French flag on his profile (East meets West[ern ignorance])

I woke on a Saturday morning and found a Facebook message from Urban Sprawl about a rooftop party in Hell’s Kitchen thrown by some gays we didn’t know. A few of us responded that we were down, but Urban Sprawl, our one link to the party, was avoiding committing to a time. I wasn't so much in the mood for the “hi, I’m the friend of that guy last weekend that you invited to the party who isn’t here yet” conversation, so I just decided that I’d show up late as hell.

image from marcoda.wordpress.com

I had neglected to eat, so I grabbed a chicken sandwich at a deli across the street once I found the address. I looked up from the street and saw Ernie’s hair (sans Bert) and Urban Sprawl’s electric-blue button-down. I think it was when they suddenly started waving and yelling at me from the roof that I suddenly had the urge to go back into the store for mixers.

Is it a rule that all staircases in Hell’s Kitchen have to be steep and tilted to the point where you’re not sure they’re gonna support your weight? Because it’s certainly a trend (with no elevator… rude!). Anyway, I dropped my liquor off on the 4^th floor, (out of breath) and made myself a drink to carry up to the roof. Did I mention it was like 50 degrees and overcast?!

After a short while, 3 cute white guys came up to the roof and introduced themselves. Two of them were a couple, and one was their friend. As we talked, the topic of where people were from came up.

Guy : “I’m from [Eastern Europe].”

Other Guy: “You’re from [Midwest]!”
Guy: “How the hell am I from [Midwest]?”

Other Guy: “You spend more time in [Midwest] than you did in [Eastern Europe]!”

Guy: “No, I spent 10 years in [Midwest] and 15 years in [Eastern Europe]… where I was born!”

Me: “He has the accent to prove it.”

I thought the guy with the accent was cute, but he seemed both uninterested and unavailable. I was talking with the Other Guy, who was telling me about how he lived in Brooklyn with his boyfriend: “We almost never leave Park Slope on the weekends! All the train construction has never affected us!” At that point, I started to wonder if owner-gays get as bored when we talk about clubbing and hooking up as we do when they talk about their mortgages and renovations.

image from 718brooklyn.wordpress.com

Fast-forward about 2 hours. We were all downstairs in the apartment, and the Other Guy was wasted! I mean, he could barely stand up!

. o O (Now I see why your ass stays in Park Slope!)

The Ivy League Crew et al left soon thereafter to grab dinner.

While at dinner, I started talking to this guy who had a French flag on his Grindr profile. Y'all know how I am about accents! He was cute and seemed very interested, but I wasn’t sure where the night would lead, so I didn’t commit myself to any plans with him.

Saturday night was all over the place. I stopped by Ligaly Blonde’s birthday party, which was another rooftop party in Hell's Kitchen. Except they were trying to keep people out of the apartment, and the smoker-per-square-foot ratio of Long Islanders is much higher than City-gays. Between the smoke and the cold, I think I lasted about a half hour before heading across town to another friend’s birthday celebration.

On Sunday, I actually got laundry done before I left the house (thanks mostly to Bottomless Pitt’s alleged hiatus from drinking). I hollered at ASFKAB to see if he was going to the Eagle, but he said he and some friends were headed to Gym Bar. I went to meet them down there, but, of course, they were on the smoker’s patio. I opted to breathe clean air and entertain myself with Grindr and Twitter (follow me) while drinking. And I ended up running into The Count (a guy I met online 2 years ago who paid my admission to The Black Party less than a week after we met and then stopped calling me a week later) and talking to him for an hour or so.

image from Gawker.com

While on Grindr, I started chatting to the guy with the French flag on his profile. I was heading to The Eagle to meet up with ASFKAB (who had left without me), so I suggested he meet me there. Once I arrived, he messaged me that he’d be about a half hour. And of course, as soon as he confirmed that he was coming, a ruggedly handsome bear started talking to me.

As we talked, it came out that he’d never done the online thing: “I asked my friend to show me how to do it. He just told me not to even try.” And, well, you guys know how I do. Eventually, I told him I was waiting on a guy that I’d met on Grindr. At one point while we were talking, he made eye contact with a very tall, very handsome Italian guy standing near us, and they started talking. I knew I was no competition for this guy who was much closer to his age, but just as I was admitting defeat, I caught a glimmer of recognition in the crowd.

Me: “Hey, how’s it going?”

Him: “Good, how about you?”

Me: :Good, thanks. Good to see you. I guess you left the boyf at home, huh. He doesn’t like The Eagle?”

Him: “Huh?”

Me (pausing): “Oh, you don’t have a boyfriend, huh.”

Him: “No…”

Me: “Right, we were talking on Grindr! I thought I had met you at this party yesterday…”

Him: “Oh wow. Um, you did. We talked for a while.”

image from failblog.org

Me: “Shit. [I said his name.] Right. Wow, I’m so confused.”

