The Ivy League Crew hit Jones Beach again. It was originally going to be Fire Island, but do you really wanna travel close to 3 hours one-way to a location on a day when most of the people will be headed back to the city?
Bottomless Pitt, Med School Mess, and I had planned to wear our pink “Hot As Hell” t shirts on the way to the beach because when the hell else would we get to wear them? I even sent texts out to the group (b/c I had woken up way too early) reminding them of when to arrive, adding a sentence at the end to remind Med School Mess and Bottomless Pitt to wear their shirts. Why did Med School Mess show up in a white t shirt? “Oh, right. I saw your text, and I was like, ‘I know when we need to show up!’ so I didn’t read it.” Good job, hun. “Is MicHELLe coming? Destiny’s Child needs to replace a member!”
The water was surprisingly far up the beach. It was rough water on Fire Island the day before as well (I guess due to some hurricane). As soon as we got past the main part of the beach going towards the gay section, we started seeing speedos! “The gays started early today! Love it!” (Usually, you don’t start seeing gays until at least 1 or 200 yards past where the dunes start.) It was a beautiful day, and it definitely brought out the beautiful boys. We ended up camping out next to some rather loud Cheer New York boys who insisted on addressing everyone as “Trannaaayyyy!” I guess I can’t knock them b/c the hottest boy on the beach walked over when they called him over. Of course, they got nowhere with him, but he did come over.
There was a rumor that the City of Hempstead couldn’t afford to police the beach that day, so there was a slight air of anything goes (not that kind of anything goes, whore). I remained wary, “That could just be someone lying trying to indirectly gay bash us!” People were all over the dunes peeing, and they were definitely not getting “arrested”.
Someone made an observation that was kind of flattering, but I want to clear this up so that there is no confusion from now on. Someone said, “D. Kareem, you have a new item of swim wear every time we go to the beach!” That is not true. I have 7 pieces of swim wear, one of which I keep at the office for “emergencies” (i.e., if I stay at a boy’s place and we plan a last-minute beach or pier trip... don't laugh; it happened recently). I buy 2 or 3 pieces a year (on sale), and I rotate strategically to avoid over exposure. I take my beach adventures very seriously.
(Rutgirls doesn’t think I see her talking to that hot couple to the right of us. She better worrrrrrrk!)
As we continued to drink, the waves continued to creep up the beach. It would have been awesome for surfing, but not for keeping your stuff dry. We saw some unfortunate gays get all wet and decided to move a few feet back. 20 minutes later, another giant wave washed up. Many gays went to work constructing levies and ditches out of sand to protect their things. So industrious, those gays. Well, even with a Masters in Urban Planning on our side, we ended up dragging our stuff up to the foot of the dunes. At that point, I was totally over it and ready to go, but most of the guys wouldn’t let the dream die. France Pants, Bottomless Pitt, and I ditched, but the others were about a half hour behind us.
And is a gay day at the beach ever enough? Even on a Sunday? HELL no! Let’s go to CHI CHI’S! We tried to do our best to get France Pants to join us, but she was determined to go to dinner with straight people. So in our matching pink tank tops, Bottomless Pitt and I pulled up a stool to at the bar and set our minds to drankin’.
This fat guy comes in and sits next to me. I’m being my usual tragically gay self during the two-for-one special, and somehow we start talking (which is kind of great b/c the creepy guy next to us swooped down on Bottomless Pitt and not me… take one for the team, girl [or 8]!). Turns out Monsieur Fatigue is a Cornell (non-honors) grad! And a snobby bitch! I made some faux pas about the difference between Champagne and white wine, which he quickly corrected. Ugh, I’m over it. If you’re gonna be fat and talk to me at the bar, let me be dumb and pretty! Anyway, he gave me his number on a hilarious card:
The owner of this card invites you to
( ) a drink
( ) lunch
( ) dinner and a movie
( ) spend the night
Funny, but dude, you live in Bed-Stuy. Brooklyn’s cute, but I’m not looking for a longer morning-after work commute (or trip to the bullet wound ward of King’s County Hospital).
Meanwhile, the doorman (who I think has been spotted in porn before) was taking shots on the job. And also has been making eyes at Bottomless Pitt, which she didn’t hesitate in the least to reciprocate.
I, on the other hand, had run into a friend of a past hookup. The story behind this was that the hookup was on a break from his partner at the time when I met him. They ended up getting back together, but he would call me when he got restless (or drunk… did I mention I always see him ridiculously drunk… but he has this charming smile… and by smile, I mean house on the Jersey Shore). Anyway, we haven’t hooked up in forever, but I ran into him maybe 6 months ago Chi Chi’s, and he introduced me to his just-as-attractive-and-charming friend. This friend and I had a long conversation that night, and I was so into him. Too bad he could tell. So when I saw him on this particular post-beach night, he called me on it a couple of times as he passed by my stool at the bar. I was heated because I’m usually good at playing ambiguous until it’s opportunistic for me to actually make it obvious that I like a guy. He saw right through me, and all my fucking cards were on the table.
Bottomless Pitt is making out with the doorman. Wow wow wow wow.
Crap, it’s 1am! Did I mention we got to the bar around 5:30? Yeah.
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