Ben Andrews isn’t that skinny

Sunday after the Black Party, should have been a straight up recovery day.  Anyone with sense (and benefits) would have taken Monday off, too.  But Bottomless Pitt had won a contest and got VIP service at Porky’s Hot Mess party.  And really, when's the next time I'll have access to free bottle service (because really, if you can afford it, shouldn't you be over it)? 

I dragged my ass downtown and arrived around 10:20 (feeling very antisocial) to find the Ivy League Crew et. al. dancing among the general population (i.e., not in the VIP area).  No big deal because drinks were $1 til 11, but still.  Apparently some promoter (who hadn’t shown up yet) had to set it all up.  No surprise there.

I grabbed myself a drink for the wait and started jamming out to the pop tunes.  After the drink special was over, the DJ mentioned something about a drawing for Lady Gaga tickets with a drink purchase, but I’d’ve been damned if I was going to pay full-price for a drink that night!  Around 11:15, we were ushered into the VIP area, and by 11:25, we had vodka.  But no mixers.  We all wished aloud for Urban Sprawl's flasks to magically contain juice instead of Jameson.

A few minutes later, we were pouring, mixing, and toasting.  Bottomless Pitt told us that the promoter had “a whole bunch of bottles to give away”, so we should text friends.  Unfortunately, it was closer to midnight when said promoter said, so there was little chance that anyone outside of the neighborhood would shoot down to Chelsea. 

“Single Ladies” came on, so Bottomless Pitt and I went out to the dance floor to do our thing.  That’s when we noticed that almost no one was in the bar!  At one point, the DJ said, “Make noise if you’re alive!” 

Right about then, McNugget (the guy whose studio we went to after Bronx Newbie's Thanksgiving) and the Fry Kids came in with their crew, all switching and all in black.  They’re friends of Bottomless Pitt’s, and I have no idea how he met them.  I had met them a few of times (one of the Fry Kids was Drunk Girl from Bitter Commie's party), and they seemed like fun.  I should mention that I was definitely checking out Filet-Ho-Fish, one of the Fry Kids, when I met him at McNugget's that first night.  He’s some kind of eastern European, I think.  Accent included.

We drink more.  We do the dance to “Damaged”.  More people come into the VIP.

 

“I think that’s that porn star… what’s his name?  Ben Andrews?” Fung Wah said, pointing to the loner twink carrying around the fishbowl drink.

“No way.  Did you see the cover of The Intern?  Ben Andrews isn’t that skinny.”

It was Ben Andrews.  I didn’t really believe it until the DJ announced him, and a blog I keep up with confirmed it the next day.  What I now realize is that every time I passed that Lucas Entertainment display at the Blue Store (on 8th ave), I was hardly in a state to remember what a guy looked like (Lucas Entertainment is the studio that made The Intern).

“Fung… Fung Wah?  Is that really his name?  Fung Wah, you’re going to see Lady Gaga!”  What?!  Did she really just win the drawing?  First Morehead with those Jet Blue tix, then TTT with the Black Party VIP ticket (yes, singular), and now this.  I really should start leaving my business card in some fish bowls.

 

Once our table was done with our second bottle, it didn’t look like any more were going to appear.  Any sane person would have gone home to rest up for work at that point.  Bottomless Pitt’s trick was too drunk to stand (which, frankly, was no surprise).  Pitt felt some sense of moral responsibility toward the young boy (a disturbing pattern), so he was going to take her home. 

McNugget: “We’re going to Posh.  Are you coming?” 

A few thoughts ran through my head: 

. o O (She probably doesn't have to work tomorrow…)

. o O (I don’t really know these people; what if Drunk Girl gets messy again…)

. o O (But I’m not wearing black…)

But I finally started making sense: “Sure, why not.  It’s on my way home."  And I’d get to talk to Filet-Ho-Fish, who may or may not have been checking me out in my slutty outfit.

We cab it to Posh (of course) where McNugget immediately starts with, “I know the manager.  I’ll get us shots.”  That’s real nice, hun.  She introduces us to said bar manager, and we chassé to the bar to pay for a drink.  To McNugget’s credit, we did end up taking a free shot (or 3) later in the night. 

I’m not sure how it started, but Filet-Ho-Fish and I started making out.  It disturbs me that I never remember how these things start since it makes it that much harder to apply that to future situations.  Meanwhile, McNugget’s shots started to kick in.  As soon as Fish took a step away from grinding with me, McNugget started making out with him. 

I wasn't offended, and I didn’t feel slighted.  I’m sure all you gay boys have seen how many boys under 30 build up hopes with the making out and never follow through.  At this point, I was just living in the moment.  If it led to more, (super-goddamn-fucking) great!  If not, whatevs: no surprise. 

Filet-Ho-Fish comes back from wherever he was going, and we make out some more.  The next thing I remember is talking to some girl at the bar and McNugget saying, “We’re brothers.”

“Oh, like real good friends?”

“No, like, real brothers.  We have the same father.”

“But… you two were just…”

“Making out?”  McNugget grabbed Fish, and they started going at it again.  

I found all this all hilarious.  At that point, my imagination had glimmers of a 3-some.  McNugget is a very attractive guy (especially with that [no idea what country he’s from] accent), but he’s not quite my type.  Not that that hasn’t stopped me from taking advantage of a fun situation before…

There was a bunch more making out before the manager ushered us out of the bar.  Breakfast?  Why not.  And by breakfast, I mean burger (medium, lettuce, tomato, pickles, with BBQ sauce on the side, in case you were wondering).

McNugget went to the bathroom, and Filet-Ho-Fish and I talked a bit.  He confirmed that they were brothers.  I have my doubts only because a few months back McNugget had convinced most of the Ivy League Crew that he had an identical twin brother who also lived in NYC and was also gay.  I rarely went out with them to wherever it was that they would run into him/“them”, but I feel like I heard about it for at least a couple of weeks.  But whatever.  If it helps the fantasy, I’ll play along. 

“Well, I have to take my brother home.  There’s no way he’s gonna make it.”

Did I mention how incredibly sexy my bed was again?  Yeah.

I posted a Sober Moment (Ikea, Model Legs, and Dingleberries) late in the day yesterday.  If you missed it, click here to read.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the  Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.