Him: “Wow, let’s get you a drink.”

Me: “Shit, I didn’t realize that was you on Grindr! Why do you have a French flag on your profile?”

Him: “Actually, it’s Russian. It’s the closest thing I could find to the [Eastern European country] on those symbols for the iPhone.”

Me (mumbling): “Thank god the drinks are strong here.”

Luckily, that was the end of my Stupid-American comments for the night. We had a couple of drinks at The Eagle before heading to a diner for dinner. Once we had paid our check, nothing was really said about going back to his place (which just happened to be on the same block as Duplex’s duplex), we just walked and talked.

Him (at the door): “So, do you want to come up?”

Me: “Um, yah!”

Did I mention that my attraction to men with foreign accents only been justified and fortified? Jah!

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Sober Moment 5.24.10: My appearance on The Wendy Williams Show

Dateline: Columbus Circle; 7:50 AM on a Wednesday.

Me (calling Med School Mess): “Hey, I'm almost there. Where’s Wendy’s Studio?”

MSM (groggy): “Huh? Our tickets are for tomorrow.”

Me (pausing): “Seriously?! Fuck! Okay, go back to sleep.”

Med School Mess’s friend had gotten tickets to The Wendy Williams Show, and Med School Mess, knowing I’m the biggest Wendy fan he knows, invited me along as a 4^th. Unfortunately, I was so excited that I got the date wrong. And before she rolled back over, she definitely took the time to log onto Facebook to make fun of me (bitch). Luckily, my gym is right near Wendy's studio, and so is my office.

The next morning, I arrived at the line for the show about 10 minutes after Med School Mess and her RG friends. I walked up to the line with my iPhone out, blaring Wendy’s theme song and singing along. A few people in the line joined in on the disco scream. I joined my group in the line, and we received blue tickets, guaranteeing our entrance into the show. Last time I’d tried to come with a co-worker and her friend, they were late. We got in line at 8:02, which put us on standby admission. When we didn’t get in, my co-worker made a big stink about it because her friend came up from Philly. My thought was that they said to be on time. And we weren't. Oh well.

As soon as we walked into the garage-like door, we went through a metal detector, had our bags searched, and got wanded by security. We were asked to sign in (they asked for a social security number… huh?) and then provide the same information on a form that encouraged us to come up with questions to ask Wendy. Now, I had gotten the email from one of the producers asking us to come up with questions in advance. I had one, but it didn’t come to me til the afternoon before. I figured it was too late, but the producer insisted that everyone come up with 1 or 2 questions.

They had donuts and coffee in the waiting area as well as a long makeup mirror, which I checked no less than 4 times (HD is very unforgiving). After being made to cheer on demand and getting the rundown of the rules (“and don’t stand up or try to touch Wendy or Security will tackle you, and you could die”) from 2 very gay, very cute producers, we were herded in groups to the main studio.

The executive producer came out and told us more rules and procedures and how to cheer and applaud and what Wendy would do when she came out. His imitation of her was hilarious because it involved a muppet-like shuffle when he’d walk to the different places that she would be standing in the studio.

Exec Producer: “Has anybody heard of [girl with 3 names]?”

Very Gay Boy in the back (laughing): “Yup!”

Exec Producer: “Well [girl with 3 names] was in our audience a few weeks ago. She came up to the mic for Hot Topics, and proceeded to recite her whole resume to Wendy. Line by line. If you do that, we will kindly ask you to leave during the next commercial break. That’s not what this show’s about. We’re here to have fun and have a good time, not trying to sell something! Oh, and is anybody familiar with voguing? Last week, Wendy was standing in the audience for Ask Wendy. A young man was behind her and realized that his face was right in the camera. He proceeded to vogue into the camera behind Wendy’s back!”

This made me laugh a little harder than everyone else because when he mentioned voguing the second time, he started doing Madonna’s signature vogue. But I was thinking more vogue-battle vogue. Med School Mess and I had a moment (because her clumsy imitation of voguing has become a phenomenon among the Ivy League Crew, et al).

Exec Prod: "And you! I don't mean to stereotype, but you look like the type that would vogue! Yes you!"

I looked up, and he was pointing directly at me. This sent me into a fit of shocked-that-he-went-there-but-it-was-pretty-funny laughter.

Me:"Wait, did she just call me a bottom!"

Exec Prod: "So I see 2 different types of people here. There's the hardcore, diehard Wendy fans, and there's the husband who got dragged along. And you can always tell because when the theme song comes out, they sort of do the 'I'm cool; I'm cool' dance. And then I see the girls and the gay boys, and I can say this because I'm gay, who go crazy! And that's what we want because Wendy feeds off that energy!"

Image from nealbinnyc.wordpress.com

Me (snickering): "Gay? Didn't see that one coming..."

