meet my friend: sit up (Northern Decadence)

Every Labor Day, the Long Island Gays throw Northern Decadence, a suburban gathering (in Westbury) to drink out the end of summer. MicHELLe and I caught a ride out with Morehead, arriving in the late afternoon. I was dressed a bit outrageously for the occasion, sagging my red linen pants so that a few inches of my new underwear were quite visible.

A rather funny situation went down involving my attire. A friend's boyfriend, whom I hadn't really seen in months, picked at a piece of my shirt, asking, "Did you have this made?... Oh," and giving a condescending once-over look. "It's obviously a bit small. It's a women's cap tee. Did you take this from your little sister's closet or something?"

I acknowledged his statements with an eye roll and a fake laugh because anything else that would have come out would have started a conflict that I really didn't want to deal with on a sunny day on Long Island. Plus, me directing an ad hominem comment at her would be just plain unfair. Instead, I stopped paying attention to whatever it was she was saying and whipped out my phone, tweeting, "Dear Friend's boyfriend, don't make fun of my tight shirt. And meet my friend: sit up." Not the most mature thing I've ever done, but, as I said, any worthy response would have made me look like the bigger asshole.

As soon as I put my phone away, Ligaly Blonde came over with her phone out: "So, I just got your latest tweet. Who are you talking about?"

You wanna talk about stunned! It took me a good half a second regain enough composure to steer the convo towards tweeting in general. I successfully avoided the topic being verbalized, but I wouldn't be surprised if she used the new cut-and-paste function on the iPhone to forward the text/tweet to everyone relevant. Oh well.

This year, Northern Decadence was a refreshingly low key party. I feel like it was about half the number that usually Ligaly Blonde's parties. And the laid back atmosphere made it much easier not to get totally trashed.

MicHELLe and I began talking to a cute friend of a friend, and we mentioned that we were on our way back to Manhattan that night (rather than crashing on an inflatable mattress... if there were any). Turns out he was headed to the same neighborhood we were. In fact, the same block!

“I’m about to leave in about 10 if you guys want a ride.”

“Sure!” we both said in unison.

MicHELLe turned to me after the driver walked away: “Wait, do you think we should?”

Me: “Look, I’m about to go back to Hell’s Kitchen in a car. You do what you need to do.”

MicHELLe: “Good point.”

Looking back, I could see her point. I didn’t know this dude from Adam(4Adam), but I had a good 30 lbs on him, and we outnumbered him.

Our new buddy had to stop by his parents’ house to walk their dog, and when he got out of the car, MicHELLe and I realized that neither one of us could remember his name.

Me: “Tell me if you see him coming.”

So, flashback to Pride ’06. Okay, the morning after Pride ’06. I had gone home with Kunta Kente. After a night of wild sweaty sex and drunk stimulating pillow talk, I couldn’t remember his name to save my life. Rather than running the risk of an awkward situation, I searched for a piece of mail, an item that was sure to have his name, while he was in the shower. Thank you bedside table!

But what the hell would have this guy's name on it in a car? The registration, which (thank god) was the first thing I saw when I opened the glove box.

Me: “We’re good. Unless daddy bought the car for him.”

MicHELLe: “Maybe he’s a junior.”

Of course, the whole ride back, we didn’t use names once. MicHELLe pointed out that he could have very well forgotten our names, too. This turned out to be wrong when I ran to the deli closest to MicHELLe’s apartment and heard my name from halfway across 9^th ave. Turns out homeboy was meeting friends at Arriba Arriba, and they had gotten the cruisiest table in Manhattan the outdoor table that’s basically on the corner of 51^st and 9^th.

By the time MicHELLe and I had a drink in her apartment, it was about 10:30. The Ivy League Crew was at a frat-themed birthday party on the East Side. As far as I was concerned, the party already had two strikes against it, but it was supposed to end at midnight, at which there was a 50/50 chance that they’d all end up coming to Hell’s Kitchen anyway (or the E.vil). I tried texting to see where they were headed after, but no one would give me any info.

It seemed a bit far to go for an hour, so we just headed to Posh. Of course, the frat party turned out to be super fun, and the Crew stayed til about 2:30 before also heading to Posh. Did I mention that MicHELLe had gotten distracted by some boy, so I had already gotten home by then? Yeah. 

Click here to check out last year's Northern Decadence celebration.

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