you are.

Henry nodded, and then asked the million dollar question.

HENRY: Okay, but--if you learn something from each date you go on...what did you learn from your date with me?

Oh Christ...

Nice monologue, Kevin--guess you forgot that you have to--Oh...

ME: I learned that everybody deserves to know why something didn't work out. The guys who didn't call you back are assholes, Henry. Nobody deserves to just be cut off like that. We're all supposed to be nice to each other and help each other out when we can. I know that makes me sound like a hippie but--
HENRY: It's okay, I like hippies.
ME: Oh...good.

We finished the rest of our coffee in relative silence, but I could tell Henry felt a little bit better that I had talked to him.

Later on that night, after a little detour, I would arrive home and check livejournal just to find that Henry had made a post shortly after he got home.

Hey Everybody

I hung out with Kevin again tonight. He says that he's not interested and that there's nothing between us, but I mean, why would he ask me out again if that was the case? Am I being crazy?

Henry

COMMENT: No way, Henry. If he asked you out, he definitely is just fighting his feelings!

Good to know, I made a lasting impact.

FRIEND: You should have posted a comment of your own. Get on medication--fast!
ME: The goal was to be kind and direct.
FRIEND: The two can't co-exist. Someone either gets hurt or they get mislead. You have to pick which one.
ME: I'd like to think I have a tougher skin than most, but when I was talking to Henry tonight, and I saw how upset he was that yet another guy hadn't worked out--
FRIEND: It reminded you that we're now ten dates away from the finale and you're still up sexless creek on a yacht with no boat boys?
ME: Something like that.
FRIEND: But remember what you said to him, what's important is figuring out what you want.
ME: Yeah, and it sounded good at the time, but now I wonder--do I know what I want?

On my way back home, I decided to call Turner and see if he wanted to hang out for a little bit. I needed some down time after my big talk with Henry. He answered, but only for a second. Then I heard--

VOICE: Just call him back later, I want you to--
TURNER: Ssshh!

And then the call got cut off.

I upped my speed to Turner's apartment, and when I got there I saw a car out front. Unfortunately, I'm awful with remembering what it is people drive, but I was almost positive it didn't belong to Nick, Dwight, Brian or Scooter.

This might not have been the best idea, but I walked right up to Turner's floor and knocked on his door.

I heard noises coming from inside, then the door opened.

TURNER: Hey Kev.
ME: I realize that this is none of my business, but--
TURNER: No, it's okay. You're bound to find out eventually anyway.

He opened the door a little wider and let me see who was in his kitchen making dinner.

ME: Oh...

Hey Kev, you hungry?

Date #89: A Bulls**t Barbeque

2007-06-01T13:48:00.000-07:00

Nobody appreciates a liar more than I do.

I have a degree in English with a focus on Creative Writing, so I truly do admire someone who can look you dead in the eyes and make up a story just for kicks.

I'm one of those rare people who believes that a little exaggeration is fine as long as it doesn't completely mutate a story. If it makes it more fun to tell and listen to, however, go right on ahead and elaborate.

I mean have you ever met someone who was completely direct and relayed everything to you verbatim? They're usually the ones who sit by themselves at a party and talk about their exciting career as a professional golf club salesman.

A lot of the questions I get asked about the blog relate to its accuracy--y'all know this since I've had to deal with it in previous entries, but as far as whether I tell the truth and dress it up a little...

Well...Yeah.

I just add a little bit of style to it. First and foremost, I'm into theater, and as Pinter says "Theater is life without the dull bits." So I cut out what isn't interesting and I make some witty observations (I hope they're witty anyway--I know sometimes it just comes across as me being a dick) and here and there I jazz up the dialogue a little bit, but the main points and the events remain intact.

I bring all this up so that when I tell you about Date #89, you'll understand why I didn't just blow up at this guy the minute I knew he was bullsh***ing me.

I'll admit...I like to play around sometimes.

The date took place at a party--not a dinner party, a barbeque.

Scooter decided to celebrate the beginning of summer with a little get-together at his house--and by little get-together, I mean eighty people, a pool, more drinks (drugged up twinks) and drinks (actual drinks) than Mardi Gras, and a clown...I'm not kidding, a clown.

BRIAN: I can't believe I fell for this.

Brian was the unfortunate sap who believed Scooter when he said the party was going to have a circus theme.

ME: Why would Scooter throw a circus party?
BRIAN: I don't know! He's Scooter! Who knows why he does what he does?
ME: Aw, you can cry if you want to. Everybody loves the tears of a clown.
BRIAN: Fuck off.

Scooter had invited myself, Brian, Turner, Dwight, Nick, and a few more of the notable blog boys. I even saw Paye walking around in a wet bathing suit--not a bad image, let me tell you.

ME: God, I forget how hot he is sometimes.
BRIAN: Aren't you on a date?

I was about to be. Scooter was using the barbeque to set me up with this guy Gerry. I was supposed to be introduced, but something told me I'd have to find him on my own. When I last saw Scooter he was in his kitchen giving tips on good oral using a small bottle of vanilla coke.

Wow, that sentence looks even more messed up in print than it was viewing it, and I didn't that was possible.

As for why the set up was even happening...

Well, Scooter's been really nervous lately--why I don't know--that I won't find my true love in the next twelve dates.

ME: What's the big deal? The blog isn't just about meeting Mr. Right...
SCOOTER: Um--
ME: Okay, maybe it is about meeting Mr. Right, but it's also about self-discovery and being okay with--
SCOOTER: Blabbity, blah blah--if you don't meet your prince by the time this is all over it will have been the most anti-climatic social experiment in history.
ME: No, I'm pretty sure that honor falls to I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here!
SCOOTER: Not to mention how depressing it would be.
ME: It's not like I'm not trying.
SCOOTER: Let me handle this. I'm going to find the perfect guy for you. You might even get to end the blog early.
ME: Now, that would be anti-climatic, wouldn't it?
SCOOTER: No, then you could just spend the rest of the entries talking about all the hot sex you're having.
ME: Then it would be just like your blog, except with one guy instead of hordes.
SCOOTER: The word is 'herds.'
ME: They're interchangeable.
SCOOTER: Huh?
ME: Never mind. Save me a burger.

It actually didn't take too long to find Gerry--since he ended up finding me.

GERRY: Scooter's told me so much about you.
ME: Did any of it include notes about my personality?
GERRY: He mostly said you were 'cool.'
ME: That's it?
GERRY: He also talked about your stomach and how flat it is.
ME: Yup, that sounds like Scooter.
GERRY: No, he was being good...for him. Normally when he describes guys to me the only details I get are whether or not he's cut, his favorite position, and what foods he'll allow you to eat off his naked body.
ME: Well f.y.i, yes, lotus flower, and cheese doodles.
GERRY: He also said I should try and get you to tell me what--
ME: Ashton Kutcher, got it.
GERRY: No, but I am curious what the Topher Grace might be.

Aw, we're semi-bantering.

Things were going really well, but the more we talked, the more things started to take a turn towards the...well, here's an example:

RED FLAG #1: I was actually named after my great-great-grandfather Gerry who fought in World War II. He liberated a P.O.W. camp and that's how he met my grandmother. She was one of the few women to be captured as a P.O.W. because she was a spy trying to infiltrate the German regime.

Uh...okay.

RED FLAG #2: I love to salsa dance. I teach it, actually. I used to compete professionally but the whole sport just got really catty what with Dancing with the Stars and all. As soon as something hits the mainstream like that, it just taints everything about it.

Hmm...

RED FLAG #3: Just between you and me, I dated Shane from Road Rules. We really kept in on the downlow, because he's into some really freaky stuff in the bedroom and he didn't want a lot of it getting out. But he's a cool guy. We don't talk much anymore.

And SCENE!

TURNER: So you're saying he's Liar McDishonesty Pants?
BRIAN: Don't do the 'McPants' thing anymore. You don't do it right.
ME: Yeah, Turner, you're supposed to say things like Brian is an Ass McLoser Pants.

All the boys were in the pool where I headed to after excusing myself from Gerry for a bit. I needed some advice. Truth be told, I didn't mind listening to Gerry's stories--I just wondered if I should play along or call him out on it--and if so, when do I make that call?

DWIGHT: Make it now! The guy's a wackjob.
ME: Just because he likes to elaborate a little doesn't make him a wackjob, Dwight.
NICK: I'd say ask him if he's on Meds, but the psycho would probably just lie about it.
TURNER: Ask him if he's ever slept with John Travolta.
BRIAN: Huh?
TURNER: It might be funny to see what he says.
ME: Turner thinks along the same lines I do.
NICK: Along what lines are those?
ME: I'm thinking maybe I should have a little fun with him.
DWIGHT: You mean like give him enough rope to hang himself with?
ME: No, nothing mean like that. Just...I don't know. It's kind of like, anything goes. I can say whatever I want to this kid and he can't call me out on it because then I would have to call him out.
BRIAN: So you're saying you want to test out your improv skills?
ME: And I'd be willing to open up the game to all willing participants.
DWIGHT: Kevin, do you really think we'd--
BRIAN, TURNER, and NICK: I'm in!

The boys followed me back to where Gerry was sitting. Scooter had come over to talk to him and when they saw me approaching, Scooter looked like he could tell something was up. I pulled him a few feet away so I could talk with him.

SCOOTER: Something wrong with Gerry?
ME: You mean Gerry the salsa-dancing, Shane-from-Road-Rules dating guy whose grandmother was a WWII P.O.W.?
SCOOTER: Ohh...I forgot to tell you--he's a compulsive liar.
ME: And this is the guy that was going to stop the blog in its tracks?
SCOOTER: Hey, you're a theater guy--I thought you would appreciate his--
ME: His what? Theatricality? Is he going to crash land in a helicopter on our second date? Cue the falling chandelier? Or is he just going to tell me he flew a helicopter in Nam and that his uncle makes chandeliers for a living?
SCOOTER: That was quite a rant.
ME: I am never letting you fix me up on a date again.
SCOOTER: Does that mean you're not going to talk to him anymore?
ME: Of course not, I'm going to make the best of it like I always do.
SCOOTER: You're going to try and out-lie him?
ME: Yeah, me and the boys. You want in?
SCOOTER: Two words: 'Fuck' and 'yeah.'

Cut to all of us in the pool--myself, Gerry, and Scooter included--playing a game of 'Bullshit in the Water!'

...Okay, maybe not the best name for the game.

GERRY: So, how did you all meet?

Here we go...

ME: I actually met Brian when he and were in show choir together in high school.
GERRY: You two went to the same high school?
BRIAN: It was a high school strictly for gay teenagers.
GERRY: What was it called?
ME: Frederick Allan Gestault High School.
GERRY: Oh my God! My cousin Rich went there. It's a great school.

Brian looked at me in thinly veiled shock. I was thinking the same thing. This guy has balls.

ME: Turner and I met on a nude beach.
GERRY: Really?
ME: Yeah, it's a funny story. Tell it Turner.

Hey, why should I have to do all the work?

Luckily, Turner had his A-game on.

TURNER: My grandmother owned a house on the beach. She was one of those nudist pioneers. Anyway, I used to go visit her every summer--
GERRY: And your grandmother would walk around naked?
TURNER: Oh yeah. Hey, you've seen one naked octogenarian, you've seen them all, am I right?
GERRY: Um--
TURNER: Anyway, I was on the beach one day playing nude volleyball, when Kevin walked up and asked if he could join the game.
BRIAN: Tell him what you said when he asked that, Turner. This will have you stitches, Gerry.

God, we can be such bitches.

TURNER: I said--That depends. How are you at serving balls?

Oh Christ...

GERRY: You know, I met my first boyfriend on a nude beach.
ME: You did?
GERRY: Yeah, it was in Costa Rica back when I was working with the Peace Corp.

Na-who-what-what?

DWIGHT: Nick here is related to George Washington Carver.
ME: Really?
NICK: Yes, Dwight, really?
DWIGHT: Don't be modest, Nick.
ME: Dwight, I didn't think you wanted--

He gave me his "You boys are clearly drowning, and I'm your lifeboat" look.

DWIGHT: He has to go to all these functions--you know, George Washington Carver museum openings and stuff.
GERRY: There's more than one George Washington Carver museum?
BRIAN: Oh God, have you been to Idaho? They can't get enough of the guy.
TURNER: Actually, Kevin and I went to one of those openings together--
DWIGHT: And that's how the two of them met Nick and I.
NICK: Dwight was working with the affirmative action lobby.
DWIGHT: Nick and I were engaged at the time.
NICK: But the engagement got broken off because Dwight cheated on me with Scooter.
SCOOTER: What?
GERRY: Wow, and you guys still get along?
ME: They had a threeway and got over it.

Sadly, that's probably the most realistic-sounding lie any of us stated the entire time.

TURNER: Kevin and Brian used to date as well.
BRIAN: But then he got into sadomasochism.
ME: And Brian contracted the clap. Not that I wasn't supportive.
BRIAN: Who do you think I contracted it from?
NICK: I think it was you, Dwight, wasn't it?
DWIGHT: No, I gave hepatitis to Turner.
SCOOTER: I think I gave the clap to Brian.

Gerry was watching us like we were a tennis match. I was positive he was going to try and call us out on our blatant absurdities.

Instead we paused, he smiled, and then said--

GERRY: I had sex with Ryan Gosling once.

SON-OF-A-BITCH!

We all retreated to the kitchen for a pow wow while Gerry went over to talk to some of Scooter's other friends.

DWIGHT: What are we trying to do here exactly?
ME: I want him to call us out on our lies so we can call him out on his!
BRIAN: So we can have a big confrontation and have everything be awkward?
ME: Yes!
TURNER: I think it's kind of fun. Can I start talking with an accent?
DWIGHT: Why don't we tell him we used to be in a boy band?
NICK: Motherf**ker, what boy band would I have been in?
SCOOTER: Look, I've known Gerry for awhile. If you want to catch him in a lie, you have to actually catch him. Like publicly. Otherwise, he'll never back down.
ME: How are we supposed to do that?

Then it hit me.

ME: Scooter, how's your Shakira collection?
DWIGHT: You really think now is the time to listen to 'Underneath Your Clothes'?
ME: Dwight! Scooter?
SCOOTER: Hey, despite everything, I'm still a gay guy. I own everything that Latin goddess has done.
ME: Perfect. Gear up your stereo.

I went back outside and found Paye. I explained the situation to him and then went over to where Gerry was standing.

ME: Hey.
GERRY: Hey there. Having fun?
ME: I'm about to. How'd you like to show off some of those salsa skills?
GERRY: Uh--what do you mean?
ME: I thought we could liven the party up a little with some dancing.
GERRY: Um, all right. Sounds cool.

Paye and Turner were going to dance alongside us so that it would be clear we had no idea what we were doing.

TURNER: I don't get it though, Kevin. You're not exactly--
ME: I suck at dancing. I know. That's what's great about it. I won't be able to help him at all. He's going to have to lead.
PAYE: This should be interesting.
ME: Tell Scooter to cue the music.

Never really knew that you could dance like this...

Oh, how I wish I could describe what Gerry and I looked like trying to do a realistic salsa. With Paye leading Turner with grace and poise, it was like watching Apollo dance next to Jerry Springer.

You make a man want to speak Spanish...

I'm pretty sure at some point there was snapping, shaking, and I might have dropped it like it was hot on "Let me see you move like you come from Colombia."

Once the song was over, we got riotous applause. Most of the party didn't know that me and the boys had thrown down a challenge that Gerry just lost. He seemed to take it in good humor though.

GERRY: Guess you got me, Mr. Broccoli.
ME: You realize I might have liked you even if you weren't a salsa-dancing champion, right?
GERRY: Yeah, but isn't it so much more fun if I am?

It's hard to argue with that.

Gerry and I actually hung around long after most of the other guests had left. Scooter and everyone else eventually went into his living room to watch a movie while me and my date floated around in the pool.

ME: So tell me something true about yourself.
GERRY: Absolutely true?
ME: Absolutely true.
GERRY: Okay... I call too much.
ME: Huh?
GERRY: When I meet a guy I like, I tend to call too much. I know I do it. I know I shouldn't. It's a serious problem.
ME: Compared to other problems, it's not that bad.

So he's a bit of a bugaboo and a compulsive liar--nobody's perfect.

GERRY: Tell me something true about yourself.
ME: Okay.
GERRY: Wait--tell me something you know is true that other people know is true, but that everyone pretends isn't true.
ME: There's no way for me to have understood that.
GERRY: You know what I mean. What truth is unspoken in your life?
ME: Who talks like that? Are you the reincarnation of Elizabeth Barrett Browning?
GERRY: Don't be clever. Just answer the question.
ME: Answer the question, Claire?
GERRY: Yes.

He splashed a little water at me.

ME: Fine. Um, something that...okay.

And I don't know what possessed me but I said the first thing that came to my mind.

ME: I'm not...very attractive.
GERRY: Excuse me?
ME: I mean, I think I can be handsome at times, and occasionally I have moments of 'cute' but for the most part, I don't think I'm all that attractive.
GERRY: So you think you're ugly?
ME: No, I don't think I'm ugly. I think there are other things besides attractive and ugly.
GERRY: Explain.
ME: I think I look intelligent, reliable, nice--maybe, hopefully, a decent guy--but I know that when I walk in a room, I don't exactly turn heads.
GERRY: Boy, and I thought I was full of shit.
ME: I'm being serious!
GERRY: And you actually believe this?
ME: I just think it's the truth. I mean, I see how guys look at me. I'm the nice guy. Nice guys aren't hot.
GERRY: Who said you were nice?

I flipped his raft over. He came back up and tried to splash me again, but I grabbed him from behind and both of us started laughing.

GERRY: You are a nice guy, Kevin, but you're also quite attractive.
ME: Matter of perception.
GERRY: Exactly, it is. It's not a matter of truth.
ME: Why are we randomly having this discussion?
GERRY: Because this is what truthful discussions sound like.
ME: Worst thing you've ever done to someone who hurt you?
GERRY: Hurt them back, but worse.
ME: How?
GERRY: Slept with their best friend.
ME: Wow.
GERRY: Worst decision you've ever made?
ME: Yelled at someone when I should have talked to them.
GERRY: Good one.
ME: What do you want to do right now more than anything in the world?
GERRY: This--

He pulled me down underneath the water and he kissed me. And whether or not it was truthful, it was the most wonderful feeling I've felt in a long time.

FRIEND: Who the f**k plays Shakira at a barbeque? What is this 1997?
ME: It achieved its goal.
FRIEND: Why didn't you just throw on 'Whoop! There It Is'?
ME: We're saving that one for Pride.
FRIEND: So you like the fibber?
ME: I just sympathize with people who feel like they need to go to extreme means to be better than who they are.
FRIEND: Like people who create random social experiments to try and prove to themselves it's possible for them to find love?
ME: If that's a crack at Flava Flav, I won't stand for it.
FRIEND: Just tell me he gave you hydro-head.
ME: God, and the phrases keep being coined.

The day after the barbeque, I got a phone call from Scooter.

SCOOTER: You took off too soon, Mr. B.
ME: What are you talking about? The party was over. Gerry and I left together.
SCOOTER: Well had you stayed you would have seen the fireworks.
ME: Fireworks?
SCOOTER: We had us a hookup last night, and you'll never believe who the two people were.

And he was right...

I didn't believe him.

Come Join the Party

2007-05-25T22:28:00.001-07:00

The blog has officially hit Facebook y'all.

http://ric.facebook.com/group.php?gid=2437086840

C'mon, all the cool kids are doing it :o)

Date #88: The United Front

2007-05-23T14:49:00.001-07:00

Let it be known that too much of anything is never a good thing.

Even friends.

Turner was preparing for his first big run-in with Gary at a club.

TURNER: I've got to strategize about this.

A group of us were over Dwight's house watching Little Children (and by Little Children, I mean a tape of the Hairspray cast on Oprah--there was no chance of us actually sitting through Little Children--despite how much love I have for Patrick Wilson in that movie.)

ME: How does one strategize about running into someone?
TURNER: I need a United Front.
BRIAN: Beg your pardon?
TURNER: I need to bring lots of people with me so it'll look like I've moved on with my life.
BRIAN: Because clearly you haven't?

Turner was recently starting to show some pep again, but the thought of seeing Gary had set him back about three cartons of B&J's.

ME: So how does one create a United Front?
NICK: Is it like a posse?
DWIGHT: How do you get to be in the United Front?
SCOOTER: Is ass-kicking involved?
TURNER: Let me explain.

A United Front is pretty much like it sounds, although in theory, it's a little bit more like papering an event. You see, what happens is that you know someone you know who (usually an ex who you lfet on bad terms with) is going to be somewhere, and you get a bunch of people to show up with you (like a posse, or an entourage) and make it look like you are just Mr. Party. The trick to a United Front is that you don't actually enter with everyone you invite. You enter with a sizable group and then everyone else you invited stagger in throughout the night.

BRIAN: And the point of that is?
TURNER: So that all night people are coming up to you and saying hi and whatnot.
ME: Sounds brilliant. I'm in. I even have a plus one.

An old buddy of mine--Mac--was coming home after graduating from college in the Midwest and he asked if he could take me out. Despite my theory about dates and clubs, I thought, Eh, why not? It's summer. Time to live a little.

