a game of Never Have I Ever

I hadn’t seen or heard from TTT much since she got back from LA.  I could go on about this at length, but that’s not what this post is about.  Anyway, I had gotten a text from him when I was still at the Holiday Party on Long Island.  When I made it home, I responded with a very late text that concluded with: Sorry, Prince Albert, if you pick up the phone first.  Prince Albert is TTT’s boyfriend of over a year.

Anyway, TTT’s friend from LA (whom I had met when I went for work) was trying out NYC to see if he wanted to live here.  Somehow, he had secured a month where he didn’t have to work, and some rich old guy in Jersey City was letting him stay for free.  Interesting.

I’m always one to welcome a west-to-east-coast convert, so I rushed out of my apartment, arriving to Maracas about a half hour late.  I walked around the whole dining area looking for their table before I noticed them at the bar.  They were actually waiting on everyone to arrive before they sat down (which was nice because you only get 90 min of unlimited drinks once you sit down)!  The usual suspects never do that.

Once Ms W. finally arrived (and you thought black people were late!), we took our seats.  By the second round of drinks, the conversation devolved into a game of Never Have I Ever.  I have a problem with the traditional rules of Never Have I Ever because if I say things I haven’t actually done, usually nobody’s done them.  Or so I thought.  We modified the rules for maximum embarrassment, and all the single bottoms definitely put their hands up (wuh oh oh)!  Quite a few things came to light, especially when only one person drank in response to a statement: “STORY!”

 

Then Ms. W. pulled the ultimate bitch move.  “Never have I ever wanted to sleep with someone at this table.”  I can’t remember who drank, but everyone was pressuring TTT for a story.  I chimed in, half saving him and half outing him:

“Okay, okay.  So last summer, almost a year and a half ago, TTT and I had verbally confirmed our mutual attraction to each other.  She’s happily married now.  And. We’re. Friends.”  Clink.  Drink. 

After we wrapped up brunch, TTT insisted that we head over to the Hangar.  Now, there are quite a few not-so-good moves to make when you’re showing a friend around NYC.  One of them is to take them to an empty bar (i.e., anything but Gym Bar before 5 on a Sunday).  But we went anyway.

As soon as we arrived, Ms. W. wanted to go down to SoHo to the True Religion store to buy jeans, but no one was feeling it.  I decided I'd be the good Samaritan (since we'd never hear the end of it) and accompany her.  Between his story of his ex boyfriend coming over to his mother's for Christmas (huh?) and his verbal justification of spending three figures on jeans (the two stories may have been related), I was well entertained for the round trip.  And anyone who's gotten off the subway at West 4th with the intention of hoofing it to Spring St. knows that this is no short walk.  I thought therapists were supposed to listen... They had some cute jeans in the store, but I didn't even bother to try any on.  They’re way too ubiquitous and branded for my taste.  Not to mention the price.

When we arrived back at the Hangar, Prince Albert was there.  TTT wanted her to come out with us (and Ms. W insisted that we go to the Eagle, even though their main draw on Sunday is the roofdeck… bitch, it’s 30 degrees!), but Prince Albert was wearing track pants and couldn’t be scene out like that (it’s a Bear bar… you’re a twink… and you’re going with your boyfriend.  Whom are you trying to impress?). 

I recommended Chi Chi’s, but it was almost as empty at the Hangar (my bad!).  Of course, they didn’t decide they wanted to leave the 2-4-1 special until I had gotten my first (of 2) drinks.

We make a quick stop by a Starbucks so Prince Albert can change (for 20 minutes) and head up to the infamous bar.  As expected, the Eagle was less than popping, but Ms. W somehow got us all to do ($2) tequila shots.  We took a tour around the whole place, but I don’t think anyone talked to or made eye contact with any of us. 

Ms. W wanted to go back to his place, so we stopped by there and said hello to his roommate.  Then TTT invited us back to his place (which I had yet to see for myself).  The rest of the night kind of reminded me of high school because it seemed like everyone wanted to hang out but no one wanted to spend money.  In a group of 5, we went to a Chinese food place (where 2 of us got food) and then Suite (where only I got a drink).  At one point, the hostesses at Suite (between passing the karaoke mic back and forth to each other for songs) told someone in our group that there was a 2 drink minimum to perform.  And the girls got mad when  a hostess said “buy drinks, people; that’s how it works.”  I'll say; it's not like they charged a cover.

We ended the night at TTT’s place, which I left way too late after watching most of the Britney doc.  Ms. W had long since passed out on TTT’s bed cuddling with his friend from LA.  Did I mention that I hate starting the week behind on sleep (and be the week, I mean every week)?  Yeah.

Last time I saw TTT was my business trip to LA.  Click here.


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