My boyfriend is in love with you

Let's go back to the week before Halloween, shall we?  For the sake of the very sexy costume party and the hilarious movie outing that Saturday, I think it's worth the trip.

I don’t go to the movies.  Before October, the last movie I saw in the theater might have been Stick It.  But one of my favorite train wrecks TV shows (well, it was when I had a TV... with cable) was coming out with a movie: Noah’s Arc.  And it just happens to star one of my few legit celeb crushes, Darryl Stephens (who happens to be my first comment on my myspace music page).

A bunch of us were going to go to the 7 o’clock show in Chelsea, so I suggested that some of us grab a drink at BBQ beforehand since it’s right across the street.  I texted everyone on the email thread to respond if they were coming b/c BBQ won’t seat you unless all of your party is present (which I said in the text).  Why did I end up with eleven people?!  And why did half of them show up late as hell?  In the end we sacrificed liquor for food (a rare occurrence) and grabbed a bite at Boston Market instead, getting to the theater about 20 minutes before the movie started. 

“Honey, a sandwich is portable.  Eat your mac and cheese now and carry Miss Turkey in the theater so we can get our seats.”

*tearing into sandwich* “You guys’ll just have to save me a seat.”

But it’s sexy to eat in public.

The movie was just as horrible as expected: the usual bad acting; the sophomore-in-high-school writing; the gay-beyond-gay one-liners.  But what really made this movie was the commentary from the audience.  Everything from “What the hell is she wearing,” to “Oo, her make up is running like water colors,” to “Bitch, hell naw!”

Noah really was wrong for those coats, though.

After an hour and 40 minutes of constantly flowing gay I.V. (drip my ass!), we all needed a drink.  I had promised Colombiano a few weeks before that I’d come to the costume party he was hosting that night in Hell’s Kitchen.  I met Colombiano (a 30-something Latin guy) online a few years back.  We hooked up a few times but ended up being friends, at first extremely close but more distant after a falling out about a year ago.  He has a really hot accent that he's obsessed with getting rid of, and after scraping and saving for years, he now lives off renting out an apartment in midtown (bitch).  He was also involved in the infamous beach arrest.

Anyway, Colombiano was worried that he’d invited too many people to his party, so he asked me not to bring the Crew.  Which meant I was planning to stop in for a drink and ditch.  Bitter Commie Grad Student was having people over as well, so I went with the crew over to somewhere east of 5^th ave directly after the movie.

D. Kareem: “Guys, isn’t this Bitter Commie’s?”

Bottomless Pitt: “Yeah, but we have to go get mixer.”

D. Kareem: *mumbling* “Who the hell has…” *talking* “Well, I’m gonna take my liquor upstairs since it doesn’t take 15 people to go pick up mixer.”  And it looks like it’s about to monsoon. 

And monsoon it did.  I had no idea which unit Bitter Commie lived in, so I called him to find out.  He actually picked up on the second attempt, sounding oh-so-excited to have people over (not).  Not long thereafter, the others showed up, and it was a full on party within minutes (once everyone dried off).  After my first drink, I realized that if I were going to make it to Hell’s Kitchen and back, I needed to peace out right about then. 

Turns out Colombiano has a really nice apartment right on 9^th ave (ridiculously close to my office).  And it looks like he really got into hosting this party: balloons, streamers, a(n annoying) strobe light.  And very lethal punch.  Colombiano greets me enthusiastically (though I keep him at a distance b/c he’s oiled up as part of his bow-tie-stogie-and-underwear costume).  I get changed into my aforementioned slutty costume.

“¡Primo!  ¿Estás listo?”  Fuck!  Primo’s here?!  Primo, a distant cousin of Colombiano's (also 30-something) was also involved in the Beach Arrest.  I’ve had the biggest crush on him since I first met him a couple of years ago.  And Colombiano is the type of person who would have definitely told him by now.  Anyway, he comes over dressed as a Mexican luchador (mask and everything), and his body’s more adorable than hot.  He tells me he’s moving to New York soon (from Boston).  Things could get interesting.

Eventually he wanders off.  And soon thereafter, Colombiano points out some white dude.  Primo's boyfriend.

Two Roman soldiers walk in together.  They’re easily the hottest guys at the party, but they’re obviously together.  ¿Primo who?

Then some tall skinny Middle Eastern guy in the same costume as Colombiano starts talking to me.  He seems young.  Very cute, very nice, but very young.  The skinny: he’s a “straight” guy who’s been “hanging out” with Colombiano.  He “doesn’t like anal,” and he has a girlfriend (poor girl).  Early 20s, still in school, and (formally?) Muslim, so he doesn’t drink much.  That last fact becomes more and more apparent as the half hour I spend talking to him wears on. 

Him: "More punch?"

Me: "Are you sure?"

Right about now, the party is really starting to get going.  I think I’m gonna stick with this crowd and see what happens.  Sorry, Ivy League Crew.  

“My boyfriend is in love with you,” the Latin Roman Soldier said to me.  I looked across the room, and the white Roman Soldier wasn’t making eye contact.  “He really likes what he sees.”  I can’t even begin to recall what my response was to this, but it was probably not as facilitating as any of us would hope.  Fucking punch!

The Middle Eastern guy pulled me into one of the rooms and down on a couch (shut up, the door was open... we were just talking).  It was a very cute tactic, but he was a) too young, b) too drunk, c) too in the closet.  I convinced him to get some water, but I think he ended up passing out on the couch. 

I couldn't bring the Crew, but I really needed to share this party with someone I knew (besides the host... never go to a party alone where you only know the host!).  I bet Cooper would love this party!

Text: Cooper, get here soon.  Party full of hot guys and ‘punch’ in HK.

Hate.  My.  iPhone.

Roman Soldier:  “Hey, we’re leaving.  Do you want to come with us?”

Me: “Oh wow.  That’d be fun as hell!  Where do you guys live?”

“Astoria.”

“That’ll wor– shit!  I just told a friend that doesn’t know anybody here to come.”

“That’s too bad.”

Goddamnit, I hate my life so much right now.  I wonder if they’ll keep the costumes on while they play.  Stupid fucking moral commitment to not being a typical gay flake!!

“Damn right it is.  Definitely under any other circumstances.  Maybe another time.”  As if that line ever works.

Cooper shows up, and within 5 minutes some boy has his hand in Cooper’s underwear.  At one point, I think I see the beginnings of a fist fight in one of the rooms.  A lot of pushing and angry faces, but I’m too drunk to care (at this point, I'm not looking for either kind of punch).  Cooper and I ditch for the Hangar, but after 3 blocks in a cab, she realizes she’s forgotten her phone.  We go back to the apartment, and Primo’s boyfriend is out on the front step. 

“Hey, could you see if you could get Primo to come down?  I just want to talk to him. That’s all.”

Huh?  “I’ll see what I can do.”  The alcohol has obviously impaired my reasoning abilty b/c I don’t quite get it yet.

“Colombiano, Primo’s boyfriend’s outside.  He asked if Primo can talk.”

“No.  Definitely not.  That guy is not welcome in here.”  OH!  That must have had something to do with the fist fight!  Finally she gets it.  Damn, his accent's sexy when he's angry!

“Sorry, dude.”

“Naw, I understand.  Thanks.” 

He wasn’t even ridiculously cute anyway.  Primo's better off with me, I mean, in New York. 

The rest of the night can be summed up by the following phrase: late night happy hour.  Did I mention I still managed to wake up in Queens the next morning?  Yeah. 

If you liked the Beach Arrest, click here to read about another beach adventure.

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