NICK: I'll go. I can even call up some of my buddies.
BRIAN: You have buddies?
NICK: You don't think I spend all my time waiting for you motherf**kers to pick up the phone and call, do you?
DWIGHT: I can bring some guys from Log Cabin.
ME: Nobody from the orgy.
SCOOTER: Boo.
TURNER: Scooter, you can bring some people, right?
SCOOTER: Turner, man, I have you so covered.

That's when we should have started worrying.

The first wave arrived at the club at 11pm. The first wave was not to include Turner. Brian, Mac, and I were to arrive first so that we could set the scene for Turner's big entrance at 11:30. The second wave comprised of Nick and his friends was going to arrive at 11:15.

Can you believe they don't let gays in the army?

As soon as I got to the club, I spotted Gary. He was there with a really cute guy and they appeared to be really happy to be there with each other.

We were going to have to do this mother up.

Mac had been really cool with regards to the whole "Hey, you wanna be in a United Front" thing. He even offered to wear army fatigues, but I thought that might make him look like he was planning to blow up the club rather than consume it.

MAC: Gary looks pretty happy.
BRIAN: And that guy is pretty cute.
ME: He's not Turner.
BRIAN: No, Turner's shorter and his arms aren't that impressive.
ME: Brian!
BRIAN: Just putting it out there.

The guy looked like your typical dumb jock type. He was also not listening to anything Gary said to him. Every once in awhile his eyes would land on Gary and he'd laugh at whatever Gary had just said, but he clearly was more interested in who else might show up than who he was with at the moment.

That, I thought, could work to our advantage.

ME: We might need to change the game plan a little.

I texted Turner.

TEXT: EAGLE HERE WITH HOTTIE.
TEXT FROM TURNER: :O(
TEXT: NO :O( HOTTIE NOT INTERESTED
TEXT FROM TURNER: :O)
TEXT: I THINK HE MIGHT WANT TO BAIL
TEXT FROM TURNER: SHOULD WE?
TEXT: UP 2 U
TEXT FROM TURNER: LET'S FO IT.
TEXT: YOU MEAN DO IT?
TEXT FROM TURNER: YEAH
TEXT: OKAY! :O)

I caught the boys up on the plan.

MAC: So we're actually going to try and get this guy to abandon Gary?
ME: Hey, Gary walked out on Turner and now it's a little over a month and he's looking to suck face with some airhead at a club in front of everyone.
BRIAN: Everyone being all the people we invited here tonight.
ME: Whatever, point is, if he wants to jump back into the dating pool, he might as well learn now that there are some hot friggin' fish to compete with in there.
MAC: Good metaphor.
ME: Thank you.

The second wave arrived.

Nick had brought a decent amount of poeple with him--I'd say seven or eight. And with that number we had already pretty much overtaken the dance floor since it was only 11:15 and the club doesn't even pick up until 11:30.

Everyone was instructed to run back and forth to each other asking, "When's Turner going to get here?" and "Has anyone seen Turner?"

(Just imagine the waiter scene from Hello Dolly! with Turner as Carol Channing.)

MAC: Did you ever consider what would happen if Gary heard all this and decided to leave?
NICK: Then we could have the club to ourselves and this stupid United Front thing would be finished.
ME: Hey! We're Turner's support system here! Show a little team spirit.
BRIAN: Is there where you say 'Hoo-Wah!'?
ME: Don't test me.

At 11:30, I saw a large group of people entering the club...

...Let me rephrase that. I saw a pack, a herd, and a gaggle.

I had no idea Turner had these kind of connections.

Then I saw who was leading the pagglerd.

SCOOTER: How's this for a Front?

I grabbed Scooter and dragged him upstairs.

SCOOTER: What's your issue, Broccoli?
ME: First off, yelling out that we're a Front in front of Gary--not a good idea.
SCOOTER: Okay, point taken.
ME: Secondly, who the hell are all those people?
SCOOTER: You said to round up some people.
ME: We said 'some people' not the Class of 2007!

We ran back downstairs to find that you couldn't even move across the floor. That's how crowded it was. And of course, Scooter hadn't briefed his people as well as Nick had, so they were saying things like--

"Who's this dude Turner we're supposed to meet?" and "Anybody got any coke?"

It wasn't until 11:40 that I realized Turner hadn't even showed up yet.

I texted him.

TEXT: WHERE R U?!?!?!?!?
TEXT FROM TURNER: DON'T KNOW IF I CAN DO THIS
TEXT: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TEXT FROM TURNER: I'M SORRY
TEXT: TURNER!
TEXT FROM TURNER: IT'S TOO HARD
TEXT: WE'LL TALK L8TER

I broke the news to everyone.

ME: Turner's not coming.
BRIAN: You're kidding.
MAC: Why not?
ME: He can't face Gary.
NICK: He wouldn't have to. I can't even see him anymore with all these people.
BRIAN: Should we have the D.J. make an announcement? Some of these people look like they weren't informed that this was a gay club.
SCOOTER: Hey, I did what I had to do, man!
MAC: We could always try to go get him and bring him here ourselves.
ME: No way. By the time we got to where he is and back, the club would be closed.
BRIAN: So what do we do?
ME: We say hi to the Republicans.

The last wave--included Dwight and the Right Wingers--had just walked into the club.

Dwight's people had been better prepped than anyone. I guess Dwight must have gotten into the theatrical spirit, because it was like they were putting on some sort of pagaent. As soon as they started walking by me I could hear--

"I hear this guy Turner is really hot." and "When I meet this boy Turner, he is getting some major play."

ME: Way to go, Dwight. You really delivered. The Republicans are working it.
DWIGHT: Oh, none of these guys are Republicans.
ME: Huh?
DWIGHT: They're from my high school drama club. They were all getting together tonight for a mini-reunion and when I got the facebook invite I decided to ask them for a favor.
ME: And they said yes?
DWIGHT: Are you kidding? If they had had more time they probably would have went out and shopped for costumes.

At that point, one guy walked by me and said--"Where is that hunk? I want to scrub him up then hose him down."

DWIGHT: He's straight by the way.
ME: I could tell by the way he said 'hose.'

I will say this for the evening--it was certainly eventful--minus the actual event it had been intended for of course.

At the end of the night when everyone was filing out, Gary walked up to me.

GARY: Hey Kev.
ME: Hey Gary, how are you?
GARY: Pretty good. How are you?
ME: Oh, I'm beat. I did more today before 11pm then...um, never mind. Where's your friend?
GARY: He took off with some kid who said he was going to lick him--or something.
ME: Sorry.
GARRY: No biggie. He was just a friend anymore--and kind of a moron.
ME: Yeah, I could tell.
GARY: So...no Turner tonight?
ME: Nah, he didn't feel like coming out.
GARY: Gotcha. Well, have a good night.

He started to walk away.

ME: Um, is that it?
GARY: What?
ME: You're not going to ask how he's doing?
GARY: Is it bad that I don't really care how he's doing?
ME: Well--yes. You two did date after all.
GARY: I'm kind of all set with that.

Um, is it bad that I then wanted to punch him in the teeth?

ME: Wow, when did you turn to stone?
GARY: Okay, if we're going to do this, I'm just going to leave.
ME: We're not going to do anything. I just think it's dick that you suddenly disown someone and don't have any problem with it. Someone you used to be really close to.
GARY: Well we can't all be sentimental saps, Kevin.

Okay, gloves off.

ME: You're right. Some of us are human.
GARY: You have no idea the things he said to me the night we broke up.
ME: I don't care. People make mistakes. People screw up. You're not going to get to write off everybody who hurts you, Gary. And if you do, you're just going to wind up alone.
GARY: Thanks for the advice, pal.
ME: Anytime, dickhead.

I started to walk away. Mac and Nick met me halfway.

MAC: Kev, you okay?
ME: I'm fine.

I heard Gary from behind me.

GARY: You don't know it all, Kevin. You may think you do, but you don't.

I should have just kept walking, but I couldn't.

ME: I know that as messed up as I may be, I'm never going to be like you. And that's a comfort, Gary.
BRIAN: And by the way, your shirt looks like a science project gone wrong! Horribly, horribly wrong!

Mac and I dropped off Brian, and then wound up back in front of Mac's house where it was clear that I was really upset.

MAC: I guess it's a good thing Turner didn't show up tonight, huh?
ME: To see that asshole? Yeah.
MAC: Can I ask why you're so upset?
ME: It's just...Turner's the nicest guy I know. I mean, he's the closest thing to a genuinely good person that I know of, and...for someone to cut him off like that...just for what? An argument? A couple harsh words? I mean, I've screwed up so much worse than that--I've done things and said things that are way worse. And I guess I just always thought that--
MAC: That people would give you another chance?
ME: Yeah.
MAC: Not everyone's that forgiving.
ME: So everyone screws up but not everyone can forgive?
MAC: Welcome to the great paradox of life.

Gah.

I called Turner to see how he was doing. Apparently he'd stayed in all night looking at old photos of him and Gary. He asked me if I thought he was pathetic, and I honestly answered, "No." I said that everyone's entitled to a night of remembering when the people you love loved you back and when you were the happiest. As long as you remember that those times will come again in a different form, you're fine.

Right?

FRIEND: I often look back on photos of me when I was skinny and weep.
ME: You weigh a hundred pounds.
FRIEND: Exactly. I can't even fit in my skinny jeans anymore.
ME: The ones from Baby Gap?
FRIEND: Yeah, those. I wish I could have seen your little Front.
ME: I still feel good about it. I think it's important to create a support system for people you love.
FRIEND: A support system full of gays, skanks, drunks, and drama club alumni?
ME: Hey, you take help wherever you can get it.

Before we got off the phone, Turner and I had this exchange:

TURNER: Just tell me one thing--
ME: That guy wasn't even close to as amazing as you are.
TURNER: I was going to ask if Gary said anything about me?

And whether or not it was the right thing to do, I answered--

"No, Turner. He didn't say anything about you at all."

Hey, nobody said it was easy putting up a United Front.

Date #87: Are You For Real?

2007-05-19T12:19:00.001-07:00

You know, I used to think you were a sweet guy and your blog was funny, witty and charming. Indicative of real life. Not so much anymore. You're kind a dick, actually. And these stories can't be real anymore.

- Billy

Scooter and I were reading some comments on the blog at his house.

When I came across the one from my formerly happy reader Billy, I was a tad distraught. I've always been bothered by people who don't like me. I guess I have the anti-Sally Field complex.

ME: I'm a dick?
SCOOTER: You're not a dick.
ME: He called me a dick.
SCOOTER: Who is he?
ME: I don't know. Just a guy who thinks I'm a dick.

Scooter didn't seem to get why I was so sad.

SCOOTER: Who cares what he says? It's just one guy.
ME: Yeah, but what if other people feel this way?
SCOOTER: Kevin, is it any surprise to you that you can be a dick sometimes?
ME: Yes, but this is indicating that most of the time I wasn't a dick, and now I've become a full-time dick.
SCOOTER: Not to mention a self-obsessed dick.
ME: Plus there's the comment about not believing any of this.
SCOOTER: Hey, I keep telling you to post pictures on the blog. That'll guarantee validity.
ME: Did you just use the word 'validity'?
SCOOTER: Um...it'll prove stuff...yeah.
ME: And how would I do that? Hey, great being on a date with you, mind if I take your picture for my website? That should get me on the second date, no problem.
SCOOTER: Good point.
ME: Meanwhile, I'm approaching Date #90, I'm no closer to finding Mr. Right, I've turned into a dick, and everybody thinks I'm a fictional character!
SCOOTER: I might have a solution for you.

The next day I was phoning somebody with some rather odd news.

VOICE: Hello?
ME: Hi, is this Mitchell?
VOICE: Um...yeah.
ME: Hey, this is Kevin.
VOICE (MITCHELL): Kevin...?
ME: Broccoli...From the blog...100 dates--
MITCHELL: Oh my God! Are you serious?
ME: Yeah.

I kind of wasn't expecting the "Oh my God!" It's not like I'm Maroon 5.

MITCHELL: Sorry, it's just weird--and kind of random.
ME: Oh, I'm fully aware of that. I got your e-mail.

Mitchell had sent me an e-mail awhile back telling me how much he enjoyed my blog and saying that if I was ever willing to bend the rule about dating people who know about the blog, then he'd love to go out on a date with me as he thought we would be really compatible. He gave me his phone number, and told me that even though he's from New Hampshire, he'd be more than willing to make the trip down.

After Scooter's suggestion that I take a reader out on a date to prove that a) I haven't become a full-time asshole and b) the blog--for the eightieth time--is not made up, I myspaced Mitchell to verify that he was not a) married b) in prison c) into raising cockroaches for fun or d) all of the above.

He wasn't. I called. And bingo, we were going to have ourselves a date.

MITCHELL: I should probably let you know though--I don't think the blog is fake. So you don't have to prove anything to me.
ME: Well, I would have offered to take this guy Billy out, but since he went to all the trouble of commenting on the blog just to tell me he hates me now, I didn't think he'd be up for pizza and a walk in the park.
MITCHELL: We're going to a park?
ME: It's just an expression.
MITCHELL: I'm pretty sure it's not--not in that context.
ME: Eh, tomato-tomato (pronounced toe-mah-toe.)
MITCHELL: I should pack some audios for the ride down.

He listens to audiobooks? Very literary (and I work in a library, so that pleases me).

ME: I feel kind of bad having you drive all the way down here from New Hampshire.
MITCHELL: Oh, don't worry about it. I've been to Providence a few times and I've always liked it. This'll be fun.
ME: Terrific. Can't wait to meet you.

Wow, this guy sounds really cool. I should have bent this rule months ago!

At this point, I've already let most of the core group know about the blog--and since most of them think it's just an elaborate livejournal type of thing; nobody really minds. Although I think things were about to get a little...post-modern--and I wasn't sure how they were all going to feel about it.

Mitchell arrived in town around lunchtime. Since one of the goals of the date was to verify that in fact everyone I know exists, and since he likes the blog, I thought he might get a kick out of going to lunch with me and Brian at the N.C.

ME: Brian, this is Mitchell. Mitchell, Brian.
MITCHELL: Nice to meet you.
BRIAN: Same here.
ME: Mitchell is here to make sure you're real.
BRIAN: Well...I am.
MITCHELL: I can see that. I thought you'd be taller though.
BRIAN: I'm sitting down.
MITCHELL: Yeah, but...still.

Awkward pause.

BRIAN: So, what else are you boys up to today?
ME: I made a picnic lunch for us.
BRIAN: How cute and gay. Are you going for a walk in the park?
MITCHELL: Is this a new trend I'm not following?
ME: Brian and I just hang out too much. We're starting to sound like each other.
BRIAN: Have I really been whining that much?
ME: Ouch, that stung.
MITCHELL: Wow, you guys really are snappy.
BRIAN: Beg your pardon?
MITCHELL: Like--back and forth. Like in some old drawing room comedy or something.
ME: Actually, Brian and I once acted in The Importance of Being Earnest together.
MITCHELL: You were?
BRIAN: He was kidding.
MITCHELL: Oh sorry.

Brian gave me the "Is this guy slow on the uptake?" look and I gave him the "Be nice, he's sweet and I'm trying not to be a dick" look back.

BRIAN: So Mitchell, where are you from?
MITCHELL: New Hampshire.
BRIAN: And you drove all the way down here just to hang out with Kevin?
MITCHELL: Yeah, why not? Random road trips can be fun.
BRIAN: Did he promise to do the Ashton Kutcher on you?
ME: Brian!
MITCHELL: No, but I was going to offer to pay for his lunch if he told me what it was.
ME: Had I known that, I would have ordered dessert, too.
BRIAN: Why? So you can eat an entire cake in front of me and then flaunt your fast metabolism all over the place?
MITCHELL: You're kind of...bitchier in real life.
BRIAN: Uh...what?

I decided that lunch with Brian is probably better viewed from afar than experienced.

Unfortunately, our picnic got rained out. Luckily, Turner was out of town and he had asked me to get his mail while he was gone, along with that task came permission to entertain Mitchell.

TURNER: Just don't hump on the couch.
ME: When did you get so crass?
TURNER: Maybe I should ask your friend Billy. He seems to be keeping tabs on all our character arcs.
ME: Very funny.
TURNER: You can't let stuff get to you, Kevin. You're a good guy. You know you're a good guy. And I know you're a good guy. You're no saint, but nobody is. We all screw up and we try to do better the next day. That's the best you can do.
ME: Too bad Mitchell can't meet you.
TURNER: Why? Is he collecting autographs?
ME: No, I just think you're the best proof I have that I'm not a jerk.
TURNER: How do you figure?
ME: How could someone as sweet as you be friends with a jerk?
TURNER: For that, you can hump on the couch.

I set the picnic out in the living room. Mitchell seemed really impressed.

ME: Granted, I didn't cook anything.
MITCHELL: Not even this deli container full of Greek pasta?
ME: Says the boy who might not even get to eat the delicious, store-bought, Greek pasta salad.
MITCHELL: Hey, I'm not complaining. You don't strike me as the cooking type now that I've met you.
ME: I think I've mentioned a few times in the blog that eggs over easy is as crazy as I go.
MITCHELL: I appreciate a guy who likes take-out.
ME: I adore take-out. I can recite the number of every good pizza in a five-mile radius by heart.
MITCHELL: You're lying.
ME: Tommy's Pizza. 351--
MITCHELL: Okay, okay. I believe you.

We ate and laughed and had an all-around good time. Then the doorbell rang.

I was a little surprised. I thought everyone knew Turner was out of town.

When I went to get the door, I had an ominous feeling.

So, of course, there was Scooter.

SCOOTER: I came to meet my fan.
ME: Oh Christ...

Mitchell was a really good sport about Scooter joining us. Once Scooter gave him the top-secret link to his own personal blog, it was all easy skating from there.

MITCHELL: I've been dying to read Scooter's Guide to Life.
ME: I can tell you Scooter's Guide to Life. It involves kegs, sex, and reruns of Home Improvement.
SCOOTER: The secret to happiness lies in those three key elements.
ME: It looks like our picnic is just about done.
SCOOTER: Why don't we show the boy the town? Give him a kind of 'Kevin's Reality Tour.'
ME: Lately it seems like nothing about my life has anything to do with reality.
MITCHELL: I do kind of want to see where you guys do karaoke.
SCOOTER: Well, c'mon Kev, the boy's asking for karaoke. They don't even have that up in New Hampshire, do they?
MITCHELL: Actually, we--
SCOOTER: Done. Let's go.

When Nick and Dwight heard that we were bringing Mitchell to karaoke, they were already signed up for their (and everybody else's) new favorite duet:

NICK: Love...Love will keep us together...Think of me, babe whenever...

The bar was already going nuts for it by the time we walked in.

MITCHELL: So the other guy up there is Dwight?
ME: Yup.
MITCHELL: Why isn't he singing?
ME: He doesn't sing.
MITCHELL: So why is he up there?
ME: He's the Captain.

Basically, Nick does all the work and Dwight puts on this captain's hat he found and sits in a chair miming playing the piano. It sounds cheesy, but you have to see them do it to really appreciate the camp value.

NICK: Young and beautiful...but someday your looks'll be gone!

Mitchell smiled at me.

ME: Happy so far?
MITCHELL: It's like stepping into your favorite t.v. show.
ME: I'm not sure I'd want to do that.
MITCHELL: How come?
ME: Because the first thing I'd do once I stepped into it would be to toss water in Meredith's face and tell her to get over herself.
SCOOTER: How do you know that's not what Mitchell wants to do to you.
MITCHELL: Hey Scooter?
SCOOTER: Yeah.
MITCHELL: Fuck off. (Pause.) Wow, that really is fun.

Once the song was over and Nick had uttered "Sedaka is back" we all sat down to chat.

NICK: So what do you think of me?
MITCHELL: You're kind of underwritten.
NICK: That's what I keep saying! Kev, you would think we never hang out.
ME: We don't really.
NICK: We hang out all the time!
ME: I know, but Scooter just comes out with better stuff than you do.
SCOOTER: Thank you!
DWIGHT: How about me?
ME: Guys, Mitchell isn't a focus group. He's my guest.
SCOOTER: And as your guest, I think you should invite him to do a little number.
MITCHELL: Oh, I'm with Dwight. I don't sing.
NICK: Kevin could sing for you. I'm pretty sure they have 'Play That Funky Music' on file.
ME: Fyi, I retired 'Play That Funky Music.'

Mitchell put his hand over mine and kind of leaned into me.

MITCHELL: Could you do something? Fan request?

Now how can you resist that?

ME: Fine, but you have to say it like they used to on T.R.L.
MITCHELL: Are you for real?
ME: Guys, help him out.

DWIGHT: Hi, my name is Dwight--
SCOOTER: Oh my God, I'm Scooter--
NICK: This is Nick from Rhode Island--
MITCHELL: And we want to request a song from Kevin Broccoli.
DWIGHT: Because he's so hot!
SCOOTER: Oh my God!
ALL: Ahhhh!!!!

Now, I'm not the best singer in the world--humongous understatement--but there are certain tunes I can hold.

Wish for you on a fallen star
Wondering where you are
Do I ever cross your mind
In the warm sunshine...

Hey, can you really go wrong with L.F.O.?