Then the outrageous Latina producer came out to hype up the crowd. She announced that we were going to have a dance party on the stage. Of course, I jumped out of my seat (you never know what will happen with these shows when they see a cute outfit and some moves).

After 3 or 4 old-school songs, the Latina producer and I started getting into a Jackson 5-like rock in the middle of the dance floor.

Her: "You're gonna be in the dance contest, right?"

Me: "Hell yeah!"

There were about 8 of us left on stage for the contest. Please tell me why the DJ put on "Single Ladies!" I gave Med School Mess a look, and in two seconds flat, my declaration of that dance being retired til 2015 became null and void. The crowd got really into our performance!

Image from casa-diseno-blog.com

So at the end of the contest, they lined us up Apollo-style, and the audience cheered for the people they liked best. The older woman who was really getting down got a good amount of applause. But somehow, we garnered more.

Me to MSM: "Hold up: do we get a prize for this contest?"

After that, it wasn't long before the show started. We cheered when the theme music came on, but when Wendy came out in her short pink dress and big curly wig, I swear the volume doubled!

After she walks out at the open of the show, there's a graphic sequence before she goes into her Hot Topics segment where she's sitting at that table. Turns out that chair and table isn't a different part of the set. They have a crew of people brings in the furniture (even flowers for the table) during the graphic sequence. It all happens in about 7 seconds, and it reminded me of a Sailor Moon transformation sequence in fast-forward.

Normund Gentle from American Idol last season was in the audience, and he did the opening for the show. I guess they have him on the day after AI to talk about the performances and eliminations. But what got me about him was that he had a short, regular-white-guy haircut with a long fringe sort of swept to one side. The first thing I said was, "Is that a track?!" (track = a thin piece of fabric that hair extensions are attached to... one can sew, glue, or clip in a track and cover it with one's own hair... often wigs are made of a series of tracks attached to a cap.) Apparently, it was Adam Lambert week on AI.

Image from bet.com.

After Hot Topics Wendy's guests for the day were Marlee Matlin (a deaf Academy Award-winning actress) and Bob Greene (Oprah's trainer). Both the segments were pre-taped (she wore the same dress, wig, and jewelry), so Wendy went to her dressing room, and they brought out a tv for us to watch them as they were broadcast.

We went back live for Ask Wendy. Now, I'm not a regular watcher of her show (I fell in love with the radio show, especially staying late at work), but I feel like every time I watch, some black woman is saying that a friend/family member just got engaged/married, and now the husband/fiancée is hitting on them. And today was no different. So if you wanna get some air time, that might be the way to go.

. o O (Oh my god, she really does shuffle like a muppet! HA!)

After she closed out the show, they had her do the promos for the next show. It sounded funny because it was all out-of-context copy that was to be interspersed between sound bites and clips. Then an exec producer would give her feedback, and she'd do the half-line again. That type of thing is hard enough in a sound booth with a producer, let alone a whole studio audience reacting to your slip-ups. Plus, the audience wasn't in the shot at all, so it's puzzling why they wouldn't just do it after we left.

Just as Wendy was leaving to change her clothes and wig (they were taping an interview for a later show), the Latina producer ran up the stairs and gave Med School Mess and me our dance-contest prizes: canvas Wendy Williams bags.

Perfect for the beach!

While we waited for Wendy to change, the Latina producer led a trivia game that included Wendy trivia and guessing old sitcoms from the lyrics of their theme songs. I won an In The Heights soudtrack while Med School Mess got a Katharine McFee CD. Mess's friend answered one of the last questions and got stuck with an Elmo DVD.

After that, they brought out Aiden Turner from All My Children and Dancing with the Stars. Med School Mess's friend was about to melt out of her damn seat. The guy was handsome, and he had an accent (though it was not the most appealing of the British I've heard). I guess I just wasn't the target demo.

After the taping was done, they herded us out the back entrance. We were trying to get our bearings when a girl asked, "Can I get a picture of the dance contest winners?!" Then her gay wanted to get a picture with us (local celebrity much!). He was cute, so I wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him in close.

Did I mention that after all that excitement, I had to go in to work? Yeah.

Click here to check out The Death of DudeVu Part II: Piracy to Profits

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walk through the woods (Breakneck Ridge)

Lab Rat, a PhD student and fellow class of '05 alumnus of a non-Ivy-League school (thank god!), had invited a bunch of us to go on a hike planned by an HIV counseling organization with which he was involved. When I saw that the Metro North was leaving "Grand Central STA-SHUN" at 8:47 Saturday morning, my first reaction was, "Oh hell naw!" But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea: doing something out of my element (I barely even go to Central Park... AT&T reception is crap there); meeting some new gays. I finally marked "attending" on the Facebook event, binding myself to the excursion (because I take RSVPs very seriously).

