a 6’2 black guy sitting in my kitchen

For some reason, I was particularly excited about going out on Thursday.  So excited that I rushed home and broke out my paint-on white jeans.  After a disappointingly short disco nap, I hopped a train downtown to View Bar, a venue I hadn’t seen in quite some time (okay, I guess 2 weeks isn’t that long).  Adding to the category of trashy things I hadn’t seen in a while, MicHELLe was there!  Hey girl!

For some reason, the Ivy League Crew has started congregating towards the back of View Bar.  This week we ended up directly in front of the bathroom door (WTF?  It wasn’t even crowded!).  So guys would come up to the door and ask us if anyone was inside like we were the collective restroom attendant.  “I’m not sure… I don’t think so.”  That made for a few priceless moments, including me imitating the you-walked-in-on-me shriek as soon as one poor guy opened the door. 

MicHELLe and I had a very special moment a View Bar this Thursday.  He confessed to me that he’s a rollercoaster enthusiast.  Now, I really really like rollercoasters: I’ll usually make it a point to get on every rollercoaster when I go to a theme park (except for 6 Flags’ Kingda Ka… we have issues).  When MicHELLe said enthusiast, she means she’s traveled the country with her dad riding legendary metal machines.  “It’s the one nerdy thing about me.”  Honey, you went to an Ivy; I’m sure you can come up with at least a few more.

We stayed at View til about midnight and migrated to Splash (downstairs, of course), which was surprisingly roomy when we got there.  Sweet, more space for dancing!  Unfortunately, my pants were way too tight to really get into it, but I managed to work up a good sweat before too long. At one point, Bronx Newbie asked me if he should go to No Parking “on the way home” (perhaps attempting to get me to come with him since I live in the area), but when I saw him making out with a friend of a friend, I figured that’d be one stop he wouldn’t be making. 

Morehead made an appearance, and it was the first time I had seen her since her Birthright Israel trip (gotta love a culture that calls international travel a ‘birthright’).  Looks like she had brought back a souvenir: a tall, strapping Israeli soldier.  Funny, it was impressive when Morehead said it, but don’t they all have to be in the army at some point in that country?  Anyway, part of me wanted to ask if Morehead was sharing her new boy toy, but I settled for a lingering hug and a sleepy train ride uptown. 

Friday, I managed to slip out of work an hour before expected.  Train, van, ferry, and I’m in the Pines on Fire Island!  The Banker Gays had their weekend, and I had promised Rosey I’d stop by their house at some point.  It was about 9 when I got out there, and I texted the Architect to see if they were still at Sip 'n’ Twirl in town or if they had made their way back to the house yet.  No answer, so I made the long trek out to the Palace.  Mind you, I’m walking through a wooded area with no streetlights (or streets, for that matter) by myself.  Not like, oh, there are a couple of boys 20 meters ahead of me, but like not a goddamn soul in sight for the last half of the journey.  I have this fear of getting mugged for my flip-flops and sunscreen on Fire Island, but I figured if I walked faster, I’d get to the house faster. 

I get there, and the Palace is pitch black.  Not even a bedroom light from someone being lame and staying in.  FUCK!  Then after about 20 minutes, this white guy I’d never met before comes up the poolside entrance.  I threw out the Architect’s name before even mentioning my own in my introduction to set him at ease (I know I’d be freaked out if I saw a 6’2 black guy sitting in my kitchen).  Within a half hour, everyone was back, and dinner preparations were in full swing. 

This weekend, the Red Bear had come out to the Palace with one of his exes (who was also a bear).  Red Bear has a very impressive muscular build and an even more impressive coating of bright orange hair.  What makes him so hilariously endearing is that as soon as he opens his mouth, you expect a Prada bag to fall out of it.  Part of the dinner conversation was he and his Ex going back and forth about who was The Daddy for the weekend.  I had all kinds of pornographic fantasies playing in my head, but apparently they’re strictly non-sexual now (damnit). 

Of course, dinner happened sometime around 11, and no one left the table for at least an hour and a half.  The young lawyer of the house (he may be in his early 30s) was seeking advice from the housemates about his attire for the underwear party, and the Architect was being brutally honest.  Being that the young lawyer and I aren’t particularly close, I wasn’t sure about whether I was allowed to laugh at that or not (but I did anyway).

The Architect whispered in my ear as we left the Ex and another housemate out on the deck alone at the end of the night: “What the Ex doesn’t know is that the other housemate and his boyfriend aren’t monogamous, so that’s not just ‘friendly late-night convo’ he’s having.” Did I mention everything about the Palace is amazing?  Yeah.

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