FRIEND: Why didn't you just sing 'What's My Age Again' and then blow him in the bathroom?
ME: I think you're supposed to sing Blink 182 after you blow somebody.
FRIEND: Are you feeling better about yourself now Mr. I Care What Some Guy Named Willy Thinks of Me?
ME: It's Billy, and yes, I do, sort of. But not because other people think different, although that does help.
FRIEND: Then why.
ME: Because I feel like I needed a reminder about why I was doing this.
FRIEND: To expose me to the world?
ME: No, although that is a nice bonus. It's to meet a good guy, and to meet a good guy, you have to be a good guy.
FRIEND: By that logic, I should be meeting people just like me.
ME: I'm pretty sure if you ever met someone just like you, it would cause a rip in the universe.
FRIEND: That or we'd have amazing sex and then never speak to each other again.
ME: Okay, you're right, go with the latter.

After my rousing rendition of "Girl on TV" changed to "Boy on TV" and sung pretty much directly at Mitchell (that's somehow appropo, I just don't know how). I escorted him back to his car and prepared to say good-bye to him.

ME: You sure you want to do the drive back so late?
MITCHELL: Don't worry. I have a Christopher Moore audiobook. I'll be fine.
ME: Well, thank you for one of the best dates I've had so far.
MITCHELL: Oh, thank you. I hope I gave you some good material for the blog.
ME: Actually, I usually like to wrap up the date with a--

But he was already leaning in for the kiss.

Big smile.

Date #86: Video Killed the Date

2007-05-15T14:00:00.000-07:00

It really is amazing what some people are into, isn't it?

I got asked out on a date with a guy named Brock, who seemed to be normal to the point of boredom. It wasn't until I mentioned him to Brian that I got an earful about him.

BRIAN: He's into taping.
ME: Like duct taping?
BRIAN: No, Hawking, he likes to get guys on film.

This revelation came over sesame chicken at the N.C.

ME: Does he tell the guys?
BRIAN: Not usually. They have to find out by seeing a new post on x-tube.
ME: Can't he get into trouble for that?
BRIAN: I think the people who really care complain and then he takes those videos off, but he still keeps them nonetheless.
ME: I can't believe that. I can't even believe you're talking about the guy who asked me out.
BRIAN: This state breeds all kinds of weirdos.
ME: Well forget it. No way am I going out on a date with him now.
BRIAN: Hey, it's not like it's guaranteed that he's going to tape you.
ME: What do you mean?
BRIAN: I hear he only tapes the ones he thinks are worth it.

Na-who-what-what?

BRIAN: You know, the ones he thinks will put on the best...show.

Ahhh...

ME: It's still creepy. I'm going to pass.
BRIAN: Kevin, come on. I doubt you'd be taped.
ME: Why wouldn't I be taped? You don't think I could set that filmstrip on fire?
BRIAN: Um, actually, I was going to say you don't have to worry because you're not one to sleep with a guy on the first date.
ME: Oh...Yeah, that too.

Hmmm, since I'm not going to sleep with this guy, why pass up the date, right?

We ate at a little place closer to the beach. Brock was house-sitting for his parents in Narragansett, and after dinner, he invited me to come take a look at their shore-proximity locale.

The house seemed relatively normal, but I was on the watch. If this guy had a camera anyway, I didn't want to be caught doing something uncouth like standing awkwardly or...sneezing.

Yeah, because those x-tube viewers are so classy...

BROCK: Can I get you a drink or something?
ME: Sprite, if you have it.

I sat down on the couch in the living room. I did a quick scan across the room and caught a red light peeking out of a closet. I walked over to the closet prepared to catch this guy getting me on tape when I heard--

BROCK: Were you in the mood for a movie?

I jumped. I turned around and saw him with my Sprite.

ME: Excuse me?
BROCK: A movie.
ME: I've never done one.
BROCK: Huh?
ME: Seen one.
BROCK: You haven't.
ME: Not today.
BROCK: Okay.
ME: But I'm kind of--not in the mood.
BROCK: Then why were you checking out the V.C.R.?

I looked at the blinking red light in the closet--not really a closet, but a door that covers up an unsightly (and huge) entertainment system.

ME: I'm just...into electronics.
BROCK: Gotcha. Well, you want to see my room?

Oh boy, here it comes.

His room was actually broken into two parts--both of them being large. There was a little sitting, office area, and then a bedroom. On the opposite side of the room was a sliding glass door leading out into his yard. He went over to his IPOD docker and put on some music. We sat down in two of the chairs in his semi-leisure space.

He started to talk. I tried to listen, but mostly I was looking everywhere for where the camera could be hidden. There were a lot of options. Behind the posters. Underneath the chest of drawers. Stashed somewhere--

And before I knew it he was kissing me.

DAMN! I need to pay more attention when someone's doing the lean-in.

Pretty soon he was on top of me in the straddling position. I kind of tried to push him down a little bit so that he could get the hint that kissing was as far as this was going to go. Another part of me was looking for the camera's hiding place.

Brock must have picked up on it.

BROCK: What are you looking for?
ME: Oh...nothing.
BROCK: You've heard, haven't you?
ME: Heard about what?

God, I'm bad at playing dumb.

BROCK: Don't worry. I'm not filming you.
ME: Oh...um...good.

He started kissing me again. But now I wanted to know--

ME: Um, why?
BROCK: Why what?
ME: Why aren't you filming me?
BROCK: You want to be filmed?
ME: No, but you're not even trying.
BROCK: It's just that--
ME: Oh, I get it.

I got up and proceeded to leave.

BROCK: Kevin--
ME: You don't think I can put on a show? Let me tell you something, buddy. I'm a veritable Cirque de Soleil when I want to be, not that I'd want to be with you. I'm 135 and I'm bendy! Really bendy!
BROCK: You mean flexible?
ME: YES! And I'm vocal, and I'm passionate, and I'm...I'm...theatrical!
BROCK: Kevin, the reason I can't film you is because my camera is at my apartment. I didn't bring it here with me. I wouldn't want my parents finding it.

Um...yeah...that makes sense, actually.

But by this point, we'd reach the--

ME: Oh, just--fuck off.

--point in the date. So I left.

There goes my big debut.

FRIEND: It's okay, honey. The camera adds ten pounds and hacks off two inches.
ME: Good thing I got out when I did.
FRIEND: I'd like to view some of this boy's work.
ME: I actually looked up some of it myself.
FRIEND: And?
ME: He shoots from weird angles.
FRIEND: Amateur. Where do you think he hides the camera?
ME: From the looks of it, he doesn't hide it at all.
FRIEND: Ah, he's got the Tommy Lee move-it-around way of thinking.
ME: Are we analyzing homemade porn techniques right now?
FRIEND: You say that like it's not a legitimate topic.

It looks like Brock's gotten about five guys on tape so far--so it's not like he's any kind of stud, thank God. I only watched the five to see if I would recognize anybody.

And I did.

SCOOTER: Hey, why have him take it off? I'm proud of my performance. That s**t is Oscar worthy.

Guess some people aren't as shy as others.

Date #85: Ugly-itis

2007-05-14T14:56:00.000-07:00

It's always nice when a guy flatters you.

SEAN: I just can't get over how cute you are.

Especially when the guy himself isn't too hard on the eyes.

SEAN: I can't believe you're still single. You're just so sharp looking.

I mean, how can you resist, right?

SEAN: I look at you and I forget my own name.

So how could any of this make you feel bad about yourself?

Easy.

You see who else he's been saying it about.

BRIAN: He's got ugly-itis, huh?
ME: Big time ugly-itis.

Brian and I were discussing this horrid disease sweeping the nation over lunch at the N.C.

ME: It's just odd to me that someone's type could actually be...
BRIAN: ...Of the unattractive variety?
ME: I wish I could use nicer terminology.
BRIAN: He likes butt ugly dudes. How does that work for you?
ME: This is making me feel worse.

I should probably catch you up to speed.

Met a guy.
Went on a date.
He complimented me...a lot.

SEAN: Do people ever tell you that you should model?

Went home.
Beamed from ear to ear.
Looked on his myspace.
Found a few of the guys he's dated.
And they're all...

BRIAN: Zoo creatures from Jupiter?
ME: Let's be a little more sensitive than that.
BRIAN: Has he dated a bald guy?
ME: Check.
BRIAN: A guy with bad teeth?
ME: Check.
BRIAN: Bad skin?
ME: Check.
BRIAN: Overweight guy?
ME: Yup.
BRIAN: Dare I ask...all of the above?
ME: Pretty much all of them.
BRIAN: Cut...him...loose.

But it's a little more complicated than that.

Isn't it always?

If he thought all those guys were cute, then does that mean I'm...you know...

BRIAN: In the Fugly Club?
ME: It's not that I really put all that much stock in looks--
BRIAN: Kevin--
ME: Okay, so I put some stock in it, but not a lot. I mean, it doesn't hurt if the guy has nice pecs and a washboard stomach, but I don't require it. It's just that...
BRIAN: You want to know if you're attractive or not?
ME: Yes, I want to. Tell me. Tell me I'm not a troll.
BRIAN: I would, but I mean, I've never really thought of you that way.
ME: Come on, Brian. We went out on a date together. We almost fooled around. You can't say you've never thought about me...in that way.
BRIAN: Yeah, but it's all subjective. I mean, who cares what I think?
ME: I care! Am I hot or not?

He looked at me for a moment with a pained expression on his face. Then he said:

BRIAN: No.

I was a little flabbergasted.

ME: No?
BRIAN: No, you're not.
ME: Are you serious?
BRIAN: Kevin, you know me. Do you think I would have been able to maintain a friendship like the one I have with you if I was attracted to you in any way? I'd never be able to let my guard down in front of you.
ME: So how do you let down your guard for people you're dating? You must be attracted to them!
BRIAN: That's something me and my therapist have been talking about a lot.
ME: So I'm not cute or anything?
BRIAN: In my opinion...negative.

I wanted a second opinion.

NICK: I know just how you feel.
ME: You do?
NICK: Yup.

I had asked Nick out to a bookstore while we conversed about whether or not I should find a hole to crawl into in order to shield society from my hideous visage.

NICK: I once went out on a date with a guy. Really cute. Really nice. Really never called me back after the first date. I figure, well, he's really attractive, maybe he was a little out of my league. I mean, it hurt to admit it, but I had to face facts. Then I see him out a few days later with this guy who is an utter gremlin. I mean, pour water on this boy and he's going to sprout brothers and sisters off his back.
ME: Gotcha.
NICK: At first I was pissed. Then I realized. This guy either had really bad taste, in which case I'm glad he didn't find me attractive because that would have meant I was gross--
ME: Um, Nick...
NICK: Or he was just into dating ugly guys because it made him feel good being the hot one in the relationship, so it was just--
ME: The thing is, Sean actually thinks I'm cute.

Awkward pause.

NICK: He does?
ME: Yeah.
NICK: Oh...So you're just worried that...
ME: That I'm unattractive.
NICK: Yeah...um...hey, look at this book here--Crazy, huh?
ME: The Old Man and the Sea?
NICK: Yeah, how about him? Being old and on the sea and shit...

This was going to send me straight to a plastic surgeon.

I decided I needed to take a more proactive approach.

After asking Sean if we could hang out again, I went over his house and asked to check my myspace on his computer. While he was talking to me I casually clicked on his myspace.

ME: Hey, look at these guys on your wall. Did you date all these guys?
SEAN: Yup.
ME: Wow...they're all so...varied in the way they...look.
SEAN: I know.
ME: Would you say you have a certain...type?
SEAN: That's kind of an interesting question.
ME: I was just wondering.
SEAN: A physical type, no. As a matter of fact, my friends all gave me a hard time for dating most of these guys.
ME: Oh yeah? How come?
SEAN: Because physically, I guess, most of them aren't exactly great to look at.

Self-aware, hallelujah!

ME: Do you think that I'm--
SEAN: Oh Kev, I'm aware that you're way better looking that anyone I've ever dated.

Oh, thank God.

ME: Oh, that's no big deal.
SEAN: The thing is, all these guys made me laugh. To me, a guy who can make you laugh is ten times sexier than some musclehead whose just going to flex and expect me to jump him.
ME: So that's why you're so attracted to me?
SEAN: Because you make me laugh...and the fact that you are, in fact, quite cute doesn't hurt either.

Johnny, show him what he's won!

Now I just have to get over the fact that I was so hung up over how I look.

FRIEND: I'm not giving you my opinion until you stop shopping in the Before section at Before and After.
ME: I wasn't planning on asking you. You've been known to give people eating disorders.
FRIEND: One more and I get a Lifetime special.
ME: I just can't believe Brian doesn't think I'm attractive. Shouldn't us being so close--
FRIEND: Honey, the truth is--Brian was right. You can't even get close to someone until you relinquish that voice inside you that says 'This guy is hot. Stop spilling your guts to him and start unzipping your pants.'
ME: So friendship and attraction just don't mix.
FRIEND: Not unless the kind of buddy you're seeking is a f**k buddy.
ME: And what do you think about this guy being attracted to guys who make him laugh?
FRIEND: If I want to laugh, I'll go to a drag show and throw shoes at people. When I'm with a man I want a $%*$ and a *#$*

Well, everyone's entitled to their own opinion.

Date #84: The Pub Quiz

2007-05-09T13:08:00.000-07:00

At some point a group of friends will experience the following:

1) Death
2) Marriage
3) The birth of a child
4) Playing on a team of some sort

Since my group of friends consists of gay men, marriage is iffy, death is morbid, and children...

Well, do you want to try picturing Scooter raising a child?

But team sports? That was bound to happen.

It all came about when Brian and I were having lunch at the N.C. and I asked him for a favor.

ME: I need you to be on a team with me.
BRIAN: Does this have anything to do with table tennis?
ME: No, um, why would--
BRIAN: Never mind. Continue.

I was supposed to go on a date with this guy Bill, but at the last minute, he told me that he couldn't go. I assumed I was being ditched. I'll admit to being fairly upset. He was cute, and a transfer student with a hot British accent. Not to mention it's never easy being blown off.

BILL: No, it's not like that.
ME: Bill, it's fine, really.
BILL No, really--I just forgot that I had plans tonight.
ME: Do you mind me asking what your plans are?
BILL: It's going to sound stupid.
ME: Trust me, I won't judge.
BILL: I'm going to a pub quiz.

PUB QUIZ: A quiz held in a pub--popular trend in Britain.

ME: Well, that sucks. I really did want to hang out with you.
BILL: You know, most of my friends are going to be out of town that day. I was going to go to the pub and just find a bunch of guys to play with, but if you're free and you could get some people together--

Get some people together? Done and done.

BRIAN: Absolutely not.
ME: Why not?
BRIAN: No way am I going to a pub quiz.
ME: Come on, you love drinking and competition.
BRIAN: Kevin, I've heard about those quizzes. They're hard. We'll make idiots out of ourselves.
ME: No, we won't. We're smart.
BRIAN: Who else are you going to get to be on this team?

My next recruit was much more willing.

DWIGHT: I'll do it.
ME: Really?
DWIGHT: Absolutely. How often do you get to show off how much you know about current events and pointless topics in order to win beer mugs?
ME: Are you being sarcastic?
DWIGHT: Yes, but I'll still do it. I need a night out of the house.
ME: Fantastic. You might even meet a cute boy.
DWIGHT: Oh yeah. I'm sure these places are just filled with adorable gay men shouting out Mrs. Garrett's first name on The Facts of Life.
ME: Edna!

I was ready to kick some ass. I just needed one more person.

Luckily, I knew of at least two more equally smart people who I could turn to.

TURNER: No.
NICK: No way.

I was trying to convince at least one of the guys to do it. We needed five people for the team and as of now I only had three.

ME: C'mon guys.
TURNER: Nick, just do it. You're intelligent.
NICK: My ass is not stepping anywhere near a pub on a Sunday night. And what do you think the odds are that any of the questions are going to be about Zora Neale Hurston?
TURNER: Oh no, all the questions are going to be about Judy Garland and The Boys in the Band.
ME: Would you two stop being so elitist and pick someone to come with me?
TURNER: You pick.
NICK: Yeah, ask which one of us knows how botulism works.
ME: Better idea. Both of you pick a number between one and ten.
TURNER: Seven.
NICK: Three.
ME: Nick's coming with me.
TURNER: What number were you thinking of?
ME: I actually wasn't thinking of a number. I was just wondering whether they were more likely to ask about Zora Neale Hurston or Judy Garland. Zora won.
TURNER: Fair enough.
NICK: Damn!

Brian, Dwight, Nick, Bill, and myself showed up about ten minutes before the quiz was going to start. We all found a table and decided upon a team name.

BILL: You guys all know each other, so whatever you feel is best--
BRIAN: Homos 'R Us.
DWIGHT: Four Guys and a Conservative.
NICK: Who's the Black Guy?
ME: Broccoli's Angels?
BRIAN, DWIGHT, and NICK: No.
BILL: Me and my friends usually go by The Pop Tarts Posse.
ME: Inside joke?
BILL: Yeah.
ME: Love it. We're The Pop Tarts Posse.

Right before the quiz was about to start, I saw an unwelcome sight.

Scooter.

And he had a posse all his own--one that included Turner.

Turner came up to the table to say Hello.

ME: What are you and Scooter doing here?
TURNER: I told him about the pub quiz and he was kind of mad you didn't invite him.
ME: Oh Christ...
TURNER: So he told me he'd buy me a couple of drinks if I agreed to come along with him and be on his team.
ME: But you wouldn't be on my team!
TURNER: But you didn't offer me drinks.

I went over to where Scooter was seated with his three other teammates, which include the two drinks he "hung out" with the first time I met him and another one of my old friends.

ME: Hello Tommy, how are you?
TOMMY: Terrific thanks.
ME: Scooter, can I talk to you for a second?
SCOOTER: I really don't think we have much to talk about, Kevin.
ME: Scooter, I would have asked you but I didn't think this would be--
SCOOTER: Quiz is starting. Maybe you should get back to your table.
ME: Fine.

As I was heading back, I bumped into Turner.

ME: Do you guys have a name yet?
TURNER: Yeah.
ME: What is it?
TURNER: Scooter's Revenge.
ME: Amazing.

They were just announcing the first question when I arrived back at the table.

Question: These were found in a boy's ear this week--one was pulled out alive, the other dead.

BRIAN: SPIDERS!
ALL OF US: Ssshh!
BRIAN: Sorry! Spiders.

We whizzed through the current events questions getting five out of six.

BRIAN: We are kicking ass!
ME: I thought you weren't into this.
BRIAN: I'm getting into it! I want to win!
BILL: You just win tote bags, friend.
BRIAN: I want those f**king tote bags!

Apparently Brian has a competitive spirit.

Admittedly, I was also getting a little too involved, probably because I now wanted to beat Scooter's Revenge. They had gotten five out of six as well, except every time they got a question right, Scooter cheered and jumped up on his table beating his chest like Tarzan, Lord of the Apes.

BILL: Isn't that your friend?
ME: He's dead to me.
BRIAN: We're going to crush him.

The next round had to do with famous mothers--since Mother's Day is coming up.

Question: Who was the mother of Iphigenia, Orestaia, and Electra?

ME: Clymenstra.
DWIGHT: Excuse you.
ME: No, that's the answer. She was Agamemnon's wife.
NICK: Aga-who?
BRIAN: It's a weird theater question, it's his domain.

Question: A line from this movie is "Not in" this woman's house.

DWIGHT: Big Momma.
NICK: Aren't I supposed to be here for questions like that?

Question: This Republican Senator--

BRIAN: Dwight, do it up.
DWIGHT: I don't know the answer.
ME: Are you kidding?
DWIGHT: What am I? Newt Gingrich?
NICK: Yet you know Big Momma?
BILL: Guys, it's no big deal.

We then heard Scooter hoot.

ME: Dwight, answer the f**king question.
DWIGHT: I don't know!

Now we were behind. I could feel it.

The next few categories we were neck and neck with Scooter's revenge, but they always seemed to be just ahead of us. I was supposed to be using this time to get to know Bill. Instead, I was letting him see my wildly inappropriate competitive side.

The last category was music.

We got the first few questions no problem. The last question was what was sinking us. We had to finish the lyric.

I got a job that pays all our bills.

ME: Oh my God, I know this.
BRIAN: Kevin, what is it?
ME: Um, um...it's 'Fast Car' by Tracy Chapman. I just don't know the next lyric.
DWIGHT: Focus, Kevin.
NICK: Is it 'And I'll turn right back around?'
BRIAN: That's 'Gimme One Reason,' you jackass!
NICK: Whoa!
BILL: This could seal us the win.
BRIAN: Kevin!

I wasn't hearing anything from Scooter's Revenge.

ME: Driving...Driving in your car...Help me!
NICK: Speeds so fast I felt like I was drunk.
BRIAN: City lights lay out before us.
DWIGHT: And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder.
ALL: And I...had a feeling that I belonged...I...had a feeling I could be someone.
BILL: This is a little creepy.
ME: Not gonna lie?
BILL: Huh?
ME: Never mind.
BRIAN: You got it?
ME: Um...Stay out...stay drinking late at the bar!

Oh, that felt sooo good.

We ended up coming in second, but beating Scooter's revenge nonetheless. Best of all? We got to take home the tote bags.

On the way out, I stopped Scooter.

ME: You did really well.
SCOOTER: Maybe next time you'll let me be on your team.
ME: It really wans't anything personal, Scooter.