Lab Rat and I met up at 125th St and took the bus across town. After grabbing sandwiches at a deli, we went up to the platform to look for the organizer of the trip as well as a non-mutual friend who was running late.

Me: "Is this our train?"
Lab Rat: "No, our train comes on track 1."
Me (looking at the screen): "Weird, they have two trains listed as leaving at the same time."

Lab Rat was texting furiously, but he wasn't finding anyone. Our train came, and we hopped on, finding the straight couple that Lab Rat knew from college. As soon as we found seats, Lab Rat checked his phone again.

Lab Rat to the conductor: "Excuse me, do this train and the [really fucking far-away town] train intersect further up? My friend got on the wrong train."
Conductor (laughing): "No, your friend is gonna have to turn around and catch a train back. That's a whole different line."

I'd forgotten how beautiful the Hudson River gets once you're north of Manhattan, and the Metro North runs right along side its banks. We spent most of the time enjoying the view and making each other laugh.

Me: "So did you make it to Pieces last night [for the monthly underwear party]?"
Lab Rat: "Yes, I did, actually!"
Me: "Are you serious?!"
Lab Rat: "What did you do last night?"
Me: "I stayed my ass at home because I had to be up at 7am! Okay, so I polished off half a bottle of wine before a neighbor came over with another bottle around 11. Then we fell asleep on my couch around 130."
Girlfriend: "Wow, we did a crossword and went to bed at 10."
Me: "So was anyone besides Urban Sprawl and Med School Mess in their underwear?"
Lab Rat: "Yeah, a lot of people. Young... Old..."
Me: "Shit, I almost wish I would have gone. As much as I spent on undies Down Under."

Lab Rat: "So you know the coat-check guy at Pieces? I wrote him a poem and gave it to him last night."
Me: "You wrote him a poem?"
Lab Rat: "Yes! But I'm not sure if he really got it."
Me: "Lab Rat, are we sure he finished college?"
Lab Rat: "Well, no. But I'm not sure he could actually read my handwriting. And I'm kind of mad because I gave it to him, and I don't have a copy for myself."
Me: "Next time, write it on your phone first. Or snap a picture."
Lab Rat: "I'm gonna see if I can remember it."
Me: "That should be pretty easy if it rhymed. Wait, did it rhyme?"
Lab Rat: "No..."
Me: "Of course not. So you wrote someone of dubious education a poem in blank verse?! He might not have even known it was poetry! Hold up, is blank verse in iambic pentameter, or is it just anything with no rhyme scheme?"

After about an hour, we moved to the back of the train since the Brokeneck Ridge stop (you'd think the name itself would've kept me away) was only accessibe via a single door. We figured it was because they had one of those bridge thingsthat you had to teeter across from the express track to reach the platform.

Please tell me why we got to the stop and the platform looked like this:


There were no buildings anywhere. It was literally a yellow box in the middle of the woods.


Me: "That group of bears are branching off! We should follow them since they look more rugged. And you should always trust the older people in a group."

We walked along the side of a road about a quarter mile before we came to the start of a trail. There was a post with some info and a box that was supposed to contain maps for hikers. Not so much.

It was a nice uphill walk through the woods on a cool day. That lasted about 5 minutes. The procession of hikers (at least 30 from the train) started to slow down. When I looked ahead to investigate, all I saw was rock.

Then people started having to use their hands.

And the incline just kept getting steeper.

At one point, I realized that I'd do serious self-damage if I leaned back or if my bag (the stylish over-the-shoulder bag I carry around the city) caused me to lose balance. And at one point, if I would have lost my footing, I'm not sure how many hundreds of feet I would have tumbled. When I finally took a good look up, no one I knew was in sight. Luckily, everyone was headed in the same direction.

Finally caught up with Lab Rat and his friends at a lookout point.

Lab Rat (hanging up his phone): "So, I figured why I couldn't get in contact with the trip leader. The gay hike is next weekend, not this one."

After even more "scramble" (as it's apparently called) we finally started to head downhill. We ran into a group of older men of ambiguous orientation who had a map.

Boyfriend: "If we go this way, we could do another mountain. This other trail will take us to town."

Girlfriend: "That was kinda quick. Let's do another mountain!"

Lab Rat: "Yeah, I say let's do another mountain. I mean, we've only done like 5 miles so far."

Boyfriend: "D. Kareem?"

Me (sighing): "Let's do it."

So, I'm not used to doing things that I'm not really good at. I always did well in my classes (either naturally or by hard work). I wasn't good with sports that involved balls, so I did track (and I did really well b/c our league sucked). I could tell that I was holding the group back and that they were making an effort to accommodate me. And of course, I appreciated it, but I absolutely hate being that guy.

Girlfriend (on another uphill): "Kareem, you've fallen silent!"

. o O (That's because I'm wheezing like Precioius when she stole that bucket of chicken!)

