Date #9: Scooter

People ask me if I make these blogs up. If they're all fiction.

From now on, I'll respond--

Read the entry about Scooter and let me know if you think anyone's that good a writer.

Usual story: Met a guy. He's cool. Cute? Well, to be honest--he's okay. Not really my type (I don't really go for blonde guys, nothing against them, but the Mediterranean look is more my style.) Anyway--

He was still very nice. So we got dinner at Paragon--oh how I love Paragon, olives olives everywhere--and then he asked if I wanted to go back to his house. It wasn't a pick-up line or anything, I think he just wanted to kind of sit and talk, so I said sure.

That was where I met Scooter.

Scooter is this really nice guy's ex-boyfriend.

What was he doing at the apartment you may ask? Oh, they live together.

This is a little phenomenon happening in Rhode Island right now. Let me see if I can accurately describe it.

Two gay men--the 12-year-old girl I-need-instant-gratification type of gay men--make the rash decision to move into an apartment together--a very big committment--after dating for--let's be generous and say--two weeks.

They of course break up.

And now they're stuck with a lease. So they just keep living together.

Awkward? You bet.

Especially when Kevin Broccoli shows up with your ex--looking cute I might add.

REALLY NICE GUY: Kevin, this is Scooter.

Scooter? Like the muppet Scooter? The orange one with the glasses who stage managed the muppet show? Okay...

Scooter is tall--about 6'0, dark brown hair, around 160lbs I'd venture to guess, pretty solid build. He looks like a frat boy actually. A gay frat boy. A big gay frat boy. He was holding a beer when I met him, that might be where I got the impression. He chugged the entire thing, crushed it in his bare hand, then said to me--

SCOOTER: You treating my boy right?

"You treating my boy right." That's a question a Southern Mama asks the girl dating her son as she walks past the run-down fence and the three-legged goat.

Brian and I--Really Nice Guy's name is Brian by the way--proceeded to sit down on the couch and watch television. I guess I was sitting too close to Brian because he got up and moved to the love seat.

BRIAN: Sorry. I don't like to be touchy feely with guys while Scooter is home. I think it's disrespectful.

I actually thought this was very nice of him--to be courteous--it's a dying trait. Then Scooter walked into the living room.

SCOOTER: I was just watching Don't Be a Menace.

Don't Be a Fucking Menace...Apparently Scooter is a former Black Panther (PS. I'm not a racist, I've dated black men and found them quite enjoyable.)

So I sat there, watching the classic cinema that is Don't Be a Menace to South Central--sitting next to Scooter while Really Nice Guy was on the love seat not saying anything.

SCOOTER: So where do you go to school?
ME: I just graduated from RIC?
SCOOTER: Couldn't get into a good school, huh?

He laughed.

ME: No, but I'm getting into your ex-boyfriend's pants later tonight.
(I didn't say that, but I should have--I took the high road.)
ME: I actually had a really good time there. Met great people--
SCOOTER: I went to Columbia. It was amazing.
BRIAN: That's where we met.
SCOOTER: Yeah, he wanted me so bad. Remember that Richie?

I'm sure he'd pay good money to forget, Scootie.

It was at this point that Scooter received company. Now, I took this to be a sign from God that he still has some affection for me despite the gay thing.

But no, I was wrong.

Two guys showed up--both of them...what's the word...twinks. But not just any twinks, oh no...Druggie Twinks. That's right--Drinks.

They were giggling hysterically. I think they introduced themselves but I couldn't see them through the cloud of pot smoke that was surrounding them. It was like Pig Pen from Charlie Brown walked into the room. Scooter grabbed a bag of Fritos from the kitchen and the three of them went into Scooter's room.

Great, I thought, they'll just get high and me and Brian can cuddle.

Yeah right.

The noises started right after Rich popped out the DVD and came over to talk to me on the couch. How do I describe these noises? Imagine a quiet hyena mating with a shitsu. That's what it sounded like. I'm guessing Scooter, Drink 1 and Drink 2 were simultaneously getting high and playing Naked Twister.

Brian and I have one thing in common at least. In uncomfortable situations we pretty much ignore the fact that anything is wrong. Why didn't we just get up and go out somewhere else you might ask? Because it was late, nothing would be open, and I think both of us were kind of mystified by what we were hearing. At one point I was pretty sure puppies were being born.

Then Scooter walks out--in nothing but boxer shorts with a giant arrow on them--pointing where? take a guess--and says:

SCOOTER: You guys have any condoms?

Call this one. Time of Death? 11:22pm.

BRIAN: Don't you have any?
SCOOTER: We used them all up.

Used them all up--okay, a little intrigued, not going to lie.

ME: What the hell are you doing in there?
SCOOTER: Living baby, living.

What is he Jack Nicholson in Easy Rider?

BRIAN: Well, I--
SCOOTER: Never mind. I think I have some under my bed.

With that, he went back into his room. A few minutes later--enough buffer time--I said I needed to take off as well. Brian seemed pretty sorry about what happened, but not altogether suprised. I asked him why he doesn't even sit next to guys when Scooter's around but Scooter can do the Portuguese Tango with whomever he wants while Rich is home.

BRIAN: I don't know. It's just...It's always been like this.

Oh Christ, he's still in love with him. I gave him a hug--cause I mean, c'mon, the poor guy--and I left.

ME: Have you ever lived with a guy after you'd stopped dating him?
FRIEND: Oh yeah, for like two months.
ME: Wasn't it awkward?
FRIEND: Only when we'd accidentally sleep together again.
ME: Well, of course.
FRIEND: Was Scooter cute?
ME: If you think Jim Belushi is cute.
FRIEND: Please, who doesn't?
ME: Why would a nice guy like him ever date an asshole like that?
FRIEND: It's the Asshole Principle. Nice guys always date assholes. It's a compliment thing, like Ying and Yang.
ME: No, I'm pretty sure Ying and Yang were the two gay boys Scooter had over.

The happy ending? Scooter myspaced me and then messaged me to ask me out on a date. At first I thought, oh my God, imagine how awesome that blog would be--see what this thing is doing to me? Anyway, the next stray shitsu I take in is totally being named Scooter.