“This isn’t a sex party is it?”

On Saturday, I had an invite to a party in my neighborhood thrown by Jill.  He I met not long after I moved to New York in 2005.  We lived near each other in Queens (both with our grandmothers), and we both went to high school in South Carolina.  He went to college in state for his first 2 years, so he knew a few of the gay boys that were in my city-wide choir in middle/high school.  We fell somewhat out of contact a couple of years ago, but he recently found me on Facebook.  

Just to give you a little background, Jill’s family happens to be part of Jack and Jill of America (basically, a club for rich black folk that was more or less founded because  white people wouldn’t integrate their country clubs and such… see Something New for more info... or the Brown Paper Bag Test).  I like to give him shit about it every now and then.

(For the record, most of the people I know whose families are part of J&J are darker-skinned, but I really couldn't resist that link!)

Keeping this in mind, I wasn’t sure what to expect at this party.  It could have been thugs from the block, voguers, bourgeois bottoms, college kids.  There was no telling with Jill, so I threw on a tight button-down and headed out. 

I walked in, and there were about 10 people there (4 of them around the Spades table).  As I’m talking to Jill, I overhear something about going to a “mostly white college” from the couch.  I should get in on this convo. 

Jill introduces me: “This is D. Kareem.  He’s [semi-famous uncle’s name mispronounced]’s nephew.”  Really?  But this type of introduction is no real surprise with Jill. 

I started talking to two guys on the couch, but one of them was definitely dominating the conversation.  As the conversation went on, he monopolized more and more of the talking time.  I started to recognize the typical rich-from-the-South-president-of-my-HBCU-alumni-club perspective.  When he uttered, “Wow, I could never date a white guy,” I excused myself to refill my drink. 

$160,000 was worth every penny.

Throughout the soliloquy  lecture conversation, the other guy on the couch and I would give each other knowing looks in reaction to this guy’s statements.  I like this other guy.  The Other Guy brought up an Ivy League school in conversation (how do they always find me?).  I thought he was a student (though he looked a bit old for undergrad).  When he brought up city planning experience, grad school was the logical conclusion.  

Time for another drink.  

One of Jill's things when we used to hang out that she was always a top.  Don't even joke about her bottoming because her tramp stamp says 'do not enter'.

I jumped up as Jill was walking by and tapped her on the ass.  “Hey, Jill!  You versatile yet?!”

“Huh?... NO!” she responded all flustered, looking around to see who heard my comment (and her hesitation before responding). 

Love it.

There were a few good-looking guys, of course.  A couple of older guys (maybe 40s) showed up at one point and were standing pretty much right in front of where I was sitting.  I jumped up to introduce myself, and they welcomed me into their conversation.  Of course (as with any extremely good-looking guy in his 40s), one of the guys’ ages comes up.  And we all played the oh-but-you-look-so-young-for-40-something game *rolls eyes*.  I can’t remember what his response was, but it somehow led to the subject of how younger gays should idolize/appreciate/worship older gay men.  “In fact, you should come over here and give me a blow job.  You owe me.”  Y’all know I’m the last one to get uptight about a jocular statement like that (especially from a hot older man), but something about it just rubbed me the wrong way.  Maybe it was the fact that it was said 3 minutes into the conversation. 

Many of Jill’s guests eventually left for another party downtown from us in Harlem.  I ended up staying til the end of the party and riding with Jill and 3 or 4 other guys in one of his friends’ car. 

Me, as we’re parking on Adam Clayton Powell Blvd: “This isn’t a sex party is it?”

Friend of Jill: “Please don’t say that in my district?”

Your district?  Huh?

So we get halfway to the door and Jill ditches.  “No, y’all go ahead.  Most of the guys from my party are there anyway.”  Remember my rule about parties where you only know the host?  Well, now I was coming from one of those parties (which went surprisingly well, considering I stayed a lot longer than I planned) to a friend of a friend( of a friend)’s party.  At 3am. 

Old queen at the door: “Sorry, they told me they weren’t letting anyone else in.”

Jill’s friend: “Ok, just tell the host that State Assemblyman [name] is outside.”

Another guy: “Hey, don’t you go to [some church in Harlem]?!  I sing on that choir!”

Old queen: “Oh yeah!  Okay, let me go ahead and tell the host.  It shouldn’t be a problem.”

It was like the goddamn Wizard of Oz (“I'll announce you at once!”).

Did I mention that Jill used to "work in fundraising" for a State Assemblyman?  Yeah.

Well, I’m the last one of the group in the door.  As soon as I step in, the host singles me out.  “Hi, we’re pretty much shutting down the party.”

“Oh, okay.  I was just told that we could come in.”

“Ah, and who are you here with?”  

“[First off, that’s whom, dumbass.  And did you really just ask me for a name?  Like a club with a secret password?]  I’m a friend of Jill’s…”

I can’t remember the next couple of lines of the conversation, but basically, I was the one person of the group that wasn’t admitted ("The Wizard says go away!").  See what happens when I hang out with black people?  (Kidding!  Sort of.)

After a long night of name dropping, I decided it was time to go home.  Besides, No Parking would have been a $15 cab ride, and it was closing in 40 minutes.  Not that I would have used my semi-famous uncle’s name in this situation, but I have to wonder if that would have worked.

Did I mention that when I got a Facebook friend request from the Ivy-League Other from the couch, I saw that he was a professor?  Work.  Did I also mention that I now see the monologuist from the couch at least once a week now on the way to/from the subway in my neighborhood?  Yeah.

I know, I know.  You wanna know about New Years Eve.  I promise it's coming up, but click here to check out this other major gay holiday while you wait.


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