The second mountain turned out to not be nearly so bad. We broke for lunch at the top. I checked my phone and noticed that I had a few bars of reception! The Girlfriend rolled her eyes and the Boyfriend and I checked into the mountaintop on FourSquare.

After a long break, we started heading down the second mountain. Not even 30 seconds out, the Boyfriend stopped us.

I almost had a heart attack when I saw this long-ass snake, but I calmed down when I found out it wasn't venomous.

As we headed downhill, we passed a ton of people who were just starting out in the opposite direction. The trail ended at a parking lot that was just outside of a quaint town that had a Metro North station on the other side of it. I almost had an orgasm when we sat down at the restaurant next to the station for drinks.

Lab Rat was still trying to remember the damn poem. We laughed at him, so he pulled out loose-leaf paper and pens (which are essential for a mountain hike) and instructed us to write haikus while he thought. The Boyfriend suggested lymericks because "they're more fun!" I did both.

Lab Rat was not amused that my limerick referenced his temporary psoriasis.

When we finished our drinks, we had to catch the train on the opposite side of the track, which meant we had to cross via a sky walk.

Lab Rat: "We can handle a few stairs!"
Me: "Speak for yourself! I've had quite enough uphill and downhill for today!"

Best believe I took the elevator up one side and down the other! The staircase separated the end of the platform with the elevator the rest of it. When I stepped off the rather slow elevator, I saw no one and thought for a half second that I'd missed the train!

Did I mention that when we FINALLY got back to WaHi, I had the most delicious disco nap ever? Yeah.

Click here to check out the last time I ventured outside the City (before Australia).

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Your hand really should have been on her ass (Meet the Españard)

Good Friday was absolutely beautiful weather. In anticipation of the heat, a friend made a facebook event for "Playing Hookie" that afternoon. I most definitely wasn't attending an event that involved lying to my place of employment, but saw no problem with taking a very late lunch.

After a refreshing break from a terribly slow day at work, I returned to the office to find almost everyone gone. So I grabbed some sushi and went back to the Village. After happy-hour hopping, we ended up at the brilliance that was Vlada's Vicious Fridays' 15-minute open bars.

That Saturday was supposed to be in the 70s, but I don’t think it got above 65. Definitely not the best day for The Pier. I met some rather random people out there, but we quickly retreated to the shelter of Pieces.

image borrowed from www.belvederecollege.ie

Bottomless Pitt had mentioned that a guy who worked in his field that he had met online was moving to NYC from España and that they were meeting up. He didn’t mention that he was bringing the motherfucker to our most frequented happy hour! I’d forgotten about it til I saw the two of them sitting alone at a table in the back of the bar. The guy was slim and cute. Totally his type. A few of us went over and said hello before moving to the other side of the bar.

Bronx Newbie: “Is Bottomless Pitt on a date?”

Me: “Do you have an NVLD? Yes.”

Bronx: “I didn’t even pick up on that til just now.”

Me: “Told ya. Yeah, well…”

After about 20 minutes of socializing awkwardly (it was quite the mixed bag that showed up to the Pier), I was relieved to get a well-punctuated text from Bottomless Pitt:

. o O (Did they decide to keep it platonic?)

I met the Españard, who was wearing remarkably funky pants, and a bunch of us settled in the back corner of Pieces for a few hours. There was some contact with the Spaniard’s leg and mine. And neither of us made any effort to avoid it.

. o O (I guess they really weren’t on a date.)

image borrowed from cloudfiles.mosso.com

Well, the Spaniard commenced to flirt with just about everyone, and I guess he made out with a couple of guys, too. I didn’t think much of it until we were on the way to the train. Bottomless Pitt, MicHELLe and I were together ahead of the rest of the group, and Pitt let out her signature, “What the goddamn hell!”

Me (clueless): “What?”

Pitt: “That bitch I brought is about to hook up with everyone but me!”

Me: “Didn’t you say y’all were—”

Pitt: “MicHELLe, now I know how you felt at your Superbowl party.”

(Last year, when Pitt got drunk and made out and left with the guy MicHELLe had just broken off from hooking up with. At MicHELLe's apartment. She announced it to the Crew, but Pitt didn't get the memo. I'd link it, but I didn't blog about that part of the night.)

Me: “Pitt, really? You brought her to a bar that we always go to and didn’t stake an exclusive claim. Your hand really should have been on her ass the whole time if she wasn't up for grabs.”

Pitt: “Whatever. We’re not going with them to Vlada, though.”

MicHELLe: “How about [falsetto] Pooooooosh!”

Me: “Oh, MicHELLe wanting to go to Posh. There’s headline news.”

The rest of The Crew dropped into Vlada for their other 15-minute open bar party while we passed the remains of my Gatorade bottle around and entered Posh. After another 20 minutes, the rest of the crew came in and crowded on the dance floor. I saw a golden opportunity... to be a good friend.