Tommy called out to Scooter from across the pub.

TOMMY: Scooter, you buying me and Turner those drinks?

I flinced.

ME: Promise me you won't sleep with him.
SCOOTER: You mean again?
ME: And look at you no longer allowed to be mad at me.
SCOOTER: Hey!
ME: Goodnight, Scooter.

I'd love to say there's a good moral to the story other than "Know Your Tracy Chapman," but I can't seem to find one.

FRIEND: The only guessing game I play while drinking is 'Guess what color my underwear is.'
ME: I think you would have had fun. Aside from me getting way too competitive, the evening was very enjoyable.
FRIEND: Honey, the only pubs I go to have gay porn playing in the background.
ME: It's always good to open up your horizons, especially when it means a nice night out with friends.
FRIEND: You mean a night out kicking your friends ass?
ME: That, too.

The next morning I called Bill to apologize.

ME: I know I got a little too into it.
BILL: I thought it was cute.
ME: You did?
BILL: Yeah. You organized a team just to hang out with me. That was sweet of you.
ME: Well...I try.

You have to hear this guy's accent. Sooo debonair.

And that was my first pub quiz--and clearly not my last. I want those damn polo shirts.

Date #83: Why Do We Keep Having These F**king Dinner Parties?

2007-05-04T10:36:00.000-07:00

Do you want to know the problem with most great t.v. shows?

Once they become really great, all the characters sort of become iconic. Think of Friends, Seinfeld, and yes, I'll even toss in Dawson's Creek.

Once the characters become iconic, the actors usually stop playing them as characters, and instead, start playing icons--which you can't really do. So the shows might continue to be successful, but then something seems like it's missing and nobody can tell what. It's because things have taken on a certain level of predictability that makes the show comforting to watch, but not really all that interesting.

Shows that try to avoid this (Six Feet Under, The Sopranos--okay, basically anything on HBO) tend to watch their core audience base dissolve over time, because the audience wants to believe they know these people; they're friends with these people. So when the writers have the characters do unexpected things so as not to become predictable people are flung out of their comfort zone--and they usually just stop watching.

The moral of the story is: No true television show can ever stay really great for long unless it achieves that perfect balance of having predictability and intrigue. (Buffy is one of the only shows I can think of that managed it somewhat nicely--although at the end it did tend to falter a bit.)

I bring all this up because I've noticed that people seem to have the same problem as great television shows. At some level they either become predictable and frustratingly boring or they become unpredictable and violently unstable along with discomforting.

So what do you do?

This all started at Turner's house where Brian, Scooter, Dwight and I were having a Heroes party (because I wanted to and I've got enough dirt on all of them to make them do it.)

SCOOTER: This might qualify as the lamest night of my life.
BRIAN: Didn't you dress up to go see Pirates of the Carribbean?
SCOOTER: Yeah.
BRIAN: Then I think this pales in comparison.
DWIGHT: Speaking of dressing up, should I have dressed up like the cheerleader?
TURNER: You? Cross-dress?
DWIGHT: Why not? It might break my mother's cold shoulder. She's been giving it to me since I informed her I will be voting for neither Hillary nor Barack in the next election.
BRIAN: So you spite her by doing drag?
ME: You should have, Dwight, male cheerleaders are hot. Remember the Bring It On boys?

http://www.durante-vita.net/images/blog_dv/2006_11/bring_it_on.jpg

TURNER: Aw, Gary loved Bring It On.
SCOOTER: I would have hammered those boys like a nail into a coffin.

Let's all just have a party in our head for a second over that sweet little image.

ME: Hey, where's Nick? I thought you guys were bringing him.

I noticed them all look at each other with unease.

ME: Um, something I should know?
TURNER: Tell him, Brian.
BRIAN: You tell him. I'm not telling him.
SCOOTER: Dude, I'm not telling him.
ME: Will somebody tell me?
DWIGHT: I'll tell him. Nick's out on a date.
ME: Okay, what was so hard about that?
DWIGHT: It's with Christopher.

Oh Christ...

ME: Is he out of his mind? How many more times is he going to make the same mistake over and over again?
BRIAN: And this is why we didn't tell you.
ME: Why? Because I'd have a normal reaction?
TURNER: No, because you turn into Mr. Judgmental.
ME: You all think Christopher is an asshole too!
SCOOTER: Yeah, but he's Scooter's asshole, man. If he wants to date him, let him.
TURNER: It's our job as friends to be supportive, not to give him a hard time every time he does something we don't agree with, you know?
ME: Dwight, come on, you can't agree with this. Republicans don't support anything.
DWIGHT: Kev, I think maybe if you were more accepting of people's choices, maybe...

I wasn't even going to give him the satisfaction of finishing the sentence.

With a brisk, America's Next Top Model type turn, I went into the living room and attempted to cool off. While the cooling commenced, I thought of my t.v. analogy, and how I, myself, and many of my friends had all fallen into the same pattern with certain things.

That's when I got my (questionably) bright idea.

During the commercial break, I let the boys in on my plan.

SCOOTER: Dude, that's the stupidest idea--
BRIAN: It's like a bad sitcom situational--
DWIGHT: I don't think I even talk about her that much--
TURNER: Kevin, it's funny, but it's not something that--

By the end of the episode, I had convinced them to give it a try.

PLAN: Screw predictability. Let us be the "Buffy"s of the world, not the "Facts of Life"ers. Let's rebel against people's perceptions of us. Let's go against our own grain. Let's...Let's...

ME: Let's throw a dinner party!

I can hear the groaning already.

Here was my challenge to my friends: For one night, we were not allowed to fall into the typical stereotypes we had created for each other--with each other.

For one night:

Scooter was not allowed to be crass, overtly obnoxious pertaining to sexuality and/or physical attraction, AND he was not allowed to call people "Dude."

Dwight was not allowed to play the token conservative. He was going to have to remain open-minded (not so tough) and no matter what, he would not be allowed to dwell on whatever travesty his mother (Mrs. Brown) had recently committed (really tough).

Brian was not allowed to be sarcastic or cynical in any way. He'd have to be optimistic and perky the entire evening.

Turner was not allowed to mope, sulk, or mention Gary in any way. He would also be the one to call people out on their junk, should he see fit. He could not give unconditional support. If someone was clearly being stupid he'd have to say so, and he would not be allowed to mediate in any arguments whatsoever. (Remember the Boy Meets World episode where they try this? Okay, well, Turner is Topanga.)

As for Me, I would not be allowed to be judgmental. I'd have to be the Turner--or the opposite of Turner, I guess--and be completely supportive no matter what. There would be no gossiping, no condescending, and no witty side comments.

(Of course, what I say here doesn't count--trust me, folks. You don't want to read me sans catty barbs, it's not pretty.)

Dwight agreed to do the social experiment at his house, even though it meant exposure to Mrs. Brown, which would make the challenge harder for him.

Nick wasn't going to know about any of this. We were going to use him as our litmus test to see how we were doing.

Of course, everyone thought I would be the one to fail.

DWIGHT: Kevin, no way are you going to be able to bite your tongue for an entire night.
BRIAN: I'll be outlasting you. I know that much.
TURNER: My lack of being supportive starts now. Kev, you're going down.
SCOOTER: You don't stand a f**king chance...Um...We don't have to start now, right?

I decided I might even the playing field a little.

Patrick is someone I've known for awhile. We actually went out on a date or two about two years ago and somehow we've managed to stay in touch even though he comes as close to utterly repelling me as anyone I've ever met.

He's liberal, but in an obnoxious and uninformed way that makes other liberals look bad. He's always speaking before he thinks, which causes him to say the dumbest one-liners you've ever heard. His only redeeming quality is that he's incredibly handsome--built like a tank.

I decided he'd be the perfect candidate for the dinner party.

When I arrived at Dwight's house, I was the last person there. Things were already off to a rousing start. Mrs. Brown and Dwight had gotten into a fight right before the first guests arrived. Of course, nobody knew that until Mrs. Brown walked downstairs from her bedroom, said a few things to Dwight that would have made Alec Baldwin balk, and then returned to her place on the second floor.

Asked by Brian and Turner what happened, Dwight only responded by smiling forcefully and saying:

DWIGHT: I'd rather not talk about it.

Game on, bitches.

At first, the only person having trouble with Patrick being my date to the dinner party was Scooter. Normally he'd pull me aside seconds after my arrival and say something to the effect of--

"I'd like to strip him down and make him call me General Harder."

But tonight he just sipped his water and nodded at me as if to say--

"Bring it, whore."

I smiled back with my look that says:

"It's already been brought, skank-o."

I have to say, I could give Gabrielle Union a run for her money.

When we all sat down to dinner, Christopher was the first to start an incendiary conversation.

CHRISTOPHER: ...I mean, why does Barack have to represent every black guy? I mean, why does there have to be only one black candidate? Then he wouldn't have to be the 'black guy.'

I noticed Dwight chewing extra hard on his roll. Brian also looked like he wanted to make a comment but instead he just asked me to hand him the salad. Nick was already picking up on the change in his buddies.

NICK: Why are you guys being so quiet tonight?
ME: We're not. We're just enjoying the food.
BRIAN: It's delicious, Dwight.
DWIGHT: Thank you. I made it myself right before my mo...um, before...just before you guys got here and I nearly had a nervous breakdown.
ME: And what, perchance, would be the cause of that nervous breakdown?
DWIGHT: Probably the gnono you gave me.
ME: What?
DWIGHT: Brian can't be sarcastic, but I can.
BRIAN: No fair!
NICK: Huh?
ME: Inside joke, inside joke.

The quiet descended upon us again.

PATRICK: Personally I think Barack would be an amazing President. Think how pissed off the people in the South would be. F**kin' hicks.

Thank you, Jesus. I love winning, and you love it when I win, and I know this.

I thought Dwight was going to choke on his bread.

CHRISTOPHER: I'm with you. I can't stand those people.
NICK: Come on, Christopher. 'Those people?' You sound like...
CHRISTOPHER: What? The enemy.

He laughed this obnoxious laugh and Brian proceeded to butter his bread with an almost too-forceful vigor.

I've never seen people enjoy bread so much, let me tell you.

PATRICK: Not only that, but the guy is hot. I mean, is there anything hotter than a black guy in bed?
SCOOTER: I really don't think that's appropriate dinner conversation.
NICK: I'm sorry. Did you just say that? I mean, I agree with you, but did you just say that?
PATRICK: Lighten up, man. God, Kevin, you didn't tell me we were going to have prudes her tonight.
TURNER: That's funny. He didn't tell us he was bringing a giant dick with ugly shoes.

We all looked at Turner.

TURNER: Sorry, was that not supportive?
NICK: Turner, you feeling all right?
TURNER: Actually, that felt kind of good.
NICK: Okay...
TURNER: By the way, Scooter--I don't know what barn you were raised in, but I don't need to see the food physically going down your throat, so you can close your mouth when you eat. Kevin, tomorrow we're going shopping and I'm going to buy you something that an obese man couldn't fit it, and Brian, I had more sex than you did when we lived together even though I tried to downplay it and say we didn't.

We ran out of bread.

NICK: Turner, where is all this coming from? Is it the break-up?
TURNER: I...don't want to talk about that.
CHRISTOPHER: I know how you feel, man. Every time a guy breaks up with me it puts me in a bad mood.
TURNER: Then you're probably...

I noticed him trail off.

ME: What was that, Turner?
TURNER: I said, um...

He seemed to be debating something.

TURNER: I said I just realized I lost a bet I made.

I had him in the bathroom within minutes.

ME: What are you doing?
TURNER: I can't do this.
ME: Why not? You were on a roll!
TURNER: I can't just attack Christopher. He doesn't know about the challenge. Besides, I don't want Nick being mad at me.
ME: So you're out now?
TURNER: Yeah, I'm out.
ME: Oh, fine.

When we went back into the dining room, Dwight was yelling something up the stairs at--I presumed--his mother.

DWIGHT: I DON'T CARE HOW LONG YOU WERE IN LABOR WITH ME, I AM NOT VOTING FOR JOHN EDWARDS! I'D VOTE FOR STALIN FIRST JUST TO PISS YOU OFF! YOU'RE CRAZY! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN A BAG LADY!

As soon as he stopped yelling, he looked around and say very calmly.

DWIGHT: I think I've lost that bet too. Let me get the potatoes.

Nick asked what bet we were talking about, but we dodged the question. Brian, Scooter, and I were the only people still left in it. Luckily, Patrick was about to up the ante for me.

PATRICK: So Brian, you used to live with Scooter and Turner?
BRIAN: And now I live with Nick.
PATRICK: And you didn't get any of them in the sack?
SCOOTER: Not true. Brian and I dated before he met Kevin.
PATRICK: Good to know he's not completely asexual.

He laughed at this, but I could see Brian about to bubble over. Apparently Scooter thought now would be a good time to eradicate some of his competition.

SCOOTER: Oh, I wouldn't say that. The sex in our relationship was mostly asexual.

Hey, you couldn't call it a crass statement. It was practically Wilde. Scooter even threw in a hearty "A ha ha" to go with it. That sent Brian over the edge.

BRIAN: To be honest, during our relationship, Scooter was outsexual.
CHRISTOPHER: Outsexual?
PATRICK: What does that mean?
BRIAN: It means that while we were together, he was out having sex with everybody else.

I almost spit out my Sprite.

BRIAN: And I, ladies and gentlemen, am also out of that little bet--and gladly.
NICK: What bet is this?
ME: A bet that only Scooter and I are now in.
SCOOTER: Tarry ho, matey.
ME: What are you a fencing pirate?

With that, Scooter decided to up my ante.

SCOOTER: Christopher, pray tell, what do you think about the show Heroes?

Son-of-a-bitch.

CHRISTOPHER: I'm sorry, do people actually watch that?

Most of the country, actually, you doozer.

(Yeah, I called him a Fraggle character, whatever.)

CHRISTOPHER: I've tried watching that show, but I just don't have the attention span. Besides, I think it's ridiculous to expect to do serialized television that intricately. People aren't smart enough to follow it.

You mean you're not smart enough to follow it--where is the goddammed bread? I want more bread!

CHRISTOPHER: And of course it just adds to the pop culture fascination with superheroes--since people are too chickenshit to confront their own realities.
PATRICK: I'm with you, man.

All right, now even I was getting sick of Patrick. I took him in the kitchen with me under the pretense of helping Dwight bring out dessert. I was about to end this competition.

ME: Patrick, do me a favor.
PATRICK: Sure, what?
ME: Seduce Scooter.
PATRICK: Excuse me?
ME: Just enough to get him to say something dirty.
PATRICK: I don't get it.
ME: It's that bet we keep talking about. I bet him that he wouldn't say anything sexual all night. Normally he would have already made several advances on you.
PATRICK: So he's not a big prude?
ME: Far from it.
PATRICK: Awesome, he's really hot. Oh, sorry, I forgot I'm your date.
ME: No, it's okay. Go with that instinct. Just get him to say something lewd.
PATRICK: No problem-o.

Hey, I never said I was going to fight fair.

Back at the table, Old Brian and Old Dwight were going back and forth with Christopher.

DWIGHT: The woman is a pariah!
BRIAN: Forget Hillary! He just called me Whitie!
NICK: Brian, I call you Whitie sometimes.
BRIAN: You say it lovingly. He said it like he was about to sick the black panthers on me.
CHRISTOPHER: Are you calling me militant?
TURNER: Guys, let's try to calm down.
DWIGHT: Kevin, will you please say something?
BRIAN: Shut this guy down.
ME: Guys, who are any of us to judge him?

They kept at it while my little sub-plot developed in front of me.

PATRICK: Scooter, do you like chocolate on your dessert?
SCOOTER: Um...yeah, I guess.
PATRICK: What about on...other things?
SCOOTER: Other things?
PATRICK: Yeah, you know...strawberries, brownies, stomachs?
SCOOTER: Stomachs?
PATRICK: Nice, flat stomachs.
SCOOTER: Uh...Kevin, I think your date is being a little--
ME: Hey, I'm not one to look down on people for their promiscuity. I say live and let live. Let Patrick do what he wants.
SCOOTER: You mother--
ME: What's that?
SCOOTER: Nothing, dear friend.

Patrick leaned over the table.

PATRICK: You know what I really want? I want you to tell me what you would do if I climbed under this table right now.
SCOOTER: Um...I would...just be very...upset.
PATRICK: Really? Oh, okay then. Guess I won't--
SCOOTER: For the love of God, get under the table, unzip my pants, and start @#^$$^ my #$%# until I #$#! THERE! ARE YOU HAPPY? IS EVERYBODY HAPPY? I'M A HORNY MOTHERF*#$*#! I'M A GUY! I'M NORMAL! I'M OUT! OUT, OUT, OUT!

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you do it.

NICK: I still don't understand what the hell is going on.
ME: Don't worry about it, Nick. I think this'll be the last dinner party we have for awhile.
EVERYBODY: Amen.

When Christopher went to get Nick's coat, I cornered him.

ME: Christopher, you and I need to talk.
CHRISTOPHER: I knew it. I knew you were going to be all over me as soon as we were alone. Come on, Kev. Take what you need, but be quick. Look, we got a coat pile right here.
ME: I'd throw up in my mouth but I don't have much time. You need to end things with Nick--definitively.
CHRISTOPHER: Not unless you're going to give me a reason to.
ME: How's this for a reason? I've had my cell phone on record in my pocket just now. I've got you soliciting me on tape.
CHRISTOPHER: Whatever. Nick knows how I am.
ME: But does everyone else? Because a photo of you mixed with this audio on youtube could certainly start some fires.
CHRISTOPHER: Not going to stop me from getting laid though, is it, Kevin?
ME: Maybe not, but I've got enough energy in me to drag your name through so much mud even you won't be able to figure out what's true and what's not about you.
CHRISTOPHER: All that just because you want me away from your friend?
ME: My friends are me. They're an extension of my personality, the same way I am of theirs. If they screw up, so do I, and vice versa. You are a blight on whatever you attach yourself to, and you will not attach yourself to me in any way. That's why you have to go.
CHRISTOPHER: Wonder how Nick would feel about that.
ME: I don't care how he would feel about that. When someone's family, you don't bite your tongue and let someone run in front of a train. And my friends are my family. Not to mention I'm Italian. Ergo, I don't plan on letting anyone ruin their lives as long as I'm around and they're close to me. I only shut my mouth when I don't care enough about someone to open it. When it comes to the people you love, you speak up.

At the end of the night, Nick and Christopher took off (big surprise) and Patrick and Scooter decided to go out for a drink (even bigger surprise). That left Turner, Dwight, Brian and I to hang back and laugh at how stupid we'd been all night.

Maybe friends should be like Friends--a little bit on the predictable side.

FRIEND: And which friend would you be?
ME: I think I'd be Ross.
FRIEND: Is that the one that never gets laid?
ME: I'm pretty sure they all got laid a lot.
FRIEND: Oh then honey, you need to find another analogy.
ME: Thanks.
FRIEND: Just promise me no more f**king dinner parties. These long entries hurt my head after a night of drinking and illegal fireworks.
ME: Fireworks?
FRIEND: Don't ask. I'm trying to mysterious and unpredictable.
ME: You're kicking someone out of your bedroom as you're talking to me right now, aren't you?
FRIEND: It's like you've got a f**king crystal ball tucked in your closet behind the ugly shirts.

Good news: I think Christopher got the picture. A mere two days later he and Nick were broken up. I didn't ask for the details. I just wanted to be supportive.

Hey, you have to learn something from these social experiments, don't you?

Date #82: You're Gonna Be a Star, Kid

2007-05-02T09:18:00.000-07:00

It's every gay boy's dream to have his life turned into an F/X TV series.

Often I watch Nip/Tuck and think--

I could totally be Christian's long-lost gay son.

But alas, some dreams just aren't meant to come true...

...or are they?

I had been set up on a date by my friend Elliot from New York. One of his friends from the city was going to be in Rhode Island, and they wanted someone to hang out with while they were in town.

Without any hesitation I offered to show the guy around my home state. Luckily now that the weather's a little bit warmer I have the beach option open to me.

The guy's name is Jeff.

BRIAN: A New York boy. How exciting.
ME: I know. I'm thinking of giving him a tour of the pumpkin patch.

Brian and I were doing lunch at the N.C. (Nordstrom's Cafe) while we discussed my date that night with Jeff.

BRIAN: Is he a native New Yorker?
ME: I don't know. I didn't ask.
BRIAN: Native New Yorkers are hot.
ME: Geography has nothing to with whether someone is hot or not.
BRIAN: Spoken by someone whose never been to Italy.
ME: Touche.

I called Elliot back to get the scoop on Jeff.

The Rundown:

- From L.A. originally
- Majoring in Business at N.Y.U.
- Total Entourage type
- Name Drops
- Sexy in a Cocky way

Hey, why not? Who doesn't love Drama?

I met Jeff downtown. I thought we'd walk around Providence a little before decided on a primary date location.

He was on his cell phone when I approached--stereotypical but true--however he did shut it of immediately upon seeing me.

JEFF: Hi, you must be Kevin.
ME: I must be.
JEFF: It's so great to meet you. I feel like I already know you.
ME: Wow, Elliot told you that much about me?
JEFF: Um, it's a little more...Why don't we walk and talk?
ME: Sounds good.

