Rosestud, who looks disturbingly similar to Rosebud for them to be so different, invited me to have brunch at Braai in Hell’s Kitchen. I was a hesitant because Rosestud was the only person on the Facebook guest list that I knew, but I figured it’d be a fun way to meet some new gays. I also invited MicHELLe, since she lives nearby.
When I arrived (late), everyone all 8 people at the table went through the pointlessly polite recitation of names. The very cute waiter got me started on the unlimited mimosas, and I put my food order in.
It wasn’t long before the conversation turned to Grindr. I signed on, and of course, there was a shitload of people within 100 feet. Within a minute of signing on, I got a message from someone with no profile picture.
I said something to the table about the message I'd just gotten.
Our table was in a back room, and we could see the hallway that led to the bathrooms. I thought I saw a hot South Asian-looking guy steal a glance on their way into the hallway, and the messages ended soon thereafter. I guess that’s what I get for using a professional photo on Grindr. “I’ll never stumble into lighting that perfect in real life!”
(Okay, it may or may not have turned out to be someone at the table fucking with my head. But did I mention it was unlimited mimosas?!)
I hadn’t seen much of Grrber for a while, so I left the brunch early to meet him and see Precious, which was intense. And we held hands in the theater, which was sweet. He ditched me for the gym after dinner (so gay!), so I met up with Bottomless Pitt and TTT at Kiss ‘N Fly in the Meatpacking District for the 747 party's open bar (from the same people that brought us Hudson Terrace).
TTT was on a first date at the time. Why the hell would you bring a first date around your friends? Because the friends just happen to be at the open bar that you’re trying to use to get him drunk and get yourself laid! TTT left us with the Date to get them drinks.
Date: “So, where do you live?”
Me: . o O (Am I really having this conversation right now?) “Uptown.”
Date: “Oh… Well, how about you.”
Pitt: “[Intersection] in Murray Hill.”
Date: “Oh okay. Well, I live on 51st and 9th.”
And that’s pretty much where the conversation ended. Or at least where I stopped paying attention.
The Date left about 20 minutes later.
TTT ditched, and after a quick stop by Greenhouse for more free drinks, Bottomless Pitt convinced me to go to Rawhide Bar NYC for some drink special. By the time we arrived, my phone was at 20% battery, so I went over and plugged it in at an outlet by the bathroom.
Bartender with an accent from some British colony: “Hey! Hey you!”
Me: “Um, yes?”
Bartender: “This isn’t your fucking living room! You’re just plugging in your phone!”
Me: “I’m sorry, is that a bad thing?”
Bartender: “You ask first.”
Me (trying to keep a straight face): “Oh. Well, is it alright with you if I plug in my phone [that’s already plugged in]?”
Bartender, looking disgusted: “Yah.”
I told this story to someone I knew, and they said I should have thrown my drink in his face. What good would that have gotten me besides being hated by a bartender who knows more people in nightlife than I (though getting kicked out of Rawhide would be a hell of a story). It’s more productive to tell my friends (and readers) not to go there if they prefer good service and bartenders who aren’t assholes. I feel better already!
We took our time finishing our drinks. And when I went to get my phone on the way out, it was unplugged just enough so that it was still in the socket but it wasn’t charging. That’s the service you get at Rawhide NYC. Was I really in the wrong for plugging my iPhone into an open plug or is this guy just a douche?
I finally got to sing “Battlefield” by Jordin Sparks at XES! It was going great until the ad libs at the end when I decided that I could sing it in the same octave that Jordin does. Usually I can screech it out, but not after a weekend of drunken yelling!
I had taken the next day off, so I finally agreed to meet Bottomless Pitt at this champagne bar on the East Side called Flüte that has a $25 open bar (tax and tip included!) from 7-9. One of the cocktail waitresses asked, “Weren’t you at XES last night! Yeah, I remember you singing.” Shit.
Bottomless Pitt and I ended up drunk at Daddy Mondays at Vlada, which is where she said my favorite quote 3Q 2009: “I’m squatting 300 lbs! Do you see my ass right now? By the time the Black Party comes, it’ll be swallowing dick!” Did I mention they were showing bondage/leather porn? Yeah.
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6 comments:
Ah, la dolce vita with a plug-in adapter!
Pitt's ass does have its own gravitational pull. Throw an object at it, and it'll orbit if you get the momentum right.
Your entry confirms my fear in Grindr. But I love playing with it on my friends' phones.
~A
When I worked retail for my "big corporation," we were technically not supposed to let customers plug their phones into the outlets. It was considered a liability. But yeah, it made me feel like a douchebag to enforce that rule.
That guy sounded like a real fuckwich!
Fuckwich actually sounds like a good thing...
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