Me: “Hey, I can tell you don't wanna be here. How about No Parking!”

MicHELLe: “Definitely not me.”

Me: “Bitch, we know you ain’t leavin’ Hell’s Kitchen. I wasn’t talking to you!”

Bottomless Pitt: "Do you see what I'm wearing?! I'll get mugged on the train home!"

image borrowed from trouvais.com

Me: "As if. A) nobody's gonna fuck with you, and b) you're gonna sleep with a white guy who lives up there anyway! By the time you pull a coyote ugly, the trains will be running express. Tada! Besides, I need to drop off my bag at my place, so I can get you some pajama pants for the ride home."

Pitt: "Bitch. Let's go."

No Parking was full of it’s usual No-Parking-ness. We had a great time posing along the wall and dancing to familiar tunes. At one point, I was dancing to a salsa song, and an RG grabbed my hand and started dancing with me. I know the basic steps of salsa. And I took some swing in college (the class was only partially studio work... I haven’t taken PE since 8^th grade... as if!), which taught me lead-follow technique. But it’s totally different combining them... with a real person. She may have had to stop once or twice after a spin to figure out why I had changed directions, but on the whole, I was a pretty good leader.

Did I mention that I managed to escape a few minutes before they turned on the ugly lights (progress!)? Yeah.

Click here to check out Folsom St. East (a fetish festival), Beyoncé's concert, and Broadway Bares: all in the same day.

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it wasn't the worst place to end my night (The Spanish DILF and the Protogé)

Let me be honest: I really don’t remember what happened during the earlier part of the Saturday after TTT’s birthday. But I do know that we ended up at Posh. When I walked in, I almost immediately made eye contact with a tall gentleman with wavy salt-and-pepper hair. I love wavy salt-and-pepper hair! He quickly looked away, so I went about my business. The second time, he held my gaze and gave me a smile, so I walked over to talk to him. Spanish accent? Yes please. We actually had a pretty awesome conversation, and it didn’t take me long to learn that he had a boyfriend who lived across the country. Of course, they had an arrangement.

And then I had to go to the bathroom. I get nervous about going to the bathroom when I’m interested in a guy because I’ve had a few guys I’ve talked to never come back when they claimed to leave for the bathroom (it’s much more efficient to wish me a good night). Anyway, I told him, “I’ll be right back. And I’m not ditching because I really am enjoying our conversation. So wait for me.” And of course, there was a line at the bathroom. But he was there when I got back.

We eventually left (he had a ridonkulous penthouse in midtown), and it wasn’t until I was looking at him lying on his bed that I had this gem of an awkward moment: “Wow, you look exactly like [extremely famous actor]!” I immediately regretted saying that when I saw his if-one-more-gay-boy-tells-me-that reaction. He was actually more handsome than (not) said actor, but the resemblance was undeniable.

Anyway, we had a great night. I woke up to him jerking off. I'd already gone beyond what I usually do for most guys (let alone a 1st time trick). Have you ever played like you're asleep hoping that the guy you're lying next to will give up on trying to get some? Well, after an hour, he was still jerking off, so I went ahead and grabbed a third condom.

His shower had a door that led to the outdoor terrace. I tried it. It worked. And then I couldn't lock it back. After spending a good 5 minutes trying to re-lock it, I jumped when I heard, "Dont worry about it. I'll get it," behind me. It was a very Beauty-and-the-Beast moment.

As affectionate and into me as he seemed that night, he was markedly distant the next morning. I figured it was the hangover until I had the following he’s-not-that-into-you revelation a few days later:

But before that happened, I had gotten 2 texts for brunch with the boys. I'd gotten a text from both TTT and Med School Mess about brunch. By the time I responded, TTT had flaked, and Mess was at Pieces. Change of clothes? Totally unnecessary.

When I walked into Pieces, Med School Mess was spinning on a bar stool while a few of his med school friends played pool. I spent most of my time watching the straight guy bend over and shoot. One of my friends definitely said, "I'd kill to have that dick in me... shit, was that out loud?!"

Mess ended up going home, but Bottomless Pitt, Urban Sprawl and I ended up at XES, where they were starting karaoke early. After yelling all weekend and getting no sleep, I figured "Bad Romance" was totally appropriate for my range ("that's, like, the holy grail for a bari-tenor"). Turns out I was pretty prompt because I was the first to sing. I don't think I've ever gotten so many compliments on a karaoke performance in my life. Turns out having two dancers (and knowing the dance yourself) helps.

Urban Sprawl ninja'd, and Bottomless Pitt insisted we check out G Lounge (very out of character). As soon as we walked in, I saw a white guy I had met before. About my age, bleach blonde, and cute as hell. An actress that 95% of you know has taken him on as a protogé, so he'll probably be famous at some point (or at least well known in the Broadway world). When we first met, I didn't think he was into me at all, bur I got his number for the hell of it.