We started our trek around the city headed toward the mall. The night created the perfect atmosphere--an ideal mix of warm and comfortable.

JEFF: So the truth is, I know way more about you than you think.
ME: Okay.
JEFF: I'm actually...a fan of the blog.
ME: Ugh, I can't believe Elliot told you about the blog.
JEFF: He didn't. Well, not intentionally. He posted one of your entries on his facebook--
ME: Technology always kills my cover.

He laughed and we made our way past the new G-Tech building.

JEFF: I have to admit; I love it. It's funny, it's honest, it's--
ME: It's also against my policy to date guys who know about it.
JEFF: Why don't you think I kept my mouth shut when I asked Elliot if he had any Rhode Island friends?
ME: So did you even need to come to Rhode Island for--
JEFF: Aside from the fact that I wanted to hang out with you--No.

Kind of flattering, not gonna lie.

ME: You know you could have just asked Elliot for my phone number and told me what a genius I was over the phone.
JEFF: True, but I wanted to propose something to you in person.
ME: Oh yeah, like what? And don't say a three-way, I know you crazy New York boys and your ways.

We were now standing in front of the Cheesecake Factory.

JEFF: Actually, I was going to ask how you'd feel about being filmed. About having the blog filmed, I mean.
ME: Filmed?

Did he just say filmed?

We got a table at the C.F. and Jeff proceeded to lay out why he came here in the first place.

JEFF: My major is marketing, as I'm sure Elliot told you, but coming from L.A., I have a large interest in the film industry.
ME: Okay.
JEFF: Anyway, I've been trying for the past couple of years to finance a film project along with my buddy Marc.
ME: Like a movie?
JEFF: We hadn't really decided on what we wanted to do. We were going to wait until the right piece of work came along.

I have always been told that I'm a piece of work.

JEFF: We think the blog would be perfect.
ME: In terms of actually...doing it?
JEFF: You got it.
ME: But I'm not even finished with it yet.
JEFF: But you'll be done by your 23rd birthday in July right?
ME: Um...yeah.
JEFF: And we would start filming in August.
ME: This is just kind of...how are you going to fit my entire blog into one movie?
JEFF: Kevin, if they can fit a 600 page Harry Potter book into two and a half hours, we shouldn't have any problems with your blog.

This was crazy. I mean, was he really saying that he was going to film the blog? Like a movie? Like a tv show? Like Nip/Tuck and Flip This House?

Okay, maybe not like Flip This House.

ME: And what would happen once you filmed it?
JEFF: We would shop it around. That kind of thing.
ME: This is just a little unexpected.
JEFF: Look at it this way, worse comes to worse, you have a cinematic adaptation of your work. How many people can say that?

Yeah, how many people can say that?

JEFF: So what do you think?

I didn't know what to think. This was amazing, but was this guy even legit? What does 'shopping it around' mean? Who would play me in the movie?

I needed to talk to someone who knew about the blog and get an unbiased and sobering opinion.

SCOOTER: We're going to be in a moooovie...

Clearly the wrong choice.

SCOOTER: In a mooooovie--
ME: Scooter knock it off! I needed someone to give me the pros and cons about this.
SCOOTER: Man, I am going to get laid so much once this happens.
ME: It might not happen.
SCOOTER: Of course it's going to happen. Why would you say no to this?
ME: Because I don't even know this guy.
SCOOTER: But your friend knows him right?

I was already on that. Elliot said that Jeff and his friend Marc were actually considered to be an upcoming force to be reckoned with on the college film scene in New York. They had already done several smaller works that had been featured at different film festivals around the city. He said if they wanted to adapt the blog, I couldn't be in better hands.

SCOOTER: Cha ching!
ME: Now wait a minute, I'm not even done with this thing yet. How can they want to make a movie out of this when they don't even know the ending yet?
SCOOTER: Kevin, your blog is clearly a romantic comedy. It's going to end well.
ME: Tell that to the guy whose 18 dates away from finishing and still hasn't met anyone that can be considered soulmate material.
SCOOTER: Charlie, Andy, Turner--
ME: Okay, okay--
SCOOTER: --Me?
ME: Hahahahahahaha... Thanks I needed that.

Now that the "charade" date was out of the way, Jeff and I decided to have a full-on business date. We went to Paragon and I even wore my Adrian Grenier shirt--I don't think he noticed since the shirt doesn't do much in the way of making me look like Adrian Grenier (although I do look somewhat Aquaman-ish).

JEFF: So I talked to Marc, and we're prepared to get an agreement in writing.
ME: You don't think it's a little odd that you're paying for an imcomplete piece?
JEFF: Why? Should I be worried that after over 80 entries you're going to just stop randomly.
ME: No, but I just thought I'd be fair and ask.
JEFF: Thanks, but I'm all right with looking out for myself.

Now I was going to dig a little deeper.

ME: So what do you think you'd have to change to make the story...um..work for your purposes?
JEFF: That's actually something I wanted to discuss with you. The blog is great, and I love some of the recurring characters--Brian, Turner, Scooter--
ME: You mean my friends?
JEFF: Right. They're fantastic. I just don't think they work.
ME: Excuse me?
JEFF: The story isn't about a guy trying to make friends. It's about him--
ME: Me.
JEFF: You, right, you. It's about you looking for love.
ME: And, in looking for love, I happened to find some friends.

I could tell that this was something Jeff didn't like having to go over with me. He must have known it would be a sore spot.

ME: I just don't see how you can cut all those guys out.
JEFF: We do need to streamline, Kevin.
ME: Streamlining is one thing, but completely altering--
JEFF: It's just the way things happen.
ME: Well it's not going to be the way things happen to me.
JEFF: Look, you were the one who pointed out that it's incredibly hard to adapt something this large--
ME: And you gave me that Harry Potter speech. But in Harry Potter, you don't see them cutting out Ron and Hermoine!

This was getting a little more heated than I would have liked, but I was sticking to my guns. My friends are a big part of this blog, and I'm not going to let them just be evaporated--regardless of why or where they're being evaporated.

JEFF: This is small potatoes, Kevin. There are much bigger things you might want to think about.
ME: Like what?
JEFF: Like who you end up with once this is all over.
ME: I told you, I don't know if that'll happen. I might end up with just my now non-existent friends--not that that would be a totally bad thing.

Wow, did I just say if I end up alone it might not be a bad thing? Was that really me?

JEFF: Marc and I think it would be really terrific if there was a twist at the end.
ME: I'm sorry, but aren't you student filmmakers?
JEFF: Yeah, why?
ME: Because you sound like cliched studio types from MGM or something in the 30's.
JEFF: We just want to do justice to your work.
ME: My work is a just a blog about dating. It's not Gone with the Wind.
JEFF: Then why are you being so protective of it?
ME: Because it's my life.
JEFF: Can I at least tell you my idea?
ME: Sure.
JEFF: We want you to end up with Roque. You know, the crazy guy from Date--

And we're done.

I listened, but at the same time I wasn't listening at all. As great an opportunity as this was that I was about to pass up, I'm a theater guy--and I have a motto--

FRIEND: Don't f**k with the magic.
ME: Exactly.
FRIEND: And don't let some grubby little hoo-hah wannabe touch that blog. I already own the exclusive film rights and any sequels that might feature other characters, including and especially Friend.
ME: Sorry, I wasn't aware.
FRIEND: I'm talking to people who are talking to people. Things are being talked about.
ME: So you think I made the right choice?
FRIEND: You should have told that hack to f**k off--he might have appreciated it since he's such a fan. Other than that, you did fine.
ME: Thanks, Friend.

Of course, it still would have been nice to have become famous and one day hear Julian McMahon say:

Tell me what you don't like about yourself.

But for now, surprisingly, I'm all set.

Date #81: The Oreo Cookie

2007-04-30T15:51:00.000-07:00

Don't ask me why I thought this could work.

I have absolutely no clue.

The fact is, at Paye's last dance class, I was...propositioned.

Turner and I had done our presentation--a rousing swing dance to "Too Darn Hot," which got the class way more riled up than the already cliche tap dance done to "Candyman" by the Snobby Gays.

Unexpectedly, the Snobby Gays were actually nice to Turner and I after our presentation.

SNOBBY GAY #1 (VINCENT): You guys did a great job.
SNOBBY GAY #2 (DREW): We're having a party at our place later if you want to come.

Turner and I politely declined, but after a little more thought, I wondered if maybe I did want to check out la casa de snobby homo.

After all, I'm all about new experiences.

BRIAN: So how was it?
ME: It was... Well...

I was telling Brian about the party the next day at the N.C., but I was finding myself to be a little hesitant when it came to going into certain details.

There were a lot of people at the party, and when I got there it seemed like everyone was talking about me. It wasn't like they were being mean--on the contrary, they all wanted to find out as much about me as possible. Vincent and Drew were parading me around the room like I was their new show dog. I noticed, though, that whenever we'd walk away from someone I'd hear a laugh or catch the person checking me out as I walked away.

BRIAN: Weird.
ME: Yeah, at first. Then I overheard one of their friends talking and I suddenly realized what was going on.
BRIAN: Which was?

It was as I was coming out of the bathroom. There were two guys in Drew's room laughing about Drew and Vincent's "new boy."

GUY #1: He's cute.
GUY #2: It's weird.
GUY #1: It is weird, but as long as it's going to be weird, at least he's cute.
GUY #2: How long do we have to keep pretending it's not abnormal?
GUY #1: It's not as if we have to acknowledge the fact that he's the filling in the oreo cookie. They never call them that. They just call them--
BOTH: --Our new friend.

I went back into the bathroom to digest what I'd just heard.

The filling in the oreo cookie?

BRIAN: Oh my God. The Snobby Gays want you to be their third?
ME: I know, it's crazy.
BRIAN: So what are you going to do about it?
ME: I'm going on a date with them tonight.
BRIAN: Kevin!
ME: They asked me out! I didn't know what to say.
BRIAN: You say, 'No thank you. I would not like to be the ham in your sandwich.'
ME: The monkey in their middle.
BRIAN: The beef patties in their Big Mac.
ME: Okay, that's enough.

The worst part was definitely going to be telling Turner about the date. I was supposed to have gone with him to Dwight's house for a movie night.

I went over Dwight's to give him the bad news in person.

DWIGHT: What do you mean you're backing out?
ME: I'm sorry, but something came up, and you know I don't like early Tarrantino.
NICK: You're the only person I know who can't sit through Reservoir Dogs.

Shudder...Shudder...Stuck in the middle with you...Shudder...

Nick, Scooter, and Dwight were already assembled for a double helping of Tarrantino. They were even considering watching both parts of Kill Bill in succession if they got themselves drunk enough for it.

As much as I love me some Uma, experiences like these are one in a million.

When I explained to the boys what was up, they were all pretty much in agreement.

DWIGHT: I think it's dumb and perverse.
ME: You're jealous because it's not you, aren't you?
DWIGHT: You're damn right I am.
NICK: That makes two of us. Since I told Christopher to take a hike, I haven't gotten so much as a kiss by--
SCOOTER: I could help you out--
NICK: Try it and you're getting yourself a root canal with a paring knife minus the anesthesia.
SCOOTER: Ooookay. Kevin, can I talk to you for a second?

Scooter pulled me into the kitchen under the pretense of giving me head (that's the only pretense he ever uses.)

ME: Yes, Scooter?

He looked at me for a second with something like pride in his eyes, and then hugged me.

ME: Um...okay.
SCOOTER: My little boy is finally becoming a manwhore.

I shoved him aside.

ME: I am not. I just...want to see what they have to say.
SCOOTER: This is going to make for such good bloggage. I might even mention it in my blog.
ME: Would you stop with that? I'm doing this for the experiment.
SCOOTER: Fine. Just make sure you get them in bed so you have something good to close with, okay?
ME: Scooter!

At that moment, Turner came into the kitchen.

TURNER: So, you're blowing us off for the Snobby Gays?
ME: They're not that snobby.
TURNER: Of course not. Now that they're trying to get in your pants.
ME: Turner, nothing is going to happen.
TURNER: That's what they all say.
SCOOTER: I'm going to peace out of this convo. K-Dog, be the filling--be it with pride.
TURNER: I'm going to kill you.
SCOOTER: Later!

After Scooter left, Turner just looked...hurt.

ME: Look, I don't know why you're taking this so personally. I know we kind of hated them, but maybe they're not so bad.
TURNER: I guess lately I've just been disappointed with the gay community as a whole. A community where guys can leave their boyfriends who they've known for years and then not return their phone calls. A community where two assholes can take on a third boy like they're buying a pet or something. A group of people where stuff that in the normal world would be looked down upon is somehow looked at as being cool and spontaneous when really it's just a sad reminder that none of us is ever going to be happy.

And with that, he left the kitchen.

I looked at the pots. I looked at the pans. And I thought to myself...

Fuck it, I'm going.

The gay community may be in shambles, but I can't fix it tonight by sitting in a Republican's living room watching Jackie Brown.

Vincent and Drew were making dinner for me at their place. I got there about ten minutes after I left Dwight's. Drew gave me a big hug as soon as I walked in. He's the smaller of the two, and a little on the immature side. Vincent seems a little more seasoned. He was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner when I arrived, and he came out with an apron on to give me a full-on mouth kiss.

Okay, I thought, here we go.

Vincent smiled at me after the kiss. Drew was smiling too. This was a little...odd.

VINCENT: Drew, go change into that thing you brought today. I think Kevin will like it.
DREW: Can do.

He disappeared down the hall, presumably into their bedroom.

VINCENT: Come help me set the table.

Vincent had made some sort of noodle dish along with a tomato salad and chicken a la something (sorry I'm not what you would call a culinary master). While I helped him, we chatted a little.

VINCENT: So, have you ever done this before?
ME: Set a table? No, actually. My mother used to just prepare a trough.
VINCENT: You're funny. But I'm serious.
ME: Gone on a date with a couple? No.
VINCENT: Are you nervous?
ME: Are you planning on giving me a pop quiz.
VINCENT: If you're good...

We finished setting the table just as Drew emerged--wearing nothing but a pair of red boxer briefs and a mischievous look on his face.

ME: I'm sorry. Was I overdressed for dinner?
VINCENT: Drew and I just like to work up an appetite before we eat.
ME: But won't the tomatoes get cold?

They both laughed at that, and Vincent proceeded to kiss me on the neck. That must have been the green light for Drew who started kissing me. I was trying to remember that this was not supposed to just be a glorified threeway, but...you really would have needed to see him in the red boxer briefs to understand why I had a hard time being good.

My shirt was off and it looked like I was about to fill the oreo when Vincent whispered something in my ear.

VINCENT: I'm so happy we invited you.

It was the emphasis that he put on you that caught my attention.

I tried to respond, but I just kept moaning until finally I got out:

ME: As opposed to inviting?

Drew heard me and responded with...

DREW: Your friend--the depressing looking one.

It took me until my zipper was half down and Drew was on his knees before I realized they were talking about Turner.

ME: Um, not to...stop the party, but...Turner's not depressing.
VINCENT: Please, Kevin. He's been nothing but morbid for the past--
ME: His boyfriend just broke up with him.
DREW: Surprise, surprise. He's goofy looking.

This is the point where I put all that aside and just keep going with the flow...

...But I couldn't.

Turner's one of those people who I loved the second I saw him, and I can't just stand there while some Yankee Doodle and his Dandy strip me naked and insult one of my best friends.

Still, I was going to try to be civil. I casually pushed Drew back a little and smiled.

ME: Um, Turner's been going through a lot lately and I think maybe if you just--
VINCENT: Kevin, look, be glad he's goofy looking and a downer, otherwise you wouldn't be here right now.

That kind of lit the firework, so to speak.

I zipped my zipper, put my shirt back on, and went to grab my coat from the hall.

DREW: Did I miss something?
ME: Sorry, guys. But I have other plans tonight.
VINCENT: Like what? And before you answer that, keep in mind that we both did gymnastics for most of our lives.

I could hear Scooter in my head begging me not to leave...

ME: I guess it's just...not worth it.

That got the intellectual response I expected:

VINCENT and DREW: Huh?

And I was out of there.

FRIEND: I can't even talk to you right now.
ME: It was the right decision. They were bashing Turner.
FRIEND: I don't care if they were bashing your head against a rock! You were already halfway there!
ME: They were assholes.
FRIEND: Assholes in red boxer briefs!
ME: They were catty.
FRIEND: So am I! I mean, I do it in a classy, tasteful way, but still--
ME: For once, I didn't want to let my d**k do the thinking.
FRIEND: I don't know who you are anymore.

Oh well, he'll get over it.

I went back to Dwight's, but mostly everyone was sleeping except Turner and Nick. Dwight and Scooter passed out before getting to see Uma tango with Lucy Liu.

Part of me was expecting Turner to ignore me, but instead he lifted up the blanket he was laying under and I got in next to him and proceeded to eat some of his popcorn.

TURNER: Date ended early?
ME: Yup.
TURNER: How come?
ME: You were right.
TURNER: Sorry what?
ME: I'm not saying it twice.

He gave me a kiss on the cheek, and we watched Uma.

Not a bad way to spend a Saturday night.

Date #80: The Investment

2007-04-24T10:33:00.000-07:00

If there's one thing people have forgotten how to do in dating, it's invest.

And I mean that in the most literal sense of the word.

When I was a kid, I always had crushes on people I considered investments.

For example, while everyone fell for Justin from N'Sync, I was more interested in Lance. He was never anybody's "favorite," but at the end of the day while everyone else was fighting over Justin, I could picture myself cuddling up to my little investment Lance on his tour bus in between stops in Toledo and Des Moines.

Laugh if you will, but who knew one day my boy band crush would turn into a man-sharer?

I'm not much for chasing--I'd much rather invest in someone who's an easy get and then watch them turn into a full-fledged catch.

BRIAN: You don't think that sounds a little...calculating?
ME: It's no worse than being shallow and going after someone for how they look.
BRIAN: Yes, you go after them for how they're going to look.
ME: And help them along the way.

I was explaining my idea to bring back my childhood philosophy of investing (even if I didn't know that's what it was at the time) over lunch with Brian at the N.C.

After all, it seemed to make so much more sense. Instead of going after cocky guys who know they're hot and treat everyone like a name in a little black book, I could go after guys who would actually appreciate me and then steer them towards hotness.

BRIAN: Help them to become hot--ergo a shallow reason--
ME: That's only after I've spent awhile with them while they're--
BRIAN: Fugly?
ME: No! While I've gotten to know them and fallen for their personalities.
BRIAN: It's basically just a shortcut to finding a hot guy with a good personality without having to go through all the hurdles.
ME: And what's wrong with shortcuts?
BRIAN: Fair enough, but how do you tell if someone is an investment or not?

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Chase.

I met him in Paye's class, and right away I spotted a potential winner.

Although, Turner wasn't on board right away.

TURNER: Are you kidding me?
ME: Trust me, that guy is a hottie.
TURNER: Yeah, underneath the sweat, the fat, and excess body hair.

I was at Turner's house for a "Cheer-Up Movie Night." We were going to be doing a double viewing of Mermaids and Moonstruck.

When I brought up Chase, he balked. I think the break-up with Gary has made him a little meaner than usual. It's not like him to bring up somebody being overweight or over...um...hairy.

ME: He's an investment, Turner.
TURNER: Are you Rachel Leigh Cook all of a sudden? You're going to doll him up?
ME: No, because that would make me Freddie Prinze Jr. Get your analogies right. If the girl's getting made over it's She's All That. If the boy's getting made over it's Drive Me Crazy.
TURNER: You're a sad little clown.
ME: I'm aware.
TURNER: And just so you know, there is no way you can ever make Chase appealing in any way to anybody.
ME: Oh really? Well, I'll tell you what. I'm bringing him to karaoke tomorrow, and I bet by then he'll already be looking pretty good--even to you.
TURNER: Go to it, Henry Higgins.

Now, let me just come out and say it. I am not the type of person who can give anyone pointers on dressing or style or anything like that. I feel just fine in an over-sized plaid shirt and sneakers. I do, however, know what it takes to get someone from a 3 to a 33 with just a little fine-tuning.

I had Chase meet me at the mall in front of the Gap. The mistake would have been taking him to Abercrombie or Banana right off the bat. He needed to lowered into the pool slowly, not thrown headfirst into the deep end.

He showed up looking...well...like a fixer-upper. But he also looked thrilled at the prospect of getting asked out. He told me I was the first guy who ever invited him anywhere. If there's one thing I love, it's someone with appreciation.

CHASE: So what are we doing here? Do you need to do some shopping?
ME: Actually I thought it might be fun to goof around, maybe try some stuff on--
CHASE: For me you mean?
ME: If you don't want to--
CHASE: No, that's cool. I've actually been meaning to buy a new outfit.

See that? He was already going for the gold.

After a mere fifteen minutes, we had already found Chase a pair of jeans and a shirt that took him from hobo to Bohemian starving-artist-who'll-do-you-on-his-blank-canvas-and-make-you-like-it. It was awesome.

ME: Just so you know, you're wearing that to the party tonight.
CHASE: Sure, sounds great.

Now about that hair.

I'm lucky enough to have an aunt who owns her own salon. I usually don't stop in that much since I hate using product in my hair and whenever I show up gel-free she screams at me as if I've just tattooed my face and married an Islamic terrorist.

Luckily today, I was done up for the party so I just got a big hug and a lot of parading.