Protogé: "Oh my god, we're just headed to Hiro! Come! I'll get you in for free, and we can get free drinks from Amanda!"

Now, when I hear a guy my age promise stuff about nightlife (or otherwise), I've conditioned myself to not expect it to come through. Since Hiro was close by and closer to the A train than G, I figured it wasn't the worst place to end my night.

It turns out he was actually able to get us comped at the door. Drinks, on the other hand, were a different matter. Apparently he'd slept with one bartender and the other one had a crush on him.

Him: "He knows me, but he doesn't know you. So I'll introduce you, and then I'll get a drink. Then you go get a drink right after!"

That was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard, but I indulged him because he was cute. $11 later, I had a weak screwdriver that I really didn't need.

Bottomless Pitt wandered off about 30 seconds after we got in, and Protogé's friend had gone home. As we moved throughout the club, Protogé would hold my hand as he led. Eventually, he leaned in to make out and invited me back to his place.

Did I mention that I keep a change of clothes at the office (so that I don't have to wear the same bright pink cap-sleeve tshirt 3 days in a row)? Yeah.

Props to everyone who did the AIDS Walk yesterday. Click here to check out what I did last year.

Got a question for the author? Click here to ask anonymously.

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

Images borrowed from ptees.com, medicblog999.wordpress.com, youtube.com and jackiesplace-thebookroom.com

I stopped counting around 25 (TTT's birthday party)

The Thursday after Black Party weekend was TTT’s birthday, so the gang with to Gym Bar. I had texted Grrber to meet us there after he was done at the actual gym. I went downstairs to check my coat and noticed that it wasn’t nearly as crowded in The Locker Room as the main bar. As I was about to get to the bar to order my drink, I saw Duplex on the other side. Did I mention Duplex may or may not still be more attached than one might expect 3 years later… and less knowledgeable of my relationship status than he should be. When I went over to say hi, he told the bartender, who was his friend, to make me a drink “in a tall glass,” slapping a 10 on the bar.

Duplex: “Have you met [bartender]?"
Me: “Yeah, a couple of times. Both times, he barely glanced in my direction and went back to whatever he was doing.”

Duplex: “Oh… well he’s a really great guy.”

Me: “I’m sure.”

Duplex: “So what are you doing here?”

Me: “Oh, just here with some of The Crew. An Ivy made it to the Sweet 16 [NCAA Basketball Tournament], so they came to support.”

Duplex: “Well that’s mighty butch of y’all!”

Me: “I guess. They were like, ‘It’s amazing because Ivy League schools don’t give athletic scholarships.’ I said, ‘Yeah, just like Donald Trump pays his fair share of taxes!’ Anyway, I should get back up to them.”

Duplex: “So… you wanna come over later?”

Me: “I’m actually pretty tired. I’m not gonna stay very late.”

Duplex: “Well, come say bye before you leave.”

I went upstairs freaking out. Grrber was on his way in the next 10 minutes!

Grrber would be the type to laugh at the awkward situation. Duplex, on the other hand, would want to make it a big fight. And that’s how I found my solution. As soon as Grrber arrived, I told him the situation. He was willing to dip right then, but I figured that since his crowd was all downstairs, Duplex wouldn’t be venturing up for a while. A half hour later hen I went to retrieve my things from coat check, I gave him a smile and wave from across the room.

Crisis averted.

Friday was TTT’s big birthday celebration, for whieh she’d reserved the 3^rd floor of the Ritz. I wondered how she could have any desire to celebrate with more people than could fit into her large (for Hell’s Kitchen) apartment, but then I remembered all the hook ups she’d added on various social media. Whereas I avoid Facebook contact with guys I’m fucking (does it really need to get that personal), a Facebook add is part of TTT’s foreplay (I may or may not have seen her add a guy in a bar before). So I could see how she was more or less obligated to invite a whole slew of tricks friends people to whom she was connected.

On the train downtown (with my Gatorade bottle), my car was empty except for me and 4 homeless guys that weren't too smelly. When I got on the train in Washington Heights, one of them had a Nutcracker in his Tupperware container (that’s how they come). When we got to 59th St, the nutcracker had turned into apple juice. When he poured it out (on the platform!!! Not even in the crack), I had to change cars.

TTT had asked me to help out with the music. He sent me a list of 50 songs he wanted (which included "Out Tonight (Rent Remix)" and "I Just Can't Wait to Be King"). Needless to say, I had about 3 of the songs he’d requested. We decided that I'd give him some music, and he'd work it out. I ended up burning about 3-hours of carefully thought-out selections onto 5 CDs meant to be played in blocks for dancing, allowing for flexibility and blocks of his own songs. Needless to say that with TTT’s attention span and gays having unfettered access to his iphone (from which the music was coming), about 4 of the songs I’d burned for him actually played more than 5 seconds.

At one point, The Ivy League Crew et al premiered Lady Gaga’s “Telephone” and did a reprise of “Bad Romance”.

I eventually got tired of watching TTT make out with guys (I stopped counting around 25), so I went downstairs and ran into a guy from my gym, who bought me a drink. Then I started talking to a random who took my invisible-below-96^th-street thing way too seriously for 1am on a weekend night. I went downstairs to dance for a bit, but that party was starting to fizzle out (though the music was still good).

Did I mention that ugly lights are never a good way to end the night? Yeah.

Pieces has an underwear party this Friday. Click here to check out the first one.

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

Images borrowed from gymsportsbar.com and TTTs facebook page.

“Can I see the back of your harness?” (The Black Party '10... or not)

So, if you’ll remember the night before, I had crashed at a guy’s place after leaving my keys at my office. The guy had said something about waking up at 10, but I definitely didn’t leave his place until about 1. TTT texted me to see if I was at the Pier. I happened to be walking in front of his apartment building, so I called him. His voice told me he was a good hour from being ready to leave his apartment.

I filled him in on the story from the previous night.

TTT: “So are you on the way to the Pier?”

Me: “Hell no! You think I'm gonna wear the skinny jeans tucked into the cowboy boots I wore last night! I’m going home to change.”

TTT: “But by the time you get back downtown from your place, it’ll be tomorrow! Hello? Hello?...”

I got to the Pier a bit after 3, and of course every Mary, smooth and hairy, was out. It was just over 70 degrees, so it was warm in the sunlight between buildings. But on the water, the breeze was downright chilly.

TTT (looking at Urban Sprawl asleep facedown in his underwear): “I guess that’s what happens when you turn 30.”

Me: “Oh leave her alone. She just needed to rest her eyes.”

MicHELLe: “Oh my god! Why do old people always say that! Body parts don’t get individual rest! ‘Oh, my arm is resting!’ [flailing a lifeless right arm]”

Around 6, we were over it and went to Pieces for happy hour and Tue Thai for dinner. Most everyone dropped off except for MicHELLe, Bottomless Pitt and me. The three of us were all planning to go to The Black Party together. Keep in mind, I was still adjusting to Eastern Daylight Savings Time (which I didn't know happened til I was late for work on Wednesday). But I had mentally prepared for the wildness. And then in the middle of the week, I found out I was too old to get the discount (look down, The Saint at Large)! I certainly wasn't psyched enough to pay full price for a ticket, and when I dropped out, MicHELLe and Bottomless Pitt both lost interest. But that wasn’t going to stop us from going to ASFKAB and Bologna’s Black Party pre-game (after a stop at Gym Bar).

We picked up a bottle and made our way up to Hell’s Kitchen. When we got there, ASFKAB answered the door dressed more like a jock with 70s-porn facial hair than a leather pup. The party was packed, and quite a few of the attendants were dressed for the party.

I went up stairs, to Bologna’s room, and she was jumping on her bed in a jock strap and tube socks.

Bottomless Pitt (as Bologna bent down to her computer to change the song): “Oh my god! Bologna, you have a really hairy ass! …Not that that’s a bad thing: it’s just unexpected since you don’t really have hair anywhere else!”

One really hot guy in particular came up, and I noticed his harness looked a bit plain. In fact, it reminded me of TTT’s harness from the year before. No snaps to adjust, just a couple of bolts to hold the leather in place around the ring.

Me: “Can I see the back of your harness?”

Him: “Sure, yeah.”

Me: “It’s backwards. Hold on… Yup. Backward and inside out.”

Him: “Oh, god, are you serious? I borrowed this from a friend, so I wasn’t sure.”

Me: “Here, let me touch your hot, hairy torso as much as possible in the next 30 seconds help you with that.”

The party mostly cleared out in the by 12:30, and MicHELLe had been talking up a house party around the corner. I figured a gay boy hosting in Hell’s Kitchen that I didn’t really know: it should be a guaranteed good time, right?

Bottomless Pitt as we’re climbing the stairs (what’s up with HK and walk-up buildings!): “I hear a lot of girls here.”

I heard them, too. From two floors below.

. o O (I feel like this isn’t the first estrogen-heavy party she's led me to. Another MicHELLe MisTAKE.)

We actually ended up having a good time there. The girls and host were fun, and we ended up doing a few dances, including “Single Ladies” (I sat that one out) and “Bad Romance” (Bottomless Pitt did the floor part on the host’s futon). After about an hour there, I entertained Posh for a short period before heading home. Did I mention that I would have much rather have been crawling into bed and making Grrber stir? Yeah.

Click here to check out when I actually went to The Black Party last year.

Got a question for the author? Click here to ask me anonymously.

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

Image borrowed from Pubic Finance's facebook page.