AUNT PATTY: Look at how handsome my nephew is. Cover of GQ this one.
ME: Oh, hardly Aunt Patty.
AUNT PATTY: You should have modeled.
ME: For who? Stevie Wonder?
AUNT PATTY: You're stunning!
ME: I'm scrawny and I have awkward features.
AUNT PATTY: You're an Italian sculpture! Who's your friend?

I presented Chase to Aunt Patty.

ME: We need a little help.

After an hour, Chase's hair had that great "messed up for thirty dollars" look. I tried to talk him into getting a wax, but he wasn't feeling it. Still, we had made a lot of progress today.

When we arrived at karaoke, I instantly knew that I had made some good choices. Brian's mouth dropped open. Nick mouthed the word 'Dammmnnnnn.' Scooter tried to slip Chase his number at least five times.

The best, by far, however, was Turner. He handed me five bucks.

ME: What's this for?
TURNER: Consider me Colonel Pickering. You won the wager.

I almost broke out into "You did it!" from My Fair Lady--forgetting how that scene ends.

Granted, I didn't exactly get my slippers thrown at me, but by the end of the night I could tell Chase was feeling a little uncomfortable.

We stopped at the all-nite Bickford's before heading home. I decided to broach the topic of how the evening went.

ME: Did you have a good time tonight?
CHASE: Would you have had a good time tonight?

HERE'S YOUR SLIPPERS! AND MAY YOU NEVER HAVE A DAY'S REST IN THEM!

ME: I'm sorry if it seemed like I was--
CHASE: Parading me around like a show-horse?
ME: Something like that, yeah.
CHASE: Would you have been that mortified bringing me in there as I was?
ME: No, it's not that. It's just...

It's just that, yes, I would have been mortified. I'm an awful, awful person.

ME: I guess I just wanted to show my friends that when you invest in someone, you get something out of it. That there's more to life than just going after the hot guy with nothing to him.
CHASE: Yeah, it's better to alter someone into a hot guy, because personality can't stand on its own.

Wow, the view's kind of sucky when you're three inches tall.

ME: I'm sorry, Chase. I don't know why I thought this would be a good idea. I've had people try to make me over before and I didn't like it, but I just though this was different because no matter what I would be fine with you.
CHASE: Just not fine with how other people were with me.

And that pretty much closed out the evening.

After I brought him home, I let my head land on the steering wheel of my car while I tried to remember when it was exactly that I became the typical gay man.

FRIEND: Stop moaning. The boy needed a guiding hand to guide him to some laser hair removal and you gave it to him.
ME: I think lately I just...Well, I'd like to be the guy with the hot boyfriend. I've never been the guy with the hot boyfriend.
FRIEND: Honey, when you're the guy with the hot boyfriend, then you're the ugly guy in the relationship. Trust me, you don't want to be that guy.
ME: I wish there were friendlier labels. Like, 'the smart one' and 'the funny one.'
FRIEND: You don't get off that easy. People like to tear down relationships. That means if you're in one, you get a nasty label. Like 'the one who wears bad shoes' or 'the one who needs to look into Crest white strips.'
ME: Would I be either of those?
FRIEND: You would be both of those.
ME: Hey!
FRIEND: I come from a place of love. If you don't like it, then f**k off.

I showed up at Chase's apartment the next day wearing one of my trademark plaid shirts, hideous pants, and those ugly shoes Friend was talking about. Chase looked slightly amused but also skeptical.

CHASE: Can I help you?
ME: I was wondering if you'd like to walk around Thayer Street with both of us looking awful and not caring?
CHASE: I'm not sure I want another date with you, Kevin.
ME: Who said anything about a date? Maybe I just want a liberating experience--sans gel.

He laughed, and we started out on our walk. It was beautiful out with the sun warming the air and just a little bit of wind to keep things cool.

And I have to say, the wind goes through your hair a lot easier when there's no product in it.

Just thought I'd put that out there...

Date #79: Get Me Drunk

2007-04-19T22:12:00.000-07:00

Let me start this off with a disclaimer.

Actually, a few disclaimers.

I have never been drunk in my life.

I have never even had more than one drink at a time--ever.

The total number of drinks I've had in my lifetime?

Four.

So please understand that when I made the following offer to Turner, I was truly trying to cheer him up, since most of my friends hate the fact that I don't drink.

ME: Get me drunk.

We were sitting in his room as he waited for Gary to call. Gary had been at a friend's house for the past couple of days, and had not made contact aside from an e-mail saying "I need some time."

In his absence, Brian, Nick, Scooter, and myself had all taken up residence in the House of Heartbreak. At the moment, Brian was in the kitchen attempting to make brownies so that Turner could lick the bowl (because how could that not cheer you up?) while I was wowing him with a long-assumed-lost VHS tape of mine recently found in a box of stuff from a long-ago move--a recording of an entire night of SNICK.

For those of you who don't remember SNICK, be ashamed. Be very ashamed.

Saturday Night Nick was a tradition for me during childhood. It was sort of like TGIF except Nickelodeon style. There were four shows, and over the years they changed order and there were many substitutions. I, however, own one of the collector's editions--a full line-up of the four original SNICK shows.

It started with Clarissa Explains It All, followed by Ren and Stimpy, then a little SNL for the tween set with Roundhouse, and closed out like any good Saturday evening should be--with the original, scary-as-hell Are You Afraid of the Dark?

As enthralled as I was, I could see it wasn't doing much for Turner.

TURNER: I'm sorry, Kevin. Even Clarissa can't help me right now.
ME: I can do my Lori Beth Denberg 'Vital Information' impersonation.
TURNER: Old school Nick just isn't going to cut it.

This was scarier than when I pledged 248 hours to the Big Help and thought they were actually going to come after me if I didn't do them.

Brian came in with the bowl of brownie batter.

BRIAN: How's everything going?
ME: He watched Roundhouse and still felt depressed.
BRIAN: Should we try oral sex?
TURNER: Don't bother. I can't have sex when I feel this lousy.
BRIAN: That's funny. I once dated a guy who could only have sex when he felt lousy.

Looking at Turner, I felt so bad for him. Gary was more than just a live-in boyfriend to him. He was a long-time friend. If this relationship really was over, then Turner was going to need a lot of support.

TURNER: Part of me just wants to get drunk, but I have to work tomorrow morning.

And for some reason, the first thought that popped into my mind was: I don't.

ME: I don't.
TURNER: Don't what?
ME: Have to work tomorrow morning.
BRIAN: Good for you.

And that's when it hit me.

ME: Get me drunk.

They both looked at me as if I had just started speaking Cantonese.

BRIAN: Pardon?
ME: I'm going out with Andy again tonight, but he said he feels like a night in, and he already knows about the whole...thing with...you know.
TURNER: You can say his--
ME: Gary, he knows about Gary. And...it might...cheer you up.

And before he even spoke, I knew that it would. I could see Turner's lips start to upturn.

TURNER: Kevin, you don't have to do that.
ME: I'm going to have to do it eventually anyway. You can't go through you entire life without getting drunk. It's a rite of passage I should have experienced years ago.
BRIAN: I think it's a fantastic idea!
TURNER: You would.
BRIAN: Turner, he's doing this for you. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.
ME: Wait!

I knew if I didn't set boundaries, Brian would have me out on 295--tipsy and hitchhiking while he filmed the whole thing from an off-ramp.

ME: Here are the rules. I want a controlled environment.
BRIAN: We can stay right here. It'll be more fun that way anyway.
ME: Like a rat in a maze.
BRIAN: Exactly.
TURNER: That's fine with me. I don't want to go out and potentially run into Gary.
ME: Two, I hate the taste of alcohol, that's why I never drink in the first place--
BRIAN: --And cause you're a Lame Larry.
TURNER: Brian!
ME: So if you're going to get me drunk, you're going to need to make my drinks fruity and strong.
BRIAN: Just like how I like my men. No problem.
ME: And three, if at any point I start to act crazy, you are to send me to a room and lock the door. I've never been drunk. I don't know how I'll act, but just in case I go nuts, I don't want to make a total fool of myself.
BRIAN: But that's the whole point!
TURNER: It's a deal, Kevin.
ME: Great. Then let's go get some hooch.

Of course, it wasn't going to be just Andy, Brian, Turner, and I. Where would the amusement be in that? Once Brian put out the call that Kevin Broccoli was getting drunk for the first time, my cell phone wouldn't stop ringing.

VOICEMAIL #1: Kevin, this is Dwight. I'm bringing some of the best stuff in mother's secret stash. This woman has stuff back when liquor used to be mixed in bathtubs while the prohibition police patrolled the streets.

SOUND OF MRS. BROWN'S VOICE IN THE BACKGROUND: Ha ha, Dwight--inaudible, inaudible--think you got conceived?

DWIGHT: See you tonight.

VOICEMAIL #2: Kev, it's Paye. Turner says you're getting drunk. I'll give you a year free at the studio if you let me come.

VOICEMAIL #3: (From Scooter) Getting wasted is only half the fun. The other half is drunken sex with Scooter. Seeeeee-ya there!

All in all, we had about twenty people at Turner's house. What was supposed to be a nice, night in turned out to be an all out kegger--minus the keg of course, we're gay guys not frat boys.

At a certain point, I think everyone forgot that me getting drunk was the big event of the evening, which was just fine by me. Turner seemed to be having fun, and that was my main goal.

Of course, Scooter didn't forget the mission of the evening.

SCOOTER: Try this. It's all pineapple. You won't even know what's tapping you until you're tapped.

So I drank...and drank...and drank.

I was very responsible, however. I made sure I ate beforehand, and I paced myself. Who knew how much I could handle? And to be honest, I really didn't feel anything at all.

Andy was nice enough to monitor me for most of the evening.

ME: So is it tacky that I've invited you to watch me get drunk?
ANDY: Incredibly tacky, but also quite enjoyable.
ME: Is it weird that I don't feel anything?
ANDY: No. It would be common for a drunk person not to believe they're actually drunk.
ME: But I'm not acting any different.
ANDY: Not everybody does.

Scooter came over again.

SCOOTER: This is called a Scoot Over.
ME: Why is it called that?
SCOOTER: Because everyone I make it for ends up hung-over in bed next to me.

When I had taken my drink, he walked away. Andy gave me a look.

ANDY: You have an odd assortment of friends.
ME: Oh, we're not technically friends. He's just someone I make bad decisions with once in awhile.
ANDY: Gotcha.

Did I just say that? I wouldn't normally say that. Was that the liquor talking?

ME: What kind of underwear do you have on?
ANDY: Excuse me?
ME: You're a boxer briefs guy, aren't you?
ANDY: Yeah, most guys are.
ME: They're blue, aren't they?
ANDY: How did you know that?
ME: Blue boxer briefs are easy to spot. Fun, sweet, good-humored.
ANDY: What about other colors?
ME: Red boxer briefs mean you're shy but kinky. Black mean you think you rock in bed, and you might but more likely you might not--
ANDY: What about stripes and stuff?
ME: Someone who puts that much thought into their underwear is clearly getting laid a lot.

Was I waxing philosophic on underwear?

ANDY: So I'm fun, sweet, and--
ME: Good-humored. That's why I like you.
ANDY: I like you, too.
ME: Cool.
ANDY: Yeah.

Silence.

ME: Can I see the blue boxer briefs?

Cut to me making out with him in Turner's bedroom and reaching my hands down--

Well, you get the picture.

We didn't do much, because about five minutes in Scooter burst into the room and laughed.

SCOOTER: The Scoot Over still works.
ME: It's not getting me into bed with you.
SCOOTER: The night is still young, my little friend.

As Andy and I made our way back into the kitchen, I heard sobbing coming from the bathroom. I knocked on the door and heard Turner say 'Come in.'

I went into the bathroom to find him curled up in the bathtub holding his cell phone like it was a miniature infant.

ME: What's wrong?
TURNER: I tried calling Gary. He answered, said he was busy, and then hung...hung...
ME: Hung up?

And then came more sobbing.

I managed to console him enough to get him out of the bathtub and back into the kitchen where Dwight, Nick, and Brian were playing Be Honest.

Be Honest is maybe one of the most dangerous games any group of people can play. It basically involves getting drunk and then asking your friends to answer honest questions about you. I've seen people come to blows over Be Honest. I've seen relationships broken up over Be Honest. So why do people play it?

I should probably mention that I've also seen an astounding number of people get laid because of Be Honest. That's why.

BRIAN: Nick, be honest. How big is Nick Jr.?
NICK: Bigger than your Nick Jr.
DWIGHT: How would you know?
NICK: I've seen him walk from the bathroom to his bedroom after a shower.
BRIAN: I take cold showers. There's shrinkage.
NICK: You'd have to take showers in the refrigerator for it to shrink that much.

I tried to dissuade them from continuing with the game, but they ended up roping me into it.

NICK: Kevin, be honest--
ME: I'd rather not be.
NICK: You've had some type of sexual contact with most of your friends.
BRIAN: Not with me.
NICK: Fine. Then we'll exclude you.
ME: I'm so not answering whatever question this is leading to.
DWIGHT: You have to!
ME: Ugh...
NICK: Out of all of us here tonight, whose the best kisser?

Oh Christ...

ME: Absolutely not. No way.
BRIAN: Just answer.
DWIGHT: C'mon.
ME: No way.
TURNER: Kevin, come on, we're just talking about kissing.
BRIAN: What are you freaking out for?

At that moment, Andy entered the room.

ME: I think that would be tasteless to say with Andy here.
ANDY: Don't use me to get off the hook. I want to hear, too.

Scooter came into the room with another drink.

SCOOTER: This one is a 'Strip Poker.'
NICK: Kevin has to answer the question first.

I had no choice.

ME: Fine, fine, fine. The best kisser is--

There are three answers here:

1) The honest answer--sadly, Scooter.
2) The appropriate answer--Andy, of course.
3) The right answer

ME: Andy is inelligible because we still have lots of future kissing to do, which means Turner is the best kisser here tonight.

Turner smiled--and everyone went "Awww..."

SCOOTER: F**k this. It's time to party.

Paye had everyone move the coffee table and somehow we all ended up doing the Electric Slide in the living room. Now, you may ask, how do twenty people do the Electric Slide--a dance known for needing lots of space--in an average-sized living room?

Very drunkenly.

I saw more people falling on each other and laughing and then getting right back up to Boogie Woogie Woogie then I had seen at my Aunt's Drunken 80's Wedding back when I was the tiny ring-bearer.

That was, interestingly enough, the first time I had ever tried wine, when I swiped some off the head table. Of course, I'd been making up for lost time all night.

After another hour or so, the guests left, and some of us stayed behind to help clean up.

It was in the kitchen with Scooter, Dwight, Andy, and Nick that I finally revealed my apparent high tolerance for alcohol.

ME: I got to tell you guys, I feel great right now. I could run a marathon. Must be my Irish blood.
SCOOTER: Or the fact that I've been giving you virgins all night.

Suddenly, they were all laughing.

ME: Huh?
DWIGHT: Turner told us not to really get you drunk.
NICK: He didn't want you to have your first drinking experience to be under these particular circumstances.
SCOOTER: I wouldn't have gone along with it, but then I realized it might be more fun to see you think you were drunk.
ME: You're kidding me. I haven't had a drink all night?
DWIGHT: Well, you have, just nothing with alcohol in it.
ME: But the Scoot Over, the Strip Poker--
SCOOTER: The Strip Poker was Sprite, apple juice, and three packs of equal.

Well, so much for that.

Andy left about twenty minutes later. I gave him a kiss at the door and told him I'd call him tomorrow. He's turning out to be quite the sweetie.

I was the last person to leave, and when I did I was so tired I might as well have been drunk.

FRIEND: That's like saying 'I might as well have been pregnant.' You ain't having no baby.
ME: Sorry for the disappointing twist ending.
FRIEND: Why didn't you just spend the whole party singing folk songs and watching a Raffi concert?
ME: The party was for Turner. He needed friends around him.
FRIEND: All I need after a boy leaves is a martini and a mop.
ME: You're just mad because you can't do the electric slide.
FRIEND: Bitch, please. I will ooga booga booga your ass off any dance floor.
ME: At least my drunken virginity is still intact.
FRIEND: Unlike the rest of you.
ME: Cheers to that.

I went to say good-bye to Turner, and I found him stretched out in his bed looking a little weepy-eyed, but a little peaceful too.

I got in bed next to him and wrapped my arms around him.

TURNER: Can I ask a favor?
ME: No, I'm mad at you. You kept me sober all night.
TURNER: You'd be regretting it tomorrow if you had actually drank that much, trust me.
ME: What's the favor?
TURNER: Stay with me tonight.
ME: Turner--
TURNER: I didn't say sleep with me, just...actually sleep with me. I don't wan tto be alone.
ME: Well...
TURNER: Just until I fall asleep.
ME: Deal.

I stayed where I was until I could feel his body relax--it was the nicest feeling--even better than being drunk...

...I'd imagine.

Smile

Date #78: The Do-Over

2007-04-08T17:33:00.000-07:00

I had gone on a date with a guy named Andy.

It went well, and I was pretty much finished with the blog (being this one) and was putting the final touches on it at Scooter's house.

It was then that I made the mistake of running upstairs to get a drink. When I came down, Scooter was sitting at the computer shaking his head.

ME: Something wrong?
SCOOTER: This is the date?
ME: 'Hey Kevin, do you mind if I read this?' 'Yes Scooter, I do actually.'
SCOOTER: So this is it?
ME: It's not completely finished.
SCOOTER: It's not good.

Now, usually I try not to listen to reviews, especially from Scooter, but this time I was a little perturbed.

ME: I think it's a great entry.
SCOOTER: What's it about?
ME: It's about a date that I went on that went really well. Plain and simple.
SCOOTER: It did, huh?
ME: Yes.
SCOOTER: What did you do on it that you've never done on any other date?
ME: Well--
SCOOTER: What do you know about this person? I mean, really know about this person?
ME: Um, I...
SCOOTER: See? It has no substance.
ME: Since when did you become my editor?
SCOOTER: Your last entry was a flashback with a crazy rant, the entry before that was against foreign people--
ME: It was not against--
SCOOTER: EH EH EH! This blog needs a shot of Scooter. Nobody's even commenting on anything.
ME: The people don't always comment.
SCOOTER: They do when you give 'em something to comment about! Your blog needs a do-over.
ME: A do-over?
SCOOTER: It needs to be Scooter-ized.

I re-read what I written...and believe it or not...he was right.

I decided to Scooter-ize.

ME: Hi, Andy?
ANDY: Kevin?
ME: I know it's bad form to call the same night as the date--
ANDY: Oh, that's fine. I had a really nice time. I'm glad you called.
ME: I did too, actually, but...um...
ANDY: Is everything--
ME: I think I can do better.
ANDY: Huh?

Twenty minutes later I was outside his front door.

ANDY: This is kind of new for me.
ME: Me, too. I usually don't do do-overs. I hope you don't think I'm crazy.
ANDY: Truthfully, it's kind of nice to see a guy want to make the best impression he can. Although you really didn't do all that bad the first time.
ME: Yeah, but I didn't do spectacular either.
ANDY: So now you're going to do spectacular?
ME: That's what I'm shooting for.

Since it was around 11pm at this point, there were a limited number of places to go. I decided on the supermarket.

ME: This'll be the plan.
ANDY: Let me hear it.
ME: I need to do a little food-shopping anyway--
ANDY: I'm running errands with you?

He said it with a laugh and a smile. He was already much cuter than he was earlier in the evening.

ME: Don't go knocking running errands. This is me letting you into my life.
ANDY: Ah, I see. I see.
ME: Besides, I'm going to pick up some stuff to make you a great late-night do-over date snack.
ANDY: Really?
ME: That's right.
ANDY: And what compromises a late-night do-over date snack?
ME: I'm not sure yet but it's probably going to involve chocolate, fruit, and whatever liquor you have back at your place.
ANDY: I'm liking the sound of this already.

Once we were at the supermarket, I decided to try learning as many interesting things as I could about Andy.

ME: Any hidden talents?
ANDY: I can still recite the entire original cast of the New Micky Mouse Club.
ME: What do you have it tattooed somewhere on your body?
ANDY: Nope. I learned it when I was seven and I've just never forgotten it. I'm really good at reciting things.
ME: What else can you recite?
ANDY: State capitols. Important dates in the American revolution. 'We Didn't Start the Fire.'
ME: Harry Truman, Doris Day--
ANDY: Red China, Johnny Ray--
BOTH OF US: South Pacific, Walter Winchill, Joe DiMaggio.
ME: Anyone can do that.
ANDY: Yeah, but I can do it backwards.
ME: Bullshit.
ANDY: I can't take it anymore, Rock and Roller cola wars--

And he proceeded to do the entire song backwards.

I'll admit...I got a little turned on.

We picked up some food necessities and then made our way back to his house, but on the way there, I got an urgent text from Turner.

TEXT FROM TURNER: I NEED YOU NOW--MAJOR DISASTER--SOS

I tried calling, but he wouldn't answer. Instead he sent me another text.

TEXT FROM TURNER: TOO IMPORTANT TO PHONE--COME HERE!

ME: Um, Andy, would you mind if we made a little detour?
ANDY: Is there a problem?
ME: It sounds like my friend might be having a meltdown.
ANDY: Wow, I get to meet your friends on the first do-over date?
ME: Lucky you.

When I arrived at Turner's apartment, Brian and Nick were already there sitting in front of the television watching a Top Design rerun.

BRIAN: I'm still pissed that Matt won.
NICK: I thought he had good style.
BRIAN: Yeah, but is his wife blind? The man is gayer than me at an Urban clearance sale.

I didn't see Turner anywhere.

ME: Is he dead?
NICK and BRIAN: No.

I heard yelling. It sounded like Turner and Gary.

ME: Fight?
NICK: Colossal.
BRIAN: Epic.
ME: And you boys were invited to watch the fireworks?
NICK: They didn't start out as fireworks. At first it was just family trouble.
BRIAN: We came over to offer moral support.
ME: And how did that go?
NICK: Carisa is such a baby sometimes.
ME: Ask a stupid question.
BRIAN: As soon as we got here Gary and Turner started fighting.
ME: About what?
NICK: We don't know.
ME: I'm so confused.
ANDY: Me too.
ME: Oh, this is Andy by the way. This is Brian and Nick.
BRIAN and NICK: Hi Andy.

It was then that Turner came out of the kitchen.

TURNER: Thank God.

He came over and gave me a hug. Then he noticed Andy.

TURNER: This is--?
ME: Andy. My date from this evening.
TURNER: Wasn't that earlier on?
ME: It was, yes. I decided to do a do-over.
NICK: A what?
BRIAN: I'm over it and I don't even know what it is yet.

I could see that Turner looked really upset, so I went into the kitchen with him. Apparently Gary had gone into the bedroom to cool down.

ME: What happened?
TURNER: A fiasco. A complete and total fiasco.
ME: Worse than the blue plaid shirt I own?
TURNER: Almost as bad as that. It was a disaster.
ME: Proper nouns, Turner. Try proper nouns.
TURNER: I introduced Gary to my parents.

I was pretty sure the air got sucked out of the room at that exact moment.

ME: You did what?
TURNER: It seemed like the appropriate thing to do. We are living together after all.
ME: They've never met him before--even when you knew him from--
TURNER: Kevin, they've never met anyone I've dated.
ME: Oh...
TURNER: Yeah.
ME: How did it go?
TURNER: It ended with my father calling Gary a 'fairy' and walking out of the house.
ME: Well, your Dad seems like--
TURNER: That was after Gary called him a grade A asshole.
ME: He had to make it Grade A, huh?
TURNER: I don't even know how it all started. It just escalated and escalated...

I sat him down at the kitchen table.

ME: So you and Gary got into a fight?
TURNER: Yeah.
ME: You blamed him for what happened?
TURNER: No! It was definitely fifty-fifty, and my Dad is really hard to get along with. I was arguing with him because he doesn't want them over here anymore and I want to try again next week.
ME: Are you serious?
TURNER: What? This has to work out! I can't have my boyfriend and my father at each other's throats! We have to try again.
ME: Don't you think you should--
TURNER: No. We have to try again.

Guess I'm not the only one who believes in do-overs.

Turner decided he was going to stay by the door all night until Gary agreed to talk to him, so Brian, Nick, Andy and I left.

Back at Andy's place, I explained the situation as I cooked him some scrambled eggs.

ANDY: That's rough.
ME: Yeah, I'm glad Turner and I never dated long enough for me to be the one meeting the parents.
ANDY: So you and Turner dated but you're still friends?
ME: Yeah, we were friends before we dated. Actually I think all my gay friends and I have dated at some point or another.
ANDY: It's good that you can keep people in your life like that.
ME: I'm sentimental when it comes to people.
ANDY: So when you were Turner's boyfriend--

I stopped him.

ME: Whoa, whoa. We weren't exactly boyfriends. The term 'boyfriend' to me is a pretty big deal.
ANDY: So how many 'boyfriends' have you had?
ME: As of last July, I had three. James, Darren, and Mike--if you don't count the one week I spent with another James in high school, who was also my first kiss.
ANDY: Are you still friends with all of them?
ME: James from high school I talk to once in awhile. I'd say we're still friendly, yeah.
ANDY: What about the big three?
ME: James number two went off to UPENN and started having gay sex with anything with legs, Darren's sexual habits are even worse and includes bathhouse trysts, and Mike--Well, Mike was too good for me and now I think he knows that and so he doesn't really keep in touch.
ANDY: What did you like about each of them?
ME: Odd question.
ANDY: You value the term 'boyfriend' so much. Why did each of them deserve it?

We took our scrambled eggs into his kitchen area and sat down.

ME: James was--Well, I was his first everything. First kiss, first time, first gay date--everything. And this was after I'd gone on a string of bad dates with a lot of guys with too much experience in all walks of life, and I wanted a little innocence.
ANDY: And he provided that?
ME: Yeah, he did. He was funny too. He could make me laugh harder than anyone. I still find myself doing or saying things that he did.
ANDY: I do that too, sometimes. Carry on things about exes that I liked by doing them myself.
ME: Like what?
ANDY: Like singing 'We Didn't Start the Fire' backwards.

I laughed.

ANDY: What about Darren? What did you like about him?
ME: I remember we started dating in the summer. I used to walk all over the city with him when it was nice out, then we'd go back to his room and--he used to smell fantastic.
ANDY: Wow, TMI.
ME: No, nothing weird. Just...like this great cologne. And he was just so...not innocent. Which I actually did want after James when I realized that innocent guys don't stay innocent and they don't stay in long relationships their first time out.
ANDY: And Mike? The perfect one?
ME: He always looked happy to see me.
ANDY: Sounds easy enough.
ME: You'd be surprised how hard that is for some people.

We talked about his old boyfriends, my career ambitions, his thoughts on culture, my thoughts on tomatoes (yuck), his family, my family, his childhood, where I see myself in ten years, what his favorite movie is (The Wizard of Oz), what my least favorite word is (flick), his favorite season (fall), and my favorite kind of dog (tie: Saint Bernard or Daschund).

We talked until around four in the morning and then I went home--not before kissing him good-bye though.

ME: And that was pretty much it.
FRIEND: Why didn't you talk about taking each other's clothes off?
ME: Because that would have led to--
FRIEND: A do-over? You can only hope.
ME: I actually liked doing this. It's like revising a paper for school. The second draft is always better.
FRIEND: Just don't make it a habit. Get in, get out, and get the job done.
ME: You have that philosophy with a lot of things, don't you?
FRIEND: I like that his name is Randy. It sounds bouncy and open-minded.
ME: And your name sounds?
FRIEND: It's Latvian for 'man who makes the jaws drop.'

I called Scooter the next day to compliment him.

ME: Your suggestion actually worked. I had a great time.
SCOOTER: Great. But before you take the kid out again, you might want to take Turner out for a drink.
ME: Why?
SCOOTER: He and Gary broke up this morning.

Um...

Wow.

Date #77: Old Wrongs

2007-04-06T13:35:00.000-07:00

So Travis wasn't the only one from my past that wanted to make a reappearance.

I got a call about a week ago from a guy named Blake.

A few years ago, I was sort of...well...Blake's replacement in the group of friends we had back then.

BRIAN: 'Splain.
ME: Blake was in the closet, and I was fresh meat. The boys decided to subsitute one for the other.
BRIAN: A challenge for a challenge.
ME: Exactly.

Right after I got the call, I headed off to lunch at the N.C. to bounce the idea of a date with Blake off Brian.

BRIAN: So how did it happen?
ME: It actually was a little too...not complicated.
BRIAN: Huh?

Fall 2003

It was at a party at Teddy's place. Blake had gotten really drunk and was trying to get into everybody and anybody's pants. Even though this was only my third time hanging out with the group, I could tell that normally this wouldn't have been a problem--except now they were all putting on their pristine personas for my benefit. Travis kept brushing Blake off with a laugh, but Teddy and Allan looked downright disgusted.

Finally at around the same time we were all going to crash, Allan spoke his verdict.

ALLAN: Blake, why don't you let Teddy drive you home?

Blake was a little confused. This was supposed to be one, big happy gay sleep-over.

BLAKE: Why go home? I thought I was staying here?
ALLAN: We think you might do something you regret if you stay here.
BLAKE: That's what I'm counting on.

He laughed and moved to kiss Allan, but Allan dodged him and sent him flying into the chips table. That was when Allan exploded.

ALLAN: God, you're such a fucking idiot!
BLAKE: What's your problem?
TEDDY: Our problem is that for someone who's in the closet to everyone but the people in this room, you sure do get awfully affectionate once the liquor hits you and the heteros go home.
BLAKE: That's fucked up.
ALLAN: No, what's fucked up is that you won't go out in public with all of us because you're afraid one of your Helen-Keller-wannabe ex-girlfriends will see you and the secret that's no big secret will officially not be any kind of a secret at all.
BLAKE: Dude, you know my situation.
ALLAN: Yeah, and I'm kind of sick of having to deal with it. Anyone else?

Teddy, just like a true follower, raised his hand. Travis did the same. But, of course, Allan couldn't leave me out of it. The replacement had to have the final vote.

ALLAN: What do you think, Kevin? You're younger than Blake and already you have more balls than he does. Don't you think he should head on out?

I tried to make it sound diplomatic.

ME: If he's not comfortable, maybe he should just go. I mean, he's really drunk and--

That was all Blake needed.

BLAKE: Fine. But I'm too fucking drunk to drive.

Allan smiled.

ALLAN: Teddy can take you home.
TEDDY: Fuck that. I'm plastered too. Let him walk.

Lovely.

Allan then looked at me. And I remember thinking, no he's not going to make me do that. Not after what I just did.

ALLAN: Kevin, you drive him home and then come back, okay?

And that was that.

ME: That being the longest, quietest, most awful drive I've ever done.
BRIAN: Then you went back, right?
ME: Yeah, then I went back.
BRIAN: Sometimes it feels like junior high never ends.
ME: Oh, it ends alright. It ends tonight.
BRIAN: What happens tonight?
ME: Tonight I apologize to Blake for what I did. I'm going out to dinner with him.
BRIAN: He asked you out?
ME: Yup. Said he was in town and that he'd love to see me.
BRIAN: Wow. Guy must be pretty forgiving.
ME: Which just makes me feel all that much worse.
BRIAN: Then it's good that you'll get everything squared away, right?
ME: Right.

The place we went to for dinner was very nice. I don't know why, but I definitely went for the formal wear. I figured an apology would seem nicer if I did it while wearing a tie. Blake looked good after all this time, but still a little edgy--then again, while he was sober he always did seem kind of anxious to not be--sober. When he was sober he looked like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin and walk away from it.

BLAKE: So I bet you're surprised I asked to see you tonight.
ME: I figure you're just a way bigger person than I was four years ago.
BLAKE: Nah, I just thought I'd let bygones be bygones.
ME: That's really nice of you, Blake.
BLAKE: So how's everything been going?
ME: Okay. I graduated college.
BLAKE: Good for you!
ME: Yeah, now I'm just trying to figure out my future.
BLAKE: That's the phrase you use now, huh? 'Figure out my future.'
ME: Huh?
BLAKE: When I graduated it was 'Sorting out my life.' Like a life is a closet, you know?
ME: Interesting choice of words.

He laughed. Good sign.

BLAKE: It's just that after college usually you're all--
ME: Yeah, very true. I guess I'm not in a big hurry.
BLAKE: Good for you.

It was then that my cell phone started going off like crazy. It was Travis. He hadn't called me in a few days, so I thought maybe something was wrong.

ME: I'm really sorry. I usually don't take calls--
BLAKE: It's no big deal. I have to use the men's room anyway.

So when he left the table, I answered the phone.

ME: Travis, what's up?
TRAVIS: Tell me you're not with Blake right now.

Uh...weird. I didn't tell him I was going to be seeing Blake. I didn't think he'd take it too well.

ME: How did you know?
TRAVIS: Because he called me a couple days ago.
ME: Why?
TRAVIS: Looking for a hook-up. Why else?

Na-who-what-what?

ME: I'm out to dinner with him right now.
TRAVIS: He took Teddy out to dinner last night. I read it in his away message.
ME: So--wait--I don't get it.
TRAVIS: Must have been craving some old-time action.
ME: Oh come on.
TRAVIS: Why not? We're probably still in a very small group of people who know that he likes guys.
ME: Travis, it's been four years.
TRAVIS: So I take it you don't know that he's engaged?

Oh Christ...

Blake was walking back over to the table.

ME: Gotta go.

I hung up the phone. Blake sat down.

ME: I have to ask you something.
BLAKE: Okay.
ME: Just answer 'Yes' or 'No.'
BLAKE: Okay.
ME: Did you bring me here tonight to try and get me in bed?
BLAKE: Kevin--
ME: Yes or No? Kevin is neither one.

A dramatic pause.

BLAKE: Yes.
ME: Did you try that with Teddy last night?
BLAKE: Yes.
ME: Did it work?
BLAKE: Yup.
ME: Fuck off.
BLAKE: Are you done?
ME: No. Are you engaged?
BLAKE: Yes.
ME: Do you have any shame at all?
BLAKE: Nope.

Wow.

ME: So what was all this then?
BLAKE: Me settling the score. The boys tossed me out like I was nothing. Then lo and behold a couple years later when you're all down and out living on the east side and doing nothing with your lives, banging a closet case suddenly seems appealing again. At least it did to Teddy and Allan--Travis still seems to be the one with some dignity.
ME: That makes two of us.
BLAKE: Oh, but you weren't going to be sex for revenge. I just wanted to see what it is I got replaced with, you know?
ME: Let's just say you should thank me. Those little mean girls were hell to deal with, especially Allan, and you should have warned me on the drive back to your house that night instead of pouting because your fuck buddies cut you loose.
BLAKE: I knew you'd find out one day--once they used you up like they used me.
ME: You wanted to be used; I didn't.
BLAKE: Oh, didn't you? Were you really as stupid as all of us thought you were?

So basically there's no good answer to anything he has to say.

BLAKE: I guess dinner is over.
ME: Oh, it's not over yet. I came here to apologize, and I'm going to, because even though you turned out to be an asshole, I ended up turning into an asshole myself that night, and I want to apologize for that.
BLAKE: Apology accepted and disregarded.
ME: Fine, but let me also add this--if you go through with this marriage, I'll find out about it, and I'll also find out where it is you and your lovely new wife are going to be living, and then if I find out you're putting out calls for hook-ups, be it online, texting, or otherwise, I'm going to send your wife a nice little note attached to a card with a divorce lawyer's name on it.
BLAKE: Don't you fucking threaten me.
ME: Don't you act like I could have more to lose than you could. I'm sick of every gay guy I know going out with guys in the closet and acting like it's okay to let them hit 21, and 24, and 28, and 30 and still not come out! And be proud like they've landed a catch because they got to you--not before you had sex with half the state--but before you actually took responsibility for yourself! Look at what I got guys! A guy completely in denial who won't hold my hand in public! Ain't he a catch?! Hell, even I've done it! And that's just the gay people, forget everyone else! I'm so sick of this entire country giving you fucking self-haters a free pass to do whatever you want and then sit idly by while you make mockeries out of the rest of us by getting married and having kids and then fucking everybody up that you come into contact with once you finally get the balls to do what you should have done at age eighteen.
BLAKE: Guess we can't all be as brave as you, huh, Kevin?
ME: I'm not brave. I'm a fucking chickenshit--biggest one you're ever going to meet. But getting drunk every night just to be able to bed some catty male slut and then go home and cry in my pillow? That takes a lot more than bravery. That takes a level of self-deception I just don't have, Blake. And the way I see it, if you're brave enough to have sex with a guy, you should be brave enough to say you're gay. Gay guys haven't been getting the shit kicked out of them for decades just so guys like you can come along to get a blowjob whenever you want it and then pass yourself off as straight. You shouldn't be able to use the equipment until you join the gym.
BLAKE: Thanks for the grandstanding. One last thing. How many times did Allan have to fuck you before he told you to hit the road?

I would have thrown water on him, but that seemed way to childish. Instead, I took the wine he was drinking and flung it on his clearly expensive shirt.

ME: Good luck with the wedding. And remember, be good.

And with that, I left.

FRIEND: Honey, I got some on me and I wasn't even there! That was fierce.
ME: Guys like him are a dime a dozen. Especially since it seems like in the gay community, gay guys run to self-loathing closet cases the way teenage girls run to bad boys.
FRIEND: There's nothing more satisfying than having sex with a guy right before he marries a woman.
ME: Have you been listening to a word I've said?
FRIEND: I'm sorry what was that? I was making an album on facebook.
ME: The worst part was hearing he slept with Allan.
FRIEND: Because...?
ME: Because it means Allan's back in town.

After I left the restaurant, I convinced Travis to go to karaoke with me.

As we were entering the bar, I ruminated--

ME: We had a fucked up group back then, didn't we?
TRAVIS: Yes, we did. You got a better group now.
ME: Yeah, I got a much better group now.

Upon entering, I could hear Nick and Turner singing the beginning of "September" by Earth, Wind, and Fire.

Remember kids, you did then what you knew how to do, and when you knew better, you did better. That's M.A. for you, and she's friends with Oprah, so you know she's on the ball.

Date #76: The Language Barrier

2007-04-05T13:36:00.000-07:00

It's amazing what you'll try to make work when you're dealing with a decent smile.

Eduardo and I met while I was helping him on a project for his college course in Contemporary American Drama. He had come into the library a couple of times, and I mostly just took him as shy. It wasn't until we were on our first date that I realized what the major problem was going to be concerning the two of us actually making a connection.

ME: He can't speak English.
BRIAN: Que?
ME: Exactly.

I was filling Brian in over Greek salads at the N.C.

BRIAN: I don't understand. He's in college and he can't speak English.
ME: He can speak well enough to get by, but he's not fluid by any means.
BRIAN: And you never noticed this before?
ME: He was always really quiet before!
BRIAN: He's hot, isn't he?
ME: Well of course!

I was already feeling stupid enough as it was.

BRIAN: And he does well in school?
ME: Brian, he goes to Brown. They love the international flavor there.
BRIAN: So how bad was it?

It was pretty...quiet.

ME: So...how's your course going?
EDUARDO: Is going well. Miller, brilliant, yes.
ME: Yes, Arthur Miller is quite brilliant.
EDUARDO: My father--like the men.
ME: He likes men?
EDUARDO: Willie. He likes Willie.
ME: Well, I believe that's a choice.
EDUARDO: Uh...?
ME: Wait--Willie Loman? Like in Death of a Salesman?
EDUARDO: Yes! Salesman.

Great. I just insinuated that his father was gay, when really he was complimenting Miller's masterwork.

BRIAN: So for the most part--
ME: We just kind of sat there.
BRIAN: Sounds fun.
ME: It's not like he didn't try.

At several points throughout the dinner attempts were made that sounded something like this:

EDUARDO: You go places much?
ME: I like going out occasionally. Yeah.
EDUARDO: For fun, dancing, music?
ME: All of the above.
EDUARDO: Lots of boys finger you?
ME: Um...no....
EDUARDO: Um...point...point you out. Must say you are good looking.
ME: Yes, I am. I mean, they--sometimes--not often, no.

This was like being on a date with Borat--with less chest hair, thank God.

BRIAN: So you got a fun story out of it. No big loss.
ME: Yeah, it actually would have been kind of funny, had it not led to him trying to get in my pants.
BRIAN: Ohhh...

I drove him back to his dorm where he insinuated that he would like to greet my Willie Loman.

EDUARDO: You come stay over. I give you great time.
ME: That's okay. I think it would be a bad idea.
EDUARDO: We take off this. We take off that.
ME: How about I just take off? How does that sound?
EDUARDO: I finger you out as good time.
ME: No, no fingering. Enough with the fingering.

After another minute or two, he got the hint and I went home.

BRIAN: Good for you. I can't understand those guys who see who are dating foreign guys that can barely form sentences.
ME: I'll tell you why. It's because really hot gay guys will not date guys from this country.
BRIAN: What are you talking about?
ME: It's like they reach this level of hotness and they become too hot for American gay guys. Like Nate Berkus--
BRIAN: The Oprah guy?
ME: Yeah! That guy he was dating? Foreign.
BRIAN: Also passed away in the tsunami, Mr. Sensitive.
ME: I'm just saying. How do you do that? How do you date someone you can't even talk to?
BRIAN: It's amazing what a little foreign flavor will convince you of.

I don't know why I get ticked off about stuff like that. Then again, I feel like there's a limited number of decent guys in the American Gay Dating Pool--we don't need to open it up to other countries just yet. There's barely enough to go around as it is.

ME: Can you believe that?
FRIEND: What I can't believe is your close-mindedness. Love knows no language.
ME: You're saying I should have tried harder?
FRIEND: I'm saying the only phrases you needed to teach him were 'Watch the teeth' and 'Loosen up your grip.'
ME: I think sleeping with someone who'd have trouble getting through a citizenship test might be sinking to a new level of sluttiness.
FRIEND: Speaking of new levels of sluttiness, I've been into Russian guys lately. Do they have those mail order catalogs for gay boys?
ME: That you're going to have to Yahoo for yourself, my friend.

With every passing date, my preferences become more and more clear.

Newest preference: Speak the same language as me.

Wow, I've been hanging out with Dwight too much. This entire entry makes me sound way too conservative.

I'll have to make up for that next time...

Wink.

Date #75: Top to Bottom

2007-04-01T14:46:00.000-07:00

Wow, I'm three quarters of the way done with the blog.

Being the celebratory person that I am, I decided to celebrate entering April by taking some of the boys out to dinner.

Brian, Turner, Nick, and I all got dressed up and had ourselves an official Boys Night Out (use the term loosely if you like). The plan was to eat then go out to the club. The conversation at the dinner table turned to me and my latest crazy offer.

NICK: I would have gone.
ME: To London? I didn't even know the guy!

It just goes to show the difference between boys and girls. My friend Ali read the entry and IMed me to make sure I hadn't been stupid enough to run off to another continent with some boy I barely knew, and all the gay guys I knew were calling me to make sure I was on the first plane out of town. Common sense be damned amongst the gays.

TURNER: You don't take risks, Kevin. You're very much in your comfort zone.
ME: There's nothing wrong with having a comfort zone. That's why it's called a comfort zone. It's meant to be stayed in because it's so...comfortable.

Granted, I'm not too good at making arguments for my utter lameness.

BRIAN: Connor always talked about how cute he thought that it was that you were so sheltered.

A hush fell over the table. Brian had never discussed Connor with me so casually; and he had especially never discussed Connor discussing me with him with me.

Um...yeah, that works.

I tossed it off. I was glad that we could get past the 'you dated someone I date and we're friends' thing.

ME: First off, not being a Newport playboy hardly makes me sheltered--
BRIAN: I was just using his terminology.
ME: Second of all, if he did find that cute; that's pretty idiotic. It's a minor character flaw. I recognize that I'm a little blah sometimes, and it's something I need to work on.
TURNER: Kevin, it's not a flaw. Everybody's sheltered in some way.
ME: It's okay, Turner. You don't have to make excuses for my grey-toned existence.
TURNER: No, it's true.
BRIAN: It is true. Besides, Connor broke up with me for the same reason he stopped talking to you, and that had to do with being...limited.

Uh...what? I never did find out why Connor stopped talking to me, but I assumed it was just the old 'one day he stopped calling for no reason' thing--I never thought there was an actual issue at hand there.

ME: What are you talking about?
BRIAN: I...I thought you knew.
ME: Uh, no, but now I want to.
BRIAN: It's not really...dinner conversation.
NICK: Are we at the Ritz Carlton?
TURNER: Even if we were--we're us. What difference does it make?
BRIAN: It's sort of--personal.
ME: Personal, and yet, I have no idea what it is.
BRIAN: I thought you did.
ME: I don't. So spill. Whatever it is, I doubt I'm going to be embarrassed by it. We're all friends here. If it's some personal trait of mine that's unappealing, you guys are probably already aware of it.

Brian looked like he really didn't want to say anything. That only made me want to force it out of him more.

BRIAN: It's...sexual.
ME: Is it because I wouldn't pee on him?

Nick spit out his drink--just like in a Buster Keaton movie, I kid you not.

ME: It was a joke, Nick.
NICK: You never know with you.
BRIAN: It's just--it's stupid. I thought it was stupid of him to break up with me for it.
ME: It must have been somewhat important if it broke up the two of you and caused him to stop calling me.
BRIAN: Not really.
TURNER: Gay guys can be fickle. I bet it's because you wear too much plaid.
BRIAN: That would cause anyone to stop calling, but that's not it.
ME: Brian!
BRIAN: It's because you and me and Connor are all tops!

He said it so loud that the three tables nearest us all stopped their conversations and froze in place. One woman's spoon actually hovered an inch from her mouth.

TURNER: Okay, well that settles that.

I was shocked. First off, I'm pretty sure Connor and I never had any discussion about what we "are" sexually, and secondly, if that really is the reason he stopped calling, then...then...

Who does that?

ME: I never told him I was a top.
TURNER: Guys--
BRIAN: I guess he just assumed.
TURNER: Should we be talking about--
ME: Turner, we're all adults here.
TURNER: Adults in public.
NICK: Oh, so those four white girls can talk about swallowing over brunch at a diner on Sex and the City but we can't talk about sexual preferences?
TURNER: Fine, I've been overruled.

I was becoming more livid by the minute.

ME: I mean we never even had a conversation that would--
NICK: So you're not a top?
ME: No, well, I am, but--
BRIAN: There you go. He probably just sensed it.
ME: Oh, come on, you can't tell.
TURNER: Apparently he could tell.
ME: He could have been wrong.
NICK: But he wasn't.
ME: I can't always tell!
BRIAN, NICK, and TURNER: I can.

We were veering from the subject, but the boys were already taking advantage of the fact that Pandora's Positional Box had been opened.

TURNER: Everyone always thinks I'm a bottom at first.
ME: You're not?
TURNER: Nope. Total top.
NICK: I'm vers.
BRIAN: I don't mind bottoming, but I wasn't going to do it for Connor.
TURNER: Why not?
BRIAN: Are you kidding? I would have had to practice with horse tranquilizers first.
ME: THAT'S WHY HE STOPPED CALLING?

They all looked at me like it made perfect sense.

NICK: Kevin, once that's the case, there's really no point in pursuing anything.
ME: We were past the point of pursuing anything anyway, but still--
BRIAN: It renders you incompatible.
ME: It does not! My first boyfriend and I never did that, and we had a perfectly healthy sex life and a great relationship that lasted almost a year.
TURNER: Didn't most of that sex life take place in your car outside a country club?
ME: We were in high school!

Well, he was anyway...

ME: Not the point! The point is, that should not be the determining factor of whether or not you stay with someone! Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?
NICK: I don't think not being able to have sex with someone is so ridiculous.
ME: You can still be intimate.
BRIAN: But you can't really have sex.
ME: In case you haven't noticed, we're gay. We can't really have sex the way you're really supposed to have sex.
TURNER: Thank you, 700 Club.

Why was everyone ganging up on me?

BRIAN: Look, you won't date people who smoke, Connor won't date people who top. It's just a preference.
ME: Bullshit. It's guys caring more about sex than connection. Just like always.
BRIAN: If that's the way you feel--
ME: That's the way I feel.

And that was that.

Of course, as soon as I got home, I called Connor.

CONNOR: What a nice surprise.
ME: Cut the shit. Did you stop talking to me because I'm not a bottom.
CONNOR: Oh Christ...
ME: That's my line.
CONNOR: What?
ME: Never mind. Did you?
CONNOR: Kevin, I didn't stop talking to you because you weren't a bottom.
ME: Thank you.
CONNOR: I stopped talking to because I had a very good feeling you wouldn't bottom.
ME: I'm not sure I see the difference there.
CONNOR: You're someone who's just very tame sexually, and that's not what I'm looking for.
ME: Not wanting to do one thing makes me tame?
CONNOR: I have a feeling it's more than one--
ME: You have a lot of feelings, you know that? Unfortunately sensitivity isn't one of them.
CONNOR: Kevin--

Done. I was so mad I knew I needed to go for a walk somewhere to cool down. Luckily, I thought I'd be able to kill two birds with one stone. I was supposed to hang out with this guy Troy--so I suggested a little walk on the beach to talk advantage of the nice weather.

I've known Troy for awhile--about a year or so--but we've never managed to get a date together until now. He's a decent, mild-tempered kind of guy. Strong and silent type, if you will. Since we already knew each other fairly well, we just conversed like two friends. I, of course, had only one topic on my mind.

ME: Would you stop talking to someone for something like that?
TROY: If I didn't feel we clicked sexually, then yeah, maybe.
ME: But we did click sexually.
TROY: Clearly, he didn't feel that way.
ME: He felt that I was too tame.
TROY: Are you?
ME: I don't think so, but he and I never really got close to the point where I could be...you know...where I could really relax with him.
TROY: I guess some guys just don't give other guys a chance to show their true personalities.
ME: Yeah, I guess.

We got something to eat then went back to Troy's place to hang out and watch television. I could slowly feel those old urges of wanting to prove someone wrong creep back into my psyche. All of a sudden, I just wanted to let loose the crazy, sexual animal that is...um...me.

Troy and I started kissing, but he caught onto what was happening before we got too far along.

TROY: I think you might be doing this for the wrong reasons.
ME: No, I'm not. I'm doing this for me. To expand my--whatever. I don't want to be thought of as limited.
TROY: There's nothing wrong with being--
ME: Shut up and take your shirt off!

And strangely enough, he did. Then my shirt came off, and somehow we wound up on his bed about to bring things to the next level when I had a thought--which usually means something bad is about to happen.

ME: What's the craziest thing you want to do right now?
TROY: Huh?
ME: Craziest thing--name it, we'll do it.
TROY: Kevin--
ME: Troy, just let loose. Don't restrict yourself.

Now I was sounding like a life coach.

ME: What do you want, Troy. Tell me what you want.
TROY: I want--
ME: That's it. What do you want?
TROY: I want you to just enjoy yourself.
ME: Ahhh! Don't say stuff like that. Be honest! Don't be a wimp!
TROY: Yes!
ME: What?
TROY: I'm a wimp! I'm sorry!
ME: No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you a wimp.

Why was I having this conversation naked?

TROY: Yes, I am. I'm a pathetic wimp.
ME: No, Troy, you're--
TROY: Tell me what a sorry piece of trash I am.

Ohhh...I get it. I'd just experienced this six dates ago (Date #69: Indulge Me) but that time I was with the dominator--this time I was with the dominated. But I wasn't going to back out. I was going to challenge myself and go with it.

ME: Um, you're a sorry piece of trash.
TROY: And?
ME: You're...um...really stupid.
TROY: Yeah, I am. Oh f**k, I am.

Dear God, he was actually getting into this.

ME: And...you're...dumb, too. You're a dumbass.
TROY: That's right. I'm a dirty f**king dumbass.
ME: Yeah, dumbass. Could you get any...dumber?
TROY: What do you want this dirty dumbass to do? He'll do anything?

I wanted him to stop calling himself a dumbass. That was number one.

ME: Just shut up.

He did, but he moaned instead.

ME: No moaning!

He stopped.

ME: Now, just close your eyes and...um...

What the hell was I supposed to do now? Make his bedspread disappear?

ME: Um...so...
TROY: Slap my face.
ME: I'm sorry.
TROY: I'm sorry! I won't talk!
ME: No, you're going to have to. I don't know what to do.
TROY: Slap my face!
ME: Won't that hurt?
TROY: Do it!

So I did. Very lightly.

TROY: Harder.

Argh, fine. I slapped him semi-hard.

TROY: MAKE ME YOUR SLUT!

I reared back and slapped him. Like--Alexis Carrington meets Valerie on 90210 slapped him. Immediately, I felt awful.

TROY: Ouch!
ME: I'm so sorry!
TROY: Do it again!

That was when I called a halt to the whole evening.

And about half an hour later, I was at Dwight's house.

DWIGHT: He was into dirty talk, huh?
ME: No, he was into being dominated.
DWIGHT: That's pretty kinky.
ME: I don't understand how demeaning someone is hot.
DWIGHT: It's not--not to everyone anyway.
ME: And I proved Connor right. I am tame.
DWIGHT: Kevin, you are not tame.
ME: Yes, I am.
DWIGHT: Speaking from someone whose seen the way you are with your friends, how protective you get, how you look at someone when you admire them, how you make people laugh--Kevin, speaking as someone whose been kissed by you, there is nothing but passion radiating through your entire body.

It's moments like these where Dwight could almost convince me to vote Republican.

It still didn't feel any better being in a category though, but pat of me felt like there was nothing I could do about it.

FRIEND: Honey, what have I always told you? Deep, soothing breaths and you'll be fine.
ME: I just wish all of this weren't such a big deal.
FRIEND: People who try to say sex isn't a big deal are either getting cheated on or castrated.
ME: What about other forms of affection? Kissing, cuddling--
FRIEND: Who cuddles? People still cuddle? I don't cuddle.
ME: So for you, it's a deal-breaker.
FRIEND: Well, no, honey, because Daddy is equal-opportunity. I don't care what you are as long as I don't have to call you the next day.
ME: But do you think I'm tame for not being able to do what that guy wanted?
FRIEND: If you'd continued on with that freak, I'd be calling you an idiot and smacking your ass with a paddle--Oh wait, you'd like that.
ME: Good to know I can always come to you when questioning my decisions in life.

Before I officially let the subject drop...

ME: So how do you tell?
DWIGHT: You just get a feeling.
ME: So, let's say Scooter--
DWIGHT: Top, clearly.
ME: Yeah, and...just out of curiosity...
DWIGHT: I don't top.
ME: Really?
DWIGHT: See, it does make you a little happy, doesn't it?

Okay, maybe just a little...

Smile

Date #74: The Burning City

2007-03-26T13:59:00.000-07:00

A friend once talked to me about living in Rhode Island.

I said that sometimes I feel like living here is a little like being in a burning city. Rhode Island is just one of those places that everyone really wants to leave.

BRIAN: I'm thinking of Madison.
ME: Wisconsin?

Brian had recently broached the topic of moving at one of our N.C. lunches, and since then he's been perusing different options.

BRIAN: It would be something different.
ME: And probably not much more exciting that Rhode Island is.

(I've actually never been to Madison, Wisconsin, so excuse me if I'm wrong about this.)

The point I've been trying to make to Brian is that so many aren't happy because of where they are, but who they are. I think if you're satisfied with yourself you should be able to live pretty much anywhere and be okay with that.

I once knew a guy who moved to New York because he couldn't stand living here anymore, and when he got to New York, he said all anyone talked about was wanting to get out of New York and move to L.A.. Finally, he moved to L.A., and all he heard there was about how great London and other parts of Europe were. When he made it over to London on a trip with some friends, he had people asking him, "You're from America? That's so cool! Have you ever lived in New York?"

Moral of the story: Discontent resides everywhere.

However, Brian was not planning on moving to New York, L.A., or any other major metropolis. He wanted to do a complete life change.

BRIAN: Boise.
ME: Idaho?
BRIAN: No?
ME: What is it you like about Boise?
BRIAN: Who do you know that lives in Boise?
ME: Nobody.
BRIAN: Exactly.
ME: So, you're going to move for the sake of moving.
BRIAN: People do it.
ME: People suffering from mid-life crises do it. You're in your early twenties.
BRIAN: I need to do something. I feel stagnant.

I think the Tommy thing hit him a little bit harder than I originally thought it would. Apparently they had gotten very close, and even though Brian knew he wasn't really the 'marrying' type (I use the term loosely since we're all gay) he had hoped for a miraculous reformation a la Samantha with Smith on S.A.T.C.

ME: Moving because of a boy just seems a little drastic to me.
BRIAN: It's not just this boy. It's every boy. Every boy in this state is royally f**ked up.
ME: Oh, and I'm sure in Boise they're much better adjusted.
BRIAN: Look, it's not like I ever planned on living here my whole life anyway.
ME: Why not?
BRIAN: Because! It's Rhode Island.
ME: So if I said I might travel and see the world and do all that but eventually wind up living my life back here, you would think...what?
BRIAN: That's great for you, but it's just not my thing.
ME: Well, not everyone can live in Madison.

That pretty much ended the discussion. Where I'm from happens to be a pretty big part of me, and when someone insults that, whether they know it or not, they're sort of insulting me.

TURNER: I'm sure he didn't mean it that way.
ME: It's ridiculous. He tells people he's leaving and they say 'Great!' I tell them why he's leaving and they say, 'Well, it's still cool that's he moving.' It's like, as long as you get out of here, you're making a good decision. Apparently, I live in Beirut and nobody told me.

We were getting ready for our big presentations in Paye's class. The snobby gays were doing something to "The Night the Lights Went Out In Georgia"--one of those modern pieces that they show during the Oscars while everyone's trying out the salsa.

Turner and I had decided on something a little more upbeat, but I was having trouble with it since my mind was occupied with Brian's potential departure.

TURNER: Are you upset about the reason he's leaving, or just the fact that he's leaving?
ME: I'm upset because my friend is leaving. Yes, Turner, you've solved the mystery.
TURNER: Don't get snippy with me, Snappy. I might be blowing off this popsicle stand one day, too.
ME: Oh really?
TURNER: Yes, really. I don't plan on raising a family in Rhode Island, you know. I want to live on a farm.
ME: Since when?
TURNER: Since I was kid.
ME: And raise what? Lesbians? Norman Bates' replicas?
TURNER: You don't see me laughing at your dreams.

Point taken.

ME: I'm sorry, Turner. I have no right to make fun. My only dream at the moment is still having friends when I'm thirty.
TURNER: Things change, Kevin. You just have to roll with it. If Brian leaves be happy for him, and don't make him feel like he can't ever come back if he needs to.

God help me if Turner ever needs help on that farm. He's so sweet to me all the time, I'd probably have to offer my help milking the lesbians.

That night, I had a date with Sean, a young entrepreneur I got asked out by when he came into the library looking to check stock quotes and I spent ten minutes helping him find the internet explorer. (He actually knew where it was; I just hovered in the hopes of getting a date--don't judge, it worked.)

We went out to dinner and we wandered--I can't imagine how--onto the talk of going places.

I filled Sean in on Brian and Turner's joint plans of someday living out of state.

SEAN: I can't understand that. Rhode Island's a great place to live.
ME: Thank you! I know!
SEAN: You've got great restaurants, nice beaches, culture, it's close to everything--
ME: I knew I wasn't crazy. That means a lot to hear you say that.
SEAN: I would definitely want to stay here for awhile.

Hearing that made me like Sean so much. Actually, hearing someone say 'I'm not going anywhere for awhile' made me happier than anything. Ever since I've graduated college, all I hear is people saying good-bye to me. I guess at some point I could just say good-bye myself, but I never feel ready for it.

After dinner, I asked Sean if he wanted to see a late night movie.

SEAN: The truth is, I would love to, but I have an early flight tomorrow.
ME: Oh? Where are you headed?
SEAN: London.

Surprise.

SEAN: My company is doing some work over there and I'm going as a rep.
ME: That sounds fun. How long are you going to be gone for?
SEAN: To be honest, I don't know. At least six months, but--
ME: Six months?
SEAN: Yeah. This is going to be a real undertaking. I wouldn't be surprised if I ended up being there for a couple years or so.
ME: Years?
SEAN: I should have mentioned this from the start--
ME: --Or when I was telling you about my thing with people leaving...
SEAN: The truth is, I kind of asked you out on a whim. I guess I wanted one last connection here before I left.
ME: So you could sever it?
SEAN: I didn't know things were going to go as well as they did.

I didn't really want to talk anymore. I just wanted to grab a block of cheese, nacho doritos, mac and cheese, pickles, and sprite and have a full on trailer trash night complete with a viewing of Killer Clowns From Mars.

DWIGHT: So they shove them in the cotton candy?

Dwight, Scooter, and Nick had agreed to indulge me.

SCOOTER: Dude, pass the doritos.
NICK: 'Dude,' your breath smells like an episode of Roseanne.
ME: The point is not to be classy. The point is to binge. Now somebody give the man his doritos and pass me a pickle.
DWIGHT: Imagine being wrapped in cotton candy. That would be gross.
SCOOTER: We should get cotton candy.
NICK: I still want to hear what happened last.
ME: It's nothing.

I hadn't told them about the final moments of the date.

SCOOTER: Spill it, Kev-o.

It was right before we went to our respective cars.

SEAN: Hey, this is going to sound really nuts--

Great, he wants sex before he goes international.

SEAN: --Extra ticket and--
ME: Wait, sorry, I was doing an inner commentary.
SEAN: Huh?
ME: Did you just invite me to London?
SEAN: I have an extra ticket--round trip. The company just always gives out two assuming people have wives, mistresses, personal assistants, rabbis--
ME: And you would give it to me?
SEAN: It's either that or it goes to waste.
ME: And what would I do there?
SEAN: I don't know. Hang out. See the town. It might be fun.
ME: I don't even know you and you want me to get on a plane with you and hang out with you in London?
SEAN: Why not?
ME: I don't have a passport or--
SEAN: I'm not leaving till eight tomorrow. While I'm packing, you could--
ME: Are you seriously doing this? I can't believe you're seriously doing this.

He smiled and kind of looked off to a side in a really adorable way.

SEAN: I can't really believe I'm doing it either, which is why I think I'm doing it. I also don't want to go to a new place not knowing anyone--if it's not too pathetic to admit that.

It was actually really really endearing.

NICK: So you're going, right?
ME: No, I'm not going.
DWIGHT, NICK, and SCOOTER: Why not?
ME: I have my job. I have obligations--
SCOOTER: You have cranial damage.
ME: Hey!
DWIGHT: What have you got to lose?
ME: I can't just jet-set off like that! I'm not a character in The Sun Also Rises!
DWIGHT, NICK, and SCOOTER: Huh?
ME: Never mind. I work at a library. It's...librarial.

I went home that night wondering if I could do it. If I really had it in me. This could be my moment. My chance to flee the burning city.

FRIEND: Get on the f**king plane.
ME: But what about?
FRIEND: Honey, there comes a moment in every princess's life when she has the opportunity to be swept away by a handsome, rich, and probably well-hung prince. This is your chance.
ME: My job?
FRIEND: Quit it. You work at a library. They have libraries in London.
ME: My family?
FRIEND: You have a family?
ME: I can't do this. It's too sudden.
FRIEND: Nothing really amazing ever happens slow. That goes for life, theater, comedy, and sex.